Mohammad’s eyes go wide with surprise.
“How’d he take it?” he asks, leaning toward me.
“He took it … badly,” I admit. “But I think we’re going to be fine.”
“All right,” Mohammad says, but I’m not sure he’s convinced.
“I promise,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“Well, come on then, what happened?” he pushes, now wanting to know the details.
And I know that I finally have him back. I look around, making sure that no one can hear us.
“It was honestly terrible. He was so upset. I mean, he really freaked out. It was so awkward, walking home from school afterward. And oh my God, I almost forgot about this,” I say, remembering Sophia.
“What?” Mohammad asks excitedly.
“When we got back to the house, Sophia was there,” I say, my eyes flaring for emphasis. “Helen had invited her over because she thought we might hit it off. And, well, I blew any chance of that.”
“What happened?” Mohammad asks, his brows rising in interest.
“I sort of had a mine’s bigger than yours competition when it came to how well we knew Noah. She was all close with him, and I was so annoyed by it.”
“You didn’t …” Mohammad covers his mouth with his hand.
“I did. And then I proceeded to blubber to Helen and apologize. I told Noah I was sorry too. And I probably owe you an apology. It was shitty, knowing that you were upset today. I’m sorry.”
“Stop,” Mohammad says, pulling me into a hug. “We’re all good, Miss America.”
“Good,” I reply, hugging him back.
“Can I get in on this action?” I hear Harry’s voice before I see him, his arms wrapping around Mohammad and me. “Get in here, Noah,” he calls out.
“Hi.” I grin, catching Harry’s eyes.
“Hey.” He smiles back.
I take in his white top and matching shorts and instantly want to melt. He looks preppy and adorable. His blue eyes stand out, and he seems happy.
We all unlace our arms from one another.
“You ready?” Mohammad asks him.
Harry waves his hand in the air. “I know the guy I’ll be playing against, and he’s rather shit. Won’t even have to try today, boys.” He smirks, looking between Mohammad and Noah. “Come on, Mallory. I’ll show you the courts.”
He takes my hand, leading me down the long hallway before pushing into an empty court.
“Well, this is it,” Harry comments, looking around himself.
I take in the empty room and then look to Harry.
“Very exciting.” I laugh.
Harry tilts his head, grinning at me. He laces his fingers through mine, pulling me closer to him.
“Not really. But I’m glad you’re here,” he says. Then, he takes my waist in his hands and pulls me into a kiss.
When I kiss him back, his hands slip further down until his palms are on my butt.
“Find something you like?” I ask against his lips.
“Mmhmm. I really like you in these jeans,” he says, giving me a little squeeze.
A flush rises to my cheeks, my heart speeding up in my chest.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” he replies, pressing his lips against mine.
I want to run my hands across his back and into his hair, but I also realize that we’re in a glass room, and anyone walking past would see us.
After a few minutes, I pull away. “We should probably get back.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I give him a stern look.
“Fine. Head coach is probably going mad,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine, pulling me back into the hallway.
“Harry,” I start, but then a man comes rushing up to us.
And he looks upset.
“Harry,” he growls, “you’re supposed to be with the team.”
I drop Harry’s hand, trying my best to become invisible.
“Well, I’m here now.” Harry shrugs, walking past the man who must be the coach.
He moves into the room with the rest of the team, who is now huddled up, talking. The man’s mouth falls slightly open, and then he looks back at me. I press my lips together tightly, not sure what to say, but he finally walks off.
I step up the almost-empty bleachers and sit down next to Mohammad and Noah. Apparently, there aren’t too many squash fans.
“So, did Harry actually give you a tour, or did he just take you around the corner for a snog?” Mohammad teases.
I roll my eyes at him, trying to act casual. But on the inside, I’m freaking out.
Because he just said that in front of Noah.
Noah.
And I know I told Mohammad that Noah and I were fine, but we aren’t that fine.
And now, Noah is glaring at me.
I bite my lip, hoping that if I make it red, maybe he won’t notice they are actually pink from kissing.
I swallow hard, brushing a piece of hair off of my shoulder, trying not to lose my shit on Mohammad.
I move my focus to the court, watching as the huddle breaks apart. Harry’s up first, and I watch him look with indifference at the guy he’s matched against. Harry always seems so easygoing.
But then he glances over his shoulder at us, and I notice a glint of seriousness in his eye.
I smile and wave at him.
Mohammad whistles, and I see a smile play on Harry’s lips.
“So, I heard Sophia Burke was over at your house today,” Mohammad comments, breaking the silence that settled upon us, as Harry serves.
I whip my head in his direction. “Mohammad,” I growl, glaring at him.
Because he is not going to get any more information if he keeps bringing it up at the worst times.
But he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He’s looking at Noah, waiting for a response.
“Yeah, Mum asked her to pop by,” Noah says simply.
“How was it?” Mohammad pushes.
I elbow him in the ribs, wanting him to just keep his mouth shut.
