London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  I push my shoulders back, knowing that I’ve decided.

  I need to make it clear to Noah that I’m with Harry. And that, despite wanting to be his friend, I have to set some boundaries with him.

  I make my way to the tube station, only having to go two stops before I get off. When I emerge from the hidden tunnels below the city, I take in the beautiful and uniform brick buildings. There are a lot of people out, cars rushing down the street. The noise somehow calms me, and I weave through the crowds until I get a few streets off the main road, easily finding Avon Nails.

  I let out a heavy breath and then pull open the door. Everything in the salon is white, and there are flowers on every workstation.

  Rows of colorful nail polishes line one wall.

  I notice Naomi immediately. She’s seated in one of the waiting chairs, her eyes glued to her phone. She throws her phone into her purse, getting up when she sees me.

  “Hey.” She smiles, moving her face toward mine. I almost pull away but then realize she’s just trying to kiss my cheeks to say hello. She puts her cheek up to mine on each side, her hand on my shoulder. “Find it all right?” she asks, her eyes coming up to meet mine.

  “Yeah.” I nod at her.

  “Ladies, follow me,” the woman at the reception desk says to us, “I’ll show you to your chairs.”

  I let Naomi go first, following behind her.

  “Can I offer you tea or water?” the woman asks.

  “Yes, please,” Naomi says. “Tea for me.”

  She glances over at me, and I decide, What the heck?

  “Tea would be great. Thanks.”

  She takes us to two desks in the back, so we can sit next to one another.

  “Here are the colors,” the woman says, placing the ring with nail-color swatches onto my table. “I’ll be back shortly with the teas.”

  I nod at her and then look over to Naomi. “What color are you going to get?” I ask, handing her the ring of polish options.

  She holds up her hand, examining it. Her nails are long and rounded, painted gold and pink. She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes in on the colors.

  “I was thinking a pink,” she says, turning to look at me.

  I take in her cream-colored sweater and distressed high-rise jeans. Her blonde hair is curled, falling softly over her shoulders, and a light-pink gloss highlights her lips.

  I smile at her. “I think pink suits you,” I say, agreeing.

  She laughs, nodding her head. “I think it does too.”

  Her gaze comes up to mine, and she holds my eyes for a minute.

  “Let me see your fingers,” she says, grabbing on to my hand. She examines my short and clean nail beds, pursing her lips. “Nikki is going to have her work cut out for her.” She laughs, flicking her gaze back up to mine.

  “I’ve never been good about getting my nails done,” I say, withdrawing my hand from hers.

  “I think you should get extensions. Nothing too long but just enough, so they look feminine,” she states, looking again at the color swatches.

  “You think?” I ask, not really sure.

  “Of course. You can still get a darker color,” she confides. “I’m guessing you’re more of a gray or blue person.”

  “You guessed right,” I admit, letting out an easy laugh.

  “It’s funny, the colors we’re drawn to. See, I always go for golds and pinks because of my complexion,” she starts. “But with your hair and grayish eyes, I can see why you would choose something darker.”

  I smile at her as two nail technicians sit down opposite us.

  “I’ll do this one,” Naomi says, pointing out the pink she wants. “And my friend Mallory wants this one,” she says, pointing to an almost stormy blue.

  Her eyes flash up to me, checking, and I nod my head in agreement.

  “I am also thinking about extensions,” I add, furrowing my brow, unsure of what I’m getting myself into.

  Naomi’s eyes brighten, and she nods, obviously excited for me.

  The technicians get to work, soaking our fingers and buffing out our nails.

  “I appreciate you taking pity on me today,” I say, looking over at Naomi. “I really needed to get out of the house.”

  “How is it going? I’m sure it must be … different, living with a host family,” she says.

  “You know, I’ve actually gotten used to it. The Williams are great, and their house is warm and welcoming. I literally have nothing to complain about. But sometimes, with it just being Noah there and how I’m always hanging out with the guys at school, I miss girl time.”

  Naomi laughs, her eyes softening. “I can imagine. I have two younger brothers, and sometimes, I can’t handle it.”

  “Aww,” I coo. “I’m an only child, and I’m usually home alone. It’s been kind of strange, constantly having people around.”

  “But you like it more than you thought, don’t you?” she asks, studying me.

  “Yeah. It’s nice. I thought I might feel suffocated, but I don’t.”

  “I’ve heard Noah’s family is like that. Olivia,” she says, glancing over at me, “used to tell me about how Harry was always over there. She made it sound like Harry was really close with them.”

  “He is,” I confirm. Naomi doesn’t add anything, so after a minute, I ask, “Are you close with your family?”

  “Yeah. My parents are usually busy, and my brothers take a lot of time and attention, but they always put in effort to spend time with me. I think I’m pretty lucky to have a good relationship with them.”

  I nod at her, thinking that maybe we have even more in common than I thought. I glance down at my nails, seeing one full hand with extensions, the other ready for its makeover.

  The things we do for friends.

  “What do you think about Noah?” she says, grabbing my attention.

  I glance over at her, but her eyes are on her nails.

