London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Oh my,” Helen gasps, engrossed in the story.

  “I know. It was horrible. Olivia has kind of been terrible to me.”

  “Her mother’s the same,” Helen confirms, nodding. “Wretched woman.” She looks at me, her face softening. “I guess I hadn’t realized you and Harry were … dating.”

  “I’m not even sure if we are. That hasn’t really been talked about,” I admit.

  “Well, has he taken you on a proper date?” she asks, tilting her head at me.

  “I mean, we went sightseeing on Monday night. Does that count?”

  She shakes her head at me, and I have my answer.

  “No, of course that doesn’t. He needs to come to your door and take you out to dinner, dancing.” She smiles. “I remember I turned Gene down at least four times until he could come up with a better date idea.”

  “Really?” I laugh, wrinkling my nose at her, already feeling better.

  She nods. “I really liked him, but I didn’t want to make it too easy. I needed to show him that I was demanding but worth it.”

  “That’s smart. Boys can be very confusing,” I admit, needing to talk to someone. “I don’t really have any girlfriends at school yet. Naomi seems to like me, but she’s so close to Olivia that I’m not sure we could ever be actual friends. Mohammad is nice to talk to, but he just doesn’t get it all the time. Harry is sweet and charming. I know he likes me, but sometimes, I feel like he sees me as a friend. And I obviously can’t talk to him about him. And Noah,” I huff. “He can be so hot and cold. He’s like the most amazing boy half the time, and the other half of the time, I genuinely wonder if he thinks I’m a lunatic or something.”

  Helen lets out a laugh. “That’s Noah, sweetie. Don’t take it personally. He’s always been intense.”

  “I can see that. But I feel like we’re in a good place now.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t easy, not having girlfriends here,” Helen says, going back to one of my points.

  “But it’s all my own doing,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Mallory,” Helen says, eyeing me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Not every girl in your year is under Olivia’s spell.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” she confirms. “Make an effort. Your friendships with the boys, despite the drama, came naturally. Easy. Sometimes though, you have to do the work. Make an effort.”

  “It would be nice to have at least one girlfriend here,” I reply, thinking about talking to someone who actually understands what a jersey dress is or who can help me endlessly analyze a boy situation without getting bored.

  “Have you met Sophia yet? She’s in your year. She could probably use a friend right now. She and Mia have always been close, and since Mia is gone …”

  “Maybe,” I reply, thinking back to Sophia and Noah last night. The way that they smiled and laughed together.

  The memory makes me uncomfortable, and I wonder if Noah likes her. Maybe they just have a past and were catching up. I don’t even know her, and the thought of being her friend already bothers me.

  “Look, these things take time. Put in some work with the girls at school and make Harry take you on a proper date. He’s a charmer and a good boy at heart. But you deserve to be treated right. No funny business.”

  I nod at her in agreement.

  “No more kissing or getting into fights at school. Stay out of trouble.”

  “I will. I promise,” I reply, realizing I just need to think about it like Helen thinks about it.

  No more kissing and no more fighting.

  Get my schoolwork done and have fun.

  That’s what I need to focus on.

  “Also, I got your laundry done today.” Helen smiles. “I went through and made sure to separate your laundered items, and they will be back from the cleaners tomorrow. If you don’t mind, you can take your uniforms up to your room and hang them out to dry. I wanted to make sure you had what you’d need for tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her, getting up off the couch. “I appreciate the advice. I needed the talk.”

  “I know, sweetie,” she says.

  I get up to my room with my laundry, struggling to carry up some contraption that will allow me to hang my clothes out to dry. I pull at the different levels of the wire rack, begging for it to work with me and stay open. But for some reason, it’s decided my day hasn’t been bad enough, and it doesn’t want to cooperate.

  “Grr,” I growl, hoping that I can scare it into submission.

  “Are you growling?” Noah asks, pushing open my door.

  “Yes,” I confirm, narrowing in my eyes at the contraption.

  “At the drying rack?” he says. And I can tell by his voice that he thinks this is funny.

  “Obviously,” I say, letting one of the pieces drop down in defeat.

  Noah moves into the room, steps over the laundry basket filled with my damp uniforms, and sits down on the bed next to me.

  “Do you need any cream for that?” he asks, studying the little cuts on my arm.

  “I think I’m all right.”

  Noah nods at me, a smile pulling at his lip. “Do you need help putting up the rack?”

  He looks at me with a straight face, but I know he’s taking pleasure in the fact that he knows how to do it while I can’t seem to figure out something so simple.

  I roll my eyes at him, not wanting to admit I do. “Yes,” I finally get out.

  Noah gets up off the bed, but I quickly join him.

  “No, show me how,” I say, interrupting him from setting it up himself.

  “Really?” he asks, giving me a sideways glance.

  “Well, I’m going to have to do this more than once, aren’t I? I’d rather learn now and be able to do it for myself than to have to beg you for help every time your mom does the laundry.”

  “Do you call what you just did there begging?” Noah smirks.

  “Stop,” I say, shoving him a little. “Just show me how to put this thing up.”

