London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you don’t need these long nails. Your fingers were cute before,” he says, his eyes flicking up to mine.

  “Cute?” I ask, wondering what exactly that means to him.

  “Yeah,” he says, dropping my hand. “You said that your nails or whatever weren’t very feminine, right?”

  “Well, that’s what Naomi said,” I correct.

  “I guess I disagree. I thought your fingers were nice before. But they’re nice now too.”

  I sit here, wondering if Noah just gave me a compliment.

  I grab a glue stick, ready to start putting my sunrise together. “Ask me something,” I say to him, trying to change the subject.

  “You always smell like caramel.”

  “What?”

  “Is it your perfume? You said that was vanilla, right?” he asks. “Or are caramel and vanilla the same smell?”

  I wrinkle my nose at him, finding his question funny.

  “This has been bothering you, hasn’t it?” I ask, searching his face.

  “You’re not going to tell me?” he asks, looking taken aback, almost pouting.

  “There are only so many ways I can annoy you.” I grin, realizing he really does want an answer. “And I take great pleasure in watching you get frustrated that you can’t place the scent of my perfume.”

  “Mal,” Noah says, leaning toward me.

  “I already told you,” I say, finally giving in, “it’s vanilla.”

  “But it’s not just vanilla,” he says with tension in his voice. “It’s got something sweeter in it too. I can always figure things out. This, I can’t.”

  “I know,” I say, agreeing.

  Because most of the time, he can. It’s like how he can bring together math and art. Or how he can go from being all uptight one second to being super relaxed the next.

  “I can always figure things out,” he repeats, looking at his blank sheet. “But you’re a different story.”

  “Me?”

  Noah pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and nods at me.

  And he actually does seem frustrated by this. I’m not sure why placing the scent of my perfume has gotten to him so much, but apparently, it has.

  “It drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” I laugh.

  “A lot of things drive me crazy,” he replies, looking at me seriously.

  “Like what?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think change drives you crazy. Um, my slow morning habits,” I add, thinking. “You hate messes and hate feeling like your relationships aren’t grounded.”

  “You’re missing so many things,” Noah replies with a chuckle, shaking his head at me.

  “What did I miss then?” I ask, feeling a little annoyed.

  Because he’s the one who asked me to list off everything he hates. Well, not everything he hates.

  But things that drive him crazy. And if it drives you crazy, it’s not good.

  Right?

  “Your unfeminine nails digging into my shoulders yesterday,” he whispers, “for instance.” Noah doesn’t look at me when he says this, which is a good thing because my face instantly flushes.

  I stare straight down at my collage, not believing those words just came out of his mouth.

  I drive him crazy?

  “Noah—” I start to say, but the bell goes off, interrupting us.

  He holds my gaze for a long moment, and then he’s gone. Out of his seat, leaving me sitting alone in the classroom.

  I’m stunned, frozen in my spot.

  But then I start to notice students coming in, and I look up to the front of the room. Mrs. Jones is staring at me.

  I get up and give her a freaked-out smile.

  Maybe I’m just selfish.

  Geography

  I move to my next class in a daze.

  I’m about to walk into Geography when someone grabs on to my elbow.

  “Olivia?” I ask, turning to see her hand wrapped around my arm.

  She pulls me back out into the hall.

  “What the fuck?” she says.

  “What?” I ask, peeling her fingers off me.

  “Seriously?” She seethes. “You know what this is about. First, it’s Harry. And now, Naomi?”

  “Stop,” I say firmly, not wanting to go through this with her again. “Look, I’m not going through this week, hating one another. I’m just not doing it.”

  “Harry called me yesterday. He told me that he was sorry if he gave me the wrong impression Saturday but that he’s definitely with you.” She crosses her arms in front of her, her delicate face looking like it might crack.

  “Well, it’s true,” I say, narrowing my eyes in at her. “Isn’t it a good thing that he called you? Told you? I thought that was respectful.”

  “Who cares about respect?” she says, the words rolling out of her mouth. “I don’t want his respect. I want him.”

  “I know,” I state.

  Olivia glances at me.

  “And I can’t imagine how you felt Friday night and then Saturday and again Sunday. He’s been all over the place with you, with your feelings. I know me being here with him isn’t easy. But I can’t do anything other than try my best not to intentionally hurt anyone.”

  “You make it hard when you flaunt him in front of me,” she sort of whisper-yells, giving an icy stare to someone who walks into the classroom and has the audacity to look in her direction.

  “I’m not giving up Harry. I’m sorry,” I tell her. “But what if we tried to be friends?”

  She lets out a snort. “Please. Why should we have to be friends?”

  “It’s obvious we can’t just ignore one another. I think we’re both too … stubborn for that. So, since all of our friends seem to be friends and we have the same classes and detention and everything else, maybe we should just try.”

  “I don’t want to try. I just want you gone.” She flips her blonde hair over one shoulder, turns on her heel, and walks into the classroom.

  I lean my back against the wall, aching for some relief.

  It seems like everyone’s mad at me today.