  “What do you think about him?” I ask, smiling at her. “You’ve known him a lot longer than I have.”

  “Noah’s a dish.”

  My mouth practically falls open at her statement.

  “What?” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “He is. And I won’t believe you for one second if you try to tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  She’s smirking at me now, and I want to roll my eyes at her, but she has a point.

  “He’s not the worst thing to look at,” I agree, letting go of a breath. “But he’s infuriating. We argue all the time, and he’s so up and down. He has more mood swings than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Naomi smiles, her nose scrunching up. “He’s always been one of the smartest in our class. For a long time, Olivia wanted me to date him, so that way, we could double date together. But I don’t know. We used to hang out, but we’ve never really hit it off. It sounds like you two are close though.”

  “Are you dating anyone now?” I ask, curious.

  She shakes her head. “I’ve been talking to this guy, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere. He was at my party last week. I’m not sure if you remember him. He has short, dark hair and beautiful brown eyes.”

  Her eyes practically glaze over, and I can tell she’s got it bad.

  “Well, where do you want it to go?” I ask. “Do you want a boyfriend? Or are you just looking for some fun?”

  “I guess a boyfriend. I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking, but we met at a party, and he’s a bit of a dish. He’s shown interest, but we always end up only seeing each other with other people around.”

  “Do you get nervous?” I grin at her, watching her blush.

  “Yeah. It’s hard because we text, but he hasn’t initiated, like, a date. He’ll just ask if I’ll be places and say that he’s excited to see me. I don’t know …”

  “All right,” I say, turning toward her, “if he’s texting you, he’s obviously interested, especially if he isn’t just texting you for … well, you know. He’s asking if he’ll see you, stuff like that. S
o, the next time you talk, invite him over. Something that’s just chill and casual. Let him know what you’re doing and that you want to see him. If he comes just because you asked, you’ll have your answer.”

  Naomi’s eyes go wide. “That’s brilliant. Then, I’ll know if he actually likes me or is just talking to me as a friend.”

  “Yep.” I smile at her.

  “I would have never thought of that. You’re really good with this stuff.”

  Her eyes are still wide, and it makes me wonder if I really did blow her mind with my advice.

  “I’m just direct. I don’t mind flirting and playing around if you know that’s what it is. But there’s nothing worse than feeling almost in limbo.”

  I look down at my nails, seeing that the extensions are now on all of my fingers. The technician has cut them down and is adding the color to them.

  “It’s funny. Olivia is direct too. She’s always giving me advice that I’ll never take. She wants me to text him and just ask him out or show up at a party I know he’ll be at and walk up and kiss him.”

  “Well, her advice isn’t so bad if that’s what you want.” I laugh, easily seeing those statements coming from Olivia.

  “It isn’t if you’re fearless,” she says with a laugh. “But unfortunately, that’s not me.”

  “Have you and Olivia been friends for a long time?”

  “Forever really. We went to primary school together. Our families have always run in the same circles. Olivia is emotional and bold. She says what she thinks and is impulsive. But I love that about her.”

  “You two probably balance one another.”

  Because everything about Naomi is soft and sweet. She’s easy to talk to, and she seems like she has a kind heart. I can see why Olivia is friends with her.

  “We definitely do.” Naomi laughs.

  “I’m sorry again about your birthday. I’m not sure Olivia and I could ever be friends, but I don’t hate her. I don’t want there to be drama with us.”

  Naomi nods, glancing at me. “Unless Olivia is back with Harry or moves on, she will probably never be friends with you,” she says. “But I think it’s a shame. You’re really nice, and if anything, she should be mad at Harry, not you.”

  I smile, feeling relieved that Naomi is still willing to be friends with me anyway.

  “It’s just an awkward situation. Because I am with Harry.”

  Her eyes flash at me. “Like, you two are together, together?”

  “We’re definitely dating.” I can tell she’s shocked.

  “That’s weird. Olivia thought that she might get back together with—” She stops talking, quickly closing her mouth. “Regardless, maybe we all can get together. Me, you, and Olivia. I think if she could get past this whole hating you thing, I could see you two as friends.”

  And this time, I’m the one who must look shocked.

  “We’ll work on it,” I say graciously, not wanting to shut her idea down. But I know there’s no way that’s going to happen.

  Naomi smiles, nodding her head at me. She really does look optimistic.

  “If you want, you’re always welcome over too. If you ever need a break from the little brothers.” I laugh. “Most of the time, I’m just hanging around with Noah or studying.”

  Naomi’s eyes brighten, and I can tell she loves the idea. “Oh, that would be so fun. We could have a proper girls’ night in. Have a sleepover, put on face masks, and watch trashy TV.”

  “Think we could get Noah to put on a face mask?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her in question.

  “Definitely.” She grins, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe even matching pajamas as well.”

  When I leave the nail salon, I’m feeling good about our friendship.

  Or at least, the prospect of having one with Naomi.

  It’s weird because she reminds me so much of Anna. They’re both girlie and sweet with bubbly personalities. It makes me feel a little homesick, thinking about it, but also grateful.

  I look down at my nails, taking in the new color and length. I’m not sure I’ll ever get them again, but it was fun to do something different.