He glances over at me and mouths, Relax.
Please, I can’t relax!
He’s taking everything I told him in private and bringing it up to Noah, which literally defeats the purpose of me telling him alone.
I let out a heavy sigh, running my hands down across my face.
“It was normal, I guess,” Noah comments, grabbing my attention. I look over at him, watching his expression. “I’m used to seeing her around with Mia, so it was different, having her there without Mia.”
“Hmm,” Mohammad huffs, seeming to not like his answer. “I always thought there was something going on between you two.”
My mouth practically falls open at Mohammad’s words.
Noah’s face scrunches up, and he glances between the two of us. “Wait, you’re the one who planted that idea in Mallory’s head?”
I pinch my lips shut, not wanting any part of this conversation.
This is between Noah and Mohammad, and I am staying so far out of it that I hope they forget I’m even here.
I look back at the court, watching Harry serve again. I’m here to watch him play, not gossip.
“You’ve always been … comfortable with her,” Mohammad says with a shrug.
“There’s a difference between being comfortable with someone and being into them,” Noah states firmly.
I peek over at Noah, watching as he pushes his hands back through his hair.
“Is there though?” Mohammad asks.
I’m sort of surprised at how Mohammad seems to be going head-to-head with Noah.
I stay silent, waiting for Noah to burst.
But he doesn’t.
He looks at Mohammad, his lips pulling to the side.
And I can tell that he’s thinking.
“Of course there is,” Noah finally says, now looking directly at me. “She’s like a sister.”
“A hot sister,” Mohammad states, stari
ng at the court.
And I instantly want to strangle him again.
Noah just rolls his eyes and then starts paying attention to the match.
We all do.
I watch Harry shift across the court, always moving to hit the ball. It never seems to get past him.
“Shit,” Mohammad says beside me. He’s bouncing his leg up and down, looking uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask.
And I’m not sure why I even bother asking.
I don’t even know if I want to be talking to him right now.
He’s made everything so awkward, and it’s forced us to sit in silence.
“Shouldn’t have drunk that second soda,” he replies, getting up. “I’ve got to run to the loo.”
He hurries off the bleachers before throwing open a set of doors that must lead to the restrooms.
“What was that about?” I ask Noah.
Noah looks toward me, but his eyes shift to the open space between us where Mohammad was sitting.
He must not like the space because he scoots closer.
“The individual matches aren’t that long, maybe twenty to forty minutes. He probably doesn’t want to miss anything.”
I nod at him but then look back at Harry.
I watch his arm swing, his body moving easily in the court.
And the guys were right. For someone who says he doesn’t care and seems so nonchalant, he’s good.
“I have to admit, I thought you would have had more of a reaction,” Noah says next to me.
“A reaction to what?”
“Well, after seeing the way you watched me during my football match or practicing at lunch, you almost seem disinterested in this.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just find it interesting. You don’t seem all that impressed.”
I turn and glare at him. “I am interested. And eventually, I’ll learn what’s going on and be even more interested.”
“Fine, you’re interested,” he says, raising his hands up.
I don’t want to deal with his attitude right now, but I can tell he’s upset.
Probably because I told Mohammad about Sophia.
But it doesn’t matter because I’m here to watch Harry.
I refocus my attention on him, his cute body moving across the court in his all-white outfit, as Mohammad rejoins us.
“Yes.” Noah claps, standing up.
Harry seems to get another point because the kid he is playing with dips his head, giving off that I lost look.
“What happened?” I ask, looking up to Noah and Mohammad as they stand up.
“He won,” Noah replies, clapping some more.
“Oh,” I say, standing up and clapping with them.
I have absolutely no idea what’s going on, but I figure that Noah should know.
“So, what happens next?”
“Normally, they play five games each in individual matches, but since it’s a team competition, they match up all the players, and whatever team wins the most games wins the match,” Mohammad says.
“So, that’s why the other players are in the courts down the hallway,” I say, trying to piece things together.
“Exactly,” Mohammad confirms.
Harry comes out of the court, a few beads of sweat running down his face.
“Well done.” Mohammad grins, pulling Harry into a hug.
“Thanks,” Harry replies, a little out of breath.
“You did amazing.” I smile, trying to support him even though I didn’t exactly follow the game.
Note to self: learn the rules of squash.
He glances over at me, giving me the cutest grin before looking at Noah.
“Great match,” Noah says. “You looked good out there.”
“Felt a little stiff.” He smirks, obviously still well aware that he won.
“It didn’t show.” Mohammad grins, sitting down on the bleacher.
“Now, we’ll just have to wait and see who wins overall,” Noah comments.
Harry rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t care less.”
Harry moves past us, grabbing a towel and water bottle from next to Mohammad. He takes a big gulp and wraps the towel around his neck.
“Well, you are on a team,” Noah scolds.
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry replies, not bothered by his comment.