  Except for Harry.

  But even he would be mad at me if he knew the things that Noah had said to me yesterday.

  If he knew that I had allowed it.

  If he heard what Noah had said in Art.

  I let out a groan, knowing that I’m a serious chicken and maybe not as good of a person as I thought.

  Maybe I’m just selfish.

  Maybe I like the attention from Noah and Harry.

  Maybe I like feeling close to them.

  To not having to commit to one.

  But I know that’s not true.

  I really like both of them.

  But I want to be with Harry.

  I push off the wall, deciding to venture into the classroom. Harry’s not in his seat yet, but Olivia and Naomi both look at me when I walk in the door. Olivia gives me a once over, before raising her nose in the air and glancing away.

  Figures.

  Naomi gives me a closed-mouth smile, but it seems more out of pity than anything else.

  I sit down in my chair, wishing the day could be over.

  I don’t want to sit through another class.

  Especially not one where I can’t have Harry next to me.

  I’m sure Mr. Pritchard will separate us again. Make Harry sit in the corner, his hands tucked behind his back.

  I cover my face with my hands, wanting to crawl into a hole and never come out. But then I feel the air shift next to me, hearing someone take a seat behind me.

  “Someone’s stressed,” I hear Harry say, his hands coming up to rub my shoulders.

  I lean my head back, practically falling into the feeling.

  “Oh my goodness,” I say, letting out a long exhale. “That feels amazing.”

  I close my eyes, letting Harry’s thumbs work out the kinks in my shoulders.

  Maybe, with a few m
ore minutes, he’ll be able to work out all the kinks in my life.

  “It was torture in the last class, not being able to sit behind you,” Harry says, leaning in to whisper into my ear.

  I glance over my shoulder at him.

  And suddenly, my mood changes.

  I shift from being upset to relaxed.

  And it’s because of the gorgeous boy seated behind me.

  “You’d better be careful,” I flirt, “or he’s going to make you move again.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Harry, and he drops his hands, placing his palms on his desk.

  “You’re right,” he says with a wink. “I’m better off saving this massage for a more private place.”

  “I think you might be the biggest flirt I’ve ever met.” I grin at him.

  “I can’t help it,” he says, smiling back at me. “You’re too much fun to flirt with. And you always have the best comebacks.” He leans in closer to me, his hand coming up onto my shoulder. “And the best reactions,” he adds suggestively.

  I take his hand off of my shoulder and turn around fully. He bites his lip, looking at me, but I just shake my head.

  “Seriously, I don’t want you to get into any more trouble because of me.”

  “Mallory, you know, everything that happened with my dad, it wasn’t your fault.” His face tightens, his eyes growing serious.

  “I know. I just … I don’t want to do anything to make things worse,” I admit, shrugging at him.

  Harry speaks quieter, moving his head closer to me so no one hears us, “I know. But this, you, it helps.”

  “Okay.”

  I do my best to smile at him, but then Mr. Pritchard starts class.

  Harry doesn’t touch me for the rest of class, but I can feel his presence behind me. My mind slips from Harry to what Noah said.

  That I drive him crazy. And it makes me wonder, Do I drive Harry crazy too? Does Harry drive me crazy?

  I let the thought simmer, but I think the answer is no.

  Harry doesn’t drive me crazy.

  He makes me excited. I have fun with him.

  But I never feel out of control.

  He makes me feel calm.

  And happy.

  When the bell goes off, I feel better. I was able to think things through while taking notes.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Harry says, raising his eyebrows at me as we walk out of class holding hands.

  I give his hand a little squeeze and smile. “See you tonight.”

  What does it matter?

  4:00pm

  I turn toward my locker, realizing I can put my textbooks away. All I have to work on tonight is my art project, and thankfully, it’s almost done.

  The hallway starts to clear out as I grab my folder and put it into my bag.

  “You’re dating?” Noah asks, suddenly at my side.

  I look up at him, my eyes going wide.

  “You’re dating?” he repeats, looking pissed.

  “How did you find out?” I reply, biting my lip, afraid to say much else.

  Because Noah is mad.

  Like, really mad.

  He’s looking around. Looking everywhere but at me.

  “How did I find out? How did I find out?” He almost laughs. “Fucking hell, Mal.”

  “Calm down,” I state, more to myself than to him.

  Because. I. Am. Freaking. Out.

  Noah’s eyes look wild.

  “What does it matter anyway?” I try to put this back on him.

  “What does it matter? I asked you at lunch today what was going on. And you lied to me,” he glares.

  “I just didn’t think it was the right time to say anything.” I shrug, trying to play it cool. Because maybe if I relax, he will too.

  “The right time to tell me,” Noah says, lowering his voice, “would have been the other morning.”

  I slam my locker shut, wanting to be out of this hallway. Out of school. And out of this conversation.

  “What? You mean, the morning when you were all like, I want you, Mallory,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “God, you don’t have to repeat it. Yes, that morning. Listen to me.” He grabs my arm, stopping me. “That morning never happened, do you hear me?”