  To get to hang out with Naomi.

  To get out of the house.

  And to actually hear something from a girl’s perspective.

  It’s good to have balance, and I can definitely use some of Naomi’s advice.

  I think, to her, the world is simple. Boys are a little complicated, but friends can overcome anything, and smiles should be freely given. And anything pink is always a bonus. That’s Naomi to me, and I really like that. Because my life has seemed way too complicated lately.

  And I need simple.

  When I get back to the house, I catch Helen in the kitchen, deciding to ask her about a sleepover now.

  “How did the outing go?” she asks, peering up at me with hope.

  “It went great actually,” I gush. “Naomi wants to have a sleepover this week. I wanted to check with you first.”

  “Of course.” She grins at me proudly. “You just can’t stay up too late. And no excuses about classes the next day,” Helen says the words sternly, but her cheeks are rosy, and I can tell she’s excited for me.

  “Thanks.” I grin at her, feeling lighter and relieved. “I’ll let her know.”

  “I’m glad it went well. You girls will have a ball,” Helen replies.

  “Trust me, Naomi already has it all planned out. We’re doing face masks and pizza. The works.” I laugh.

  “It sounds like she does,” she says, agreeing.

  “I’m going to go up and get started on Statistics,” I tell her, glancing over at the clock.

  “I’m making you, Gene, and Noah stew for dinner. I’m going to let it sit in the slow cooker, so you three can eat it whenever, but I’ll be heading over to Harry’s sometime tonight.”

  “Okay,” I say, my stomach instantly tightening.

  Because I’m worried for Harry, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with his mom today.

  And I really wish I could be there to support him.

  I head up to my room and sit down at my desk.

  I need a distraction, and I’m hoping that if I focus, maybe I’ll be able to finish this statistics project. I get out my notebook, flipping through the notes I took in class, and open my textbook to the right chapter.

  I write out the problem, starting from the beginning alongside what I already had from earlier in the week. I fix a mistake that I made, getting further than I have all week.

  Yes. I grin to myself, feeling like I can actually do this.

  But after another twenty minutes of trying to work through the next step, I can’t.

  I slam my book shut.

  Why? Why does Statistics have to be so hard?

  I get up and pace in front of my desk. I think through the problem again, but I know I’m not going to figure it out.

  Shit.

  The only thing I can do now is ask Noah for help, and I’m going to have to. I go into the hallway and press my ear up to his door, wondering what he’s doing. I listen but don’t hear anything.

  Maybe he’s doing homework, like me.

  Or playing his video games silently, though that seems a little far-fetched.

  I knock but don’t get an answer. I push into his room, wondering where he is, but my eyes land on Noah, sprawled out across his bed. He has earbuds in, pieces of cut-up magazines surrounding him.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask, taking in the mess around him. It brings a grin to my face, and I jump onto his bed, sending a few magazine clippings flying into the air.

  “Shit,” Noah says, looking up at me, startled. He pulls his collage against his chest, his eyes wide.

  “Everything all right?” I ask, tilting my head at him. I raise my chin, trying to sneak a look at what he’s hiding.

  “Fine,” he says, nodding vigorously.

  He brushes a few clippings off of his bed and onto the floor. Which is surprising to me.


  “You going to show me what you’re working on?”

  “It’s not finished yet,” he says, collecting himself. Then, he just shrugs. “Maybe after it’s done, I’ll have something to show you.”

  “All right …” I narrow my eyes in on him, wondering why he’s being so weird. But I refocus, my mind moving back to Statistics. “So, since you’re apparently a math genius, I was wondering if you could pretty please help me with this problem. Because, I swear, if this school messes up my GPA, among other things, I’m going to lose my shit.”

  Noah laughs as I continue, “I’m going to need therapy regardless from this traumatizing exchange experience, and I have to admit, the fact that I’m going to cost my dad a small fortune in therapy bills almost makes it worth it.” I grin at him, teasing.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re dramatic?” Noah shakes his head at me, his eyes bright.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re observant?” I fire back, feeling smug.

  “Touché.”

  “But really,” I ask, pressing my palms together in front of my chest, “help me?”

  Noah nods.

  “Thank you,” I practically sing out, already in a better mood. Because now that I know Noah will help me, I can finally be done with this assignment. “I’ll go grab my book,” I say, getting up off his bed.

  “No. I, uh … I’ll come to your room,” he says, his voice almost catching.

  I look at him, wondering what has him so freaked, but I just nod. “Okay.”

  Noah follows me out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. When we get into my room, he plops down onto the bed, outstretching his legs in front of him. I hand him my paper along with the textbook and a pencil. He scans over the problem, his eyes moving quickly down the page.

  And I have to give it to him; he must be really good at math.

  Because I can barely make out one line of it, let alone just scanning along like that. I pace across the room, waiting for him to come up with a solution.

  “Where are your notes from Friday?” he asks, looking up at me.

  “I … didn’t take any,” I say, giving Noah my best I’m innocent smile. Because I know he’s about to scold me. I scrunch my head down, trying to hide from his gaze.