  “So, laundry is kind of a confusing system in this house. Normally, your uniform will get laundered, but I guess she wanted it for you for tomorrow, so that’s why she washed it.”

  “Why don’t you have a dryer?” I ask, confused, looking over at my damp clothes.

  “We do, but Mum hates drying important or nice things in case they shrink. Stuff like sweats and T-shirts, she does dry.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “All right, so you open it like this.” He moves alongside me, popping the contraption open so that it’s now standing all on its own. “You just place your clothes between the wires and let them hang.”

  His hand slides across the rail, touching mine. With his body this close to me, I feel like I can’t breathe.

  I instantly jump back.

  “I … I’m going to shower,” I state, practically falling over my laundry basket as I leave and slamming the bathroom door shut with a little too much force.

  I turn on the water, letting it run for a few minutes. I don’t even need to shower. I just needed to get away. I decide since I’m in here, I might as well rinse off, so I throw my hair into a ponytail and give myself a good scrub.

  I get out and pull on a robe that was hanging on the back of the door. I make my way back into my room, feeling refreshed.

  But then I see Noah.

  Why is he still in my room?

  I watch as he rummages through one of my open suitcases.

  “Are you snooping?” I ask, shocked, noticing a pair of my underwear under his hand.

  “You’re absolutely mad,” he says, standing up. “You borrowed my shirt and then put it back into your suitcase. I’m just looking for what is rightfully mine.”

  “Oh, really?” I say, not believing him. But then I notice he’s holding his shirt.

  “Really,” he smarts, a sparkle coming into his eyes. “But, hey,” he says, reaching down into my bag, “these were a nice surpr
ise.” He grins, holding up one of my thongs. “I’m actually amazed you can call these knickers.”

  I instantly blush. “You’re infuriating.” I grab the pair of underwear from him. “You can’t just go through my stuff. And I didn’t keep your shirt. Your mom must have done my laundry and put it back in there.”

  “I found my tracksuit bottoms in there, too, but you can keep those.” He smiles smugly, raising his eyebrows at me before going out the door.

  I move toward my suitcase, shuffling through the stack of clean clothes until I get my hands on his sweatpants. I throw them on my bed. I want to kick them about, hoping Noah might feel it, but I don’t. I grab my backpack, pulling out my dress from the night before along with Harry’s T-shirt.

  I hold the shirt up to my nose, taking in his scent. It reminds me of this morning and being in his bed.

  I look at Noah’s sweatpants, resting on my bed, taunting me. I pull them to my nose. They smell clean and fresh, just like Noah.

  I throw both the shirt and the pants off my bed, bury my head into the pillows, and let out a silent scream.

  Friday, September 27th

  Your body gives you away.

  6:25am

  “Noah! Hurry up already,” I say, banging my fist on the bathroom door.

  Of all the things I will never understand is a house with only one bathroom for the children to share. I mean, it’s ridiculous. How can one person alone be expected to get ready in the broom closet that they call a loo, let alone share it with someone else? And the thing is, it wouldn’t bother me if I had access to it at any time.

  But surprisingly, Noah is a prima donna. Right? Who would have thought? Not me—that’s for sure. But he can spend what feels like hours in there, and with my singular flaw of being a not-so-good morning person, he always seems to end up in the bathroom before me.

  The sound of the shower comes through the door and I can hear him humming like he has all the time in the world.

  “Noah, come on …” I whine. “I need to shower, or I’ll never be ready for school on time.”

  I stand there for a minute, waiting, but there’s no answer. I decide to add in a light but persistent knock, knowing that he will eventually have to crack. He can’t ignore me forever.

  “Noah, Noah, Noah!”

  The humming stops, but the water is still running, so I keep knocking.

  All of a sudden, the door flies open, and my hand is left in a fist, hanging midair. In front of me is a dripping wet Noah.

  “For fuck’s sake, what?” he huffs.

  He throws one hand up in the air, and I look for the other, finding it at his side, holding on to a small towel barely wrapped around his waist.

  I stand frozen in a knocking pose, probably looking like an idiot, but the only part of me that seems to be able to move is my eyes which are taking in Noah’s nearly naked body.

  Noah is hot.

  Really freaking hot.

  Like chiseled, Roman statue hot. This boy’s body is drool-worthy. His stomach is lean, his skin pulling tightly across defined muscles. My eyes roll over each one of his abs, and I mentally count the six-pack that makes my mouth fall open in shock.

  When my eyes work their way back up to his face, I find him wearing a pleased grin.

  “Uh, I …” I say, trying to clear my head. “What the heck?” It’s not the most brilliant thing I’ve ever said, but it’s the only thing I could think of.

  Because, come on, naked boy!

  “Sorry?” he asks, tilting his head.

  I watch a bead of water roll down Noah’s face, running from his darkened hair all the way down to his jaw. I look over his body again and have to take a gulp of air to keep from passing out.

  “Mallory?”

  “Yeah?” I regain my senses and make an effort to stare directly at his eyes, keeping my chin held up.

  “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “I want to shower,” I say, shaking my head, my thoughts finally organizing themselves.