“What are your plans tonight?” Mohammad cuts in as Harry sits down next to him.
Harry shrugs. “Mum should be home,” he says, glancing up to the clock hanging on the wall.
“She couldn’t make it?” I ask cautiously.
“I didn’t invite her,” he corrects.
“Why?” I blurt out, connecting my eyes with his.
“Didn’t want to deal with her fake mothering,” he replies, breaking my gaze.
“It’s not all fake,” Noah counters.
“She’s been hovering,” Harry replies. “One second, she’s yelling at my dad on the phone, and the next, she’s crying over my leftover bruises to the lawyer. But she doesn’t really care; it’s for show.”
“How long is she staying for?” Mohammad asks.
“Who the fuck knows? But I’m ready for her to leave again.”
Noah ruffles Harry’s hair, trying to comfort him.
“You guys don’t need to wait,” Harry says, looking up at Noah.
He looks … upset.
“You sure?” Mohammad asks, seeming uncomfortable with Harry’s change in attitude.
“Yeah.” Harry nods.
“All right,” Mohammad replies.
I look to Mohammad and Noah, and they both look back at me with concern.
“Would you mind if I stayed? You could walk me home?” I say, turning to Harry.
I don’t want to leave him here alone, but I also don’t want to push him.
So, maybe if I give him something to do, a task, he’ll take the bait.
Harry looks over at me, and I can tell he’s considering his answer.
“Yeah, of course,” he says.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell Noah.
He doesn’t put up a fight, but he doesn’t look happy either.
“And I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Mohammad before giving him a hug.
“See you tomorrow,” he says back, patting Harry on the shoulder before walking off.
“You could have just left with Noah,” Harry says, leaning closer to me.
“I want to leave with you.”
His blue eyes shift, connecting with mine. And then, all of a sudden, he’s kissing me. I press my fingers into his cheeks, kissing him back.
“I don’t want you to put up a wall with your mom,” I say, pulling away from his lips. “I know I shouldn’t say that, but I feel like I have to. It might not be my place, but I don’t want to see you like this.”
I lace my fingers through his, resting our hands in my lap.
“I’m not putting up a wall,” Harry replies, holding my gaze.
“You’re not letting her in either though, are you?” I ask gently.
His blue eyes search mine. “I don’t have parents like yours.”
“Did something happen today, after school?”
Because, at school, he was fine. But now, the way he’s talking, something’s off.
“I don’t know what to say. Even when Mum was around before, she wasn’t really present. I could count on that. Now, I feel like I’m under a microscope.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult this has been. I’m not saying things with your mom are right. Or that anything is right. I’m just saying, try to keep an open heart.”
Harry’s fingers tense around mine. “My mum and dad lost the right to my heart a long time ago.”
I nod, not wanting to push him. “I can understand that.”
Harry puts his finger under my chin, bringing my face to his. “You look sad.”
“I just want you to be happy,” I reply.
“We all have our off moments.�
��
“I want to make your off moments right; that’s all.”
“You do.” Harry grins, pulling me into a hug.
He presses his chin into my shoulder, his fingers slipping around my waist. I hold him tighter, wanting him to know that I’m here. I’ll always be here for him.
“Tell me something you’re excited about,” I urge.
“I’m excited for our date,” he says, winking at me.
“What about it?”
“Well, the dessert, of course,” he says, giving me another kiss.
“Shocking.” I laugh, remembering our conversation this morning.
Harry grins and I can already tell he’s feeling better.
A few guys from the team come over to us, patting Harry on the back.
He glances up, realizing they’ve won.
“Congratulations,” I tell him.
He smiles at me and then at his teammates, but suddenly, he’s pulling me up off the bleacher.
“Finally. Let’s go,” he says, pushing his way through the door and out of the gym.
Harry wraps his hand around mine as we walk.
The breeze has picked up, but the cool, crisp air feels nice.
I look over at Harry, who still has on his white top and shorts but with the addition of a Burberry jacket. A duffel is hanging over his shoulder.
He sort of looks like he just walked off a tennis court and threw on a coat.
And I like that about him.
Most people would want to change, or they would button up their jacket, feeling self-conscious.
But not Harry.
He walks with confidence, as though he wasn’t meant to wear anything other than exactly what he has on.
He owns it. And he looks adorable.
In our silence, I think about school, about my day.
“I’m turning in my art project tomorrow.”
“Yeah?” Harry asks.
“Mmhmm. It’s about Helen and Mia actually.”
“What sort of project?”
“I had to make this collage that’s supposed to represent an emotion. So, since Helen told me about how Mia went to Greece on her student exchange, I thought I would do my project on that. Their mother-daughter connection, their love.”
Harry looks over at me, a smile on his face. “Helen will love that.”
“I hope so,” I admit, feeling a flush on my cheeks.
“You’re going to give it to her, aren’t you?”
“I hope to at least. Unless I get a terrible grade or something.”
London Prep: Book Two Page 9