  I search his face because he has to be joking.

  “Seriously?” I say, pulling away from him.

  “It never happened,” Noah repeats. He shakes his head, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, like he needs to feel free.

  He looks frustrated and uncomfortable.

  “Of course it happened, Noah.”

  “No, it didn’t. Because I thought things were over between you and Harry. That’s what you’d led me to believe.” He scowls at me. “But obviously, they aren’t. And that’s the end of it.”

  Noah pushes his hand through his hair, looking like he’s made his mind up. And it makes me upset.

  “You can’t just declare something is over,” I growl at him.

  “I can,” Noah corrects, taking a step closer to me. “And I am. Everything I said, I take it all back. I retract my previous offer.”

  His words hurt, and I physically have to take a step back to get away from him.

  “And what if I want you?” I say, trying to argue with him.

  Because he can’t just make a decision for me. Not that there’s even a decision to make.

  “What?” he says, his cheeks flushing.

  “Hypothetically, I mean. You can’t just decide things for me.”

  Noah’s face falls at my words. “I can, Mallory. I’m not an option at all any longer. If you and Harry are together, great. If you aren’t, fine. But I will have nothing to do with it. Or with you.”

  “Noah,” I say, his words taking the breath out of me.

  I feel like I might fall over.

  Like everything is crashing down on me. “I …” I start to speak, but tears well up in my eyes.

  The idea that Noah would stop being my friend, the idea that I couldn’t talk to him, see him, it hurts too much.

  I can’t not have him in my life.

  I suck in a gasp, trying to wrap my head around what he just said.

  “We can be friends,” Noah says, taking a step closer. He puts his hand on my arm, looking down at me.

  For a moment, I think things might be okay.

  But then he drops my arm. “I can’t believe you.”

  “You can’t believe me?”

  “You should have told me yesterday,” he says, pacing in front of me, his eyes glued to the ground.

  “How am I supposed to know what you’re feeling?” I ask defensively. “You’re the hottest and coldest person I’ve ever met. One second, you hate me, and the next, you want me? How am I supposed to tell when you’re being serious and when you’re just messing with me?” I question, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Noah narrows his eyes at me.

  His normally brown eyes are glowing brighter now, his high cheekbones and strong jaw grabbing my attention.

  Everything about him looks cold and hardened.

  “You should have been able to feel it, Mal. I felt it,” Noah whispers before glancing over his shoulder.

  He looks around the hallway, finding it empty.

  “Felt what?” I ask, wanting him to be direct for once.

  “You should have felt that there was nothing but a breath separating us in the bathroom yesterday morning,” he says, moving closer to me.

  I practically feel him on my skin.

  Noah looks across my face before continuing, “You should have felt it when your nails were digging into my back. The way you pressed your hips into mine. You should have felt it when I had you pinned in bed, my lips at your ear. And you should have felt it when you were sitting in my fucking lap.”

  “Noah,” I breathe out, my whole body pounding at his words. At the memories.

  “No,” he says, stopping me. “Now, that breath between us is gone. We aren’t anything.”

  “I did
n’t even know we were something, Noah,” I argue.

  He can’t take something that wasn’t anything and then say it was, just to discredit it.

  He can’t pretend that he was clear with me.

  “Why is it so hard for you to see?” he asks, his voice faltering. “Why don’t you realize anything? It was so obvious.”

  I look him over, trying to figure out what to do.

  What am I supposed to say?

  How do I handle this?

  Because, no, it wasn’t obvious.

  But I don’t want to lose him.

  “Just relax. It’s hard because we don’t have any boundaries, Noah. We haven’t defined what we are—ever,” I say, trying to make him understand.

  “Then, we need to make it crystal clear,” he says firmly. “We are friends, and that is it.”

  “And the fact that you flirted with me, that you hugged me and told me you wanted me?” I whisper, looking around to make sure we are still alone. “What about that?” I ask, searching his face.

  “Not anymore,” he says harshly.

  “Fine,” I reply.

  Because I don’t know what else to say.

  “Fine,” he repeats, rubbing his hand over his mouth and down his chin.

  “Let’s just go,” I say, wanting to be out of this school.

  I pull my bag up on my shoulder, taking off down the hallway. Noah catches up to me, walking at my side.

  He doesn’t say anything until after we have left the school grounds and are halfway home.

  “Why are you mad anyway? This is what you wanted. You said yes to him,” Noah starts in again.

  I shake my head, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

  “I said yes before,” I reply, finally getting the words out. I said yes on Saturday night before Noah came into the bathroom. Before he wrapped his arms around me. Before he pinned me down in bed.

  “But you said yes,” Noah replies, pursing his lips.

  And he’s right.

  I did say yes.

  I said yes to Harry.

  “We’re home,” Noah calls out when we get to the house.

  The rest of our walk home was spent in silence, and everything about our conversation has me upset. Noah was serious. But he was right. I chose Harry. And honestly, right now, I’m happy I did. Because Harry is straightforward. He is honest about how he feels about me. And I like him.