  Noah looks into my still-somewhat-starry eyes, his cheeks tinting themselves pink. “Are you checking me out?”

  His question mortifies me, and he’s smirking at me, waiting for a response. I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my fingers against my temple.

  “Oh, please, get over yourself.”

  But when I reopen my eyes, I wish I hadn’t because I find him staring back at me with sparkling eyes and a full-blown grin.

  “Yeah, you are,” he breathes out, a laugh escaping his lips.

  “Noah,” I reply flatly, trying to calm my insides.

  He rotates, extending his arm into the shower to turn off the running water. I watch a droplet trail down his side, my eyes gliding up to the muscles on his arm. His shoulder curves out and then cuts back into a bulging bicep.

  I swallow hard. What can I say? I know my muscles. I paid attention in Anatomy.

  But when he turns back to me, I make it a point to cross my arms in front of me and look at him blankly.

  He pushes past me, moving from the bathroom into his room.

  “Do you know how annoying you are? That knock,” he says, mimicking my knock on his dresser. “I thought I was going to rip my hair out.”

  “Well, good! That’s exactly what I wanted. You’re a shower hog, and it’s rude! After all, I am your guest. And I need to get ready too. Honestly, Noah, what can you possibly be doing in there for half an hour every morning?!”

  A grin starts to form on Noah’s lips, and he takes a step closer to me, raising his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Uh,” I say, stepping back and pointing my finger at him. “First off, ewww. Don’t be disgusting. I have no want or desire to know where your hands have been or what they have been doing in that shower.”

  Noah laughs, taking a step closer so I’m practically pinned between him and the wall. My chest is pounding, and I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t looked in the mirror yet. I haven’t brushed my teeth or combed my hair.

  “You might tell yourself that,” he says, towering over me, “but the truth is, your body gives you away.” His face is just a few inches from mine, and his dark lashes distract me.

  But then his words register, and I push at his wet, naked chest, making him give me some space.

  “Please”—I almost snort—“you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? But you have absolutely no effect on me,” I state my words with force, glaring at him in challenge.

  “No?” he says. His whole face is practically glowing now, and I can already see it in his eyes. They’re sparkling like he’s won whatever game it is that he thinks he’s playing.

  “Nope,” I confirm.

  “Well, that’s great news,” he says, pulling a pair of boxers out of his drawer.

  I take in his bare back, looking over his heavy shoulders and tapered waist. But I rip my eyes away from his creamy skin, putting my hand on my hip.

  “What are you getting at?” I ask.

  “Well, it’s good news that you don’t, because Mum forgot to do a load of towels yesterday. So, mine will have to do,” he says, unwrapping the towel from around his waist and then throwing it at me.

  All I see is Noah’s naked butt before the towel hits me in the face.

  “Noah!” I try to scream, but it comes out muffled from the towel. I rip the towel away from my face, covering my eyes with my hand.

  He laughs, causing me to peek between my fingers to see that he already has his boxers on and is pulling up his pants.

  I can’t believe he just did that! It’s like he knew exactly what would distract me. He knew that I would be so shocked that I would just stand here, staring at him. And it’s probably exactly what he wanted.

  I pull my hand away from my eyes. I have to go get ready for school. And I most definitely am not going to let him know that he’s distracted me.

  I turn around and run straight into the doorframe.

  “Shit,” I say, my hand coming up to my forehead, pain pu
lsing under my skin.

  Okay, maybe I was a teeny bit distracted. Because, hello, naked butt!

  “Are you all right?” Noah is at my side, steadying me.

  “Fine,” I say through clenched teeth, shrugging him off. “I need to shower. If you will excuse me.”

  I rush through my shower and have to blow-dry my hair like a madwoman. I run down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Gene is sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand. “Morning, Mallory,” he says over his newspaper.

  “Morning,” I say back, rushing around the kitchen. Where in the hell is the bread? I need to make my sandwich, and I can’t find it anywhere.

  “I packed our lunches,” Noah says, walking into the kitchen with his backpack and two brown bags in hand.

  “Well, that was nice of you, Noah,” Gene comments, never looking up from his paper.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Noah flashes me a grin.

  I roll my eyes at him even though I’m feeling relieved.

  “An absolute angel,” I mock, my eyes narrowing in on Noah. I snatch the bag out of his hands, making my way to the front door. “Bye, Gene!”

  “Bye, guys,” he says as I push through the front door.

  I walk at an extra-quick pace, not bothering to wait for Noah. I don’t want him to think I am affected by him, his conversations, or his muscles.

  I am on a mission. I need coffee before Statistics, and I’m not going to be late because of it. I’m in enough trouble as it is already, and I don’t need a tardy slip to add to my mess.

  “It’s pretty fun, seeing you get so worked up.” Noah grins, catching up to me.

  “I’m glad you find it so charming. Most people would say I’m a nightmare when I’m pushed.”

  “See, I disagree,” he continues, keeping up with my pace. “Normally, in the morning, you’re slow and grumpy. But this morning, you were so worked up that you were quicker than usual. That means we’ll have plenty of time to stop for coffee.”