London Prep: Book Two

by Dodd, Jillian

  “I want to know about the date.”

  “And that’s it?” I ask.

  “I want to know how you felt about it too,” Noah says, frustrated. “I don’t want you hiding things because you think it’s awkward. It shouldn’t be.”

  I nod, trying to believe him.

  Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is. And I guess the only way it won’t be is if I stop walking on eggshells.

  “Well, if you want to know, our date was actually really amazing.”

  Noah props himself onto his elbow, his fist against his temple. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It was nice to have time alone, just the two of us. It was romantic.”

  “What did you get up to?” Noah asks, curious.

  “We went to dinner and then had dessert after at this American diner. I’m not sure how Harry found it, but it was so much fun. Different.”

  Noah’s gaze comes up to my face, and he looks relaxed. “I’m glad you had a nice time.”

  I uncross my legs, scooting further down onto the bed so I’m lying flat on my back, my legs hanging off the side. I turn my head toward Noah and watch as he does the same, dropping flat onto the mattress.

  It’s easier to talk to him this way—when I don’t have to look at him.

  When I can just feel his presence beside me.

  I look up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me,” he replies.

  There’s a long silence between us. And I’m not sure what I want to say or if I should even break the silence.

  “So, are you going to tell me what dessert you had at the diner?” Noah asks, shifting on the bed. He turns back onto his side, so he’s facing me, propping his head up. “I know you have a sweet tooth. I’ve seen the chocolate on your lip to prove it.”

  “You definitely have more of a sweet tooth than me.”

  “No way,” Noah says, shaking his head, trying to deny it. But we both know it’s true.

  “We ordered a banana split,” I say, answering his question.

  “Seems like your type of dessert.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the healthiest girl I think I’ve ever met. You would find a way to sneak fruit into a dessert.”

  I turn my head to the side, eyeing him. “Yeah, one single banana buried under a mound of ice cream, chocolate, whipped cream, and toasted nuts. Super healthy.”

  Noah rolls his eyes at me “Come on, Mal. We both know you probably had one bite of the ice cream and then didn’t touch anything else but the banana.”

  I scowl as Noah lets out a deep laugh. I push at his side, annoyed that he’s right.

  I did only want to eat the banana.

  Wednesday, October 2nd

  Feeling feisty.

  6:15am

  “No running this morning,” I state, turning off Noah’s alarm clock.

  “I have to run,” Noah mumbles, squinting one eye open.

  His chestnut hair is a disaster, and pieces are sticking out in every direction. His face has that pink tint to it from a good night’s sleep. And I sort of envy how he can just wake up, looking refreshed and beautiful, while I, on the other hand, need a good thirty minutes to make myself look human.

  “Not today,” I reply, walking over to his wardrobe. I pull out his white button-down shirt, laying it out across the foot of his bed.

  “What are you doing?” he asks with a raspy voice.

  He sits up further in bed, his bare chest grabbing my attention. My eyes move across his chest and down his arms, taking in his muscles.

  I drop my gaze and turn around, moving in front of his dresser.

  “I’m getting out your uniform.” I open his top drawer to find underwear and socks. I groan, picking up his boxers with one finger and tossing them at him.

  “Hey!” Noah tries to shout. But his voice isn’t cooperating with him yet because it comes out all scratchy.

  I ignore him, grabbing socks, a white folded T-shirt, and his trousers.

  “Just get dressed,” I tell him, tossing everything on the bed.

  “Tell me what we’re doing.” He looks more awake now, but when he wipes at his eyes, I can tell he isn’t quite ready to be up yet. He glances over at the clock, taking in the early time.

  “We’re going to be investigators this morning.” I grin, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

  “Investigators?”

  “Yes. Investigators,” I repeat brightly.

  Noah leans his head back against the headboard, letting out a heavy sigh. “And what are we going to be investigating?”

  “Mr. Johnson.” I smile, scrunching up my nose. I can’t help it. I’m excited.

  Noah’s eyes connect with mine, and he looks at me with judgment. “No,” he states.

  “Yes. We have to. It will be fun. Harry and Mohammad are meeting us there. Come on.”

  “I don’t want to do anything this morning but go back to bed,” Noah whines, pushing out his bottom lip.

  “You’re pouting. And it’s not going to work.”

  “But it’s cold,” he replies, giving me puppy-dog eyes.

  “And that’s London for you.”

  “Let’s just stay in bed.”

  I shake my head and stand up, but Noah pulls me back down onto the bed and under the covers.

  “See, nice and warm. It’s like a cocoon,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest.

  I put my hands up, not wanting to touch Noah. But all I can think about is that my cheek is on his bare chest and that my hair probably looks like a mess. And I spent extra time putting shine cream in it this morning, so it would look nice.

  But I did that for Harry.

  And I cannot be pressed up against a partially naked Noah when I like Harry.

  But Noah is warm.

  And it’s dark under the covers.

  It would be easy to just stay here forever.

  To forget about this morning and fall back asleep, wrapped in Noah’s arms.

  But I would never do that.

  Ever.

  “Seriously?” I huff, taking Noah’s chin in my hand and forcing him to look at me. “You can’t just pull me under the covers or wrap yourself around me.” I furrow my brow at him, needing him to understand that these are the moments where we need boundaries. When the lines between being friendly and playful are crossing to something else.

  And I intend to make that clear to him.

  Noah rolls his eyes at me. “Fine. We’ll go then. But it’s going to be a waste of time.”

  Noah throws the covers off of us and sits up. He rises from bed in just a pair of pajama pants and smirks at me.

  “It won’t be,” I reply, forcing my eyes to stay on his face. “I don’t care about actually finding out what Mr. Johnson is up to. Or if he is even up to anything. I care about making sure things between Harry and Mohammad are good. Between you and me. Between Mohammad and me. I just want to have fun, the four of us.”

  “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll shower, and then we can go.”

  Noah rolls his eyes as I get up off his bed, doing a little happy dance.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I sing out, feeling accomplished. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Do you think we should pick up juice or some of those delicious bagels on the way?” I ask, running my hands over my skirt, pressing it down.

  My insides are bursting with excitement. The thought of seeing Harry after our date last night leaves me a little breathless. And it comes with the benefit of seeing Mohammad happy. I feel like this morning could, oddly enough, change everything for us.

  After things have been so heavy, I’m ready for a little lightness.

  And fun.

  I’m ready for some fun.

  “I think they would appreciate that, seeing as they probably haven’t had breakfast yet since it’s only six forty-five.” Noah complains, his hands
coming up to hold on to the straps of his backpack at his chest.

  “Grumble all you want, but I know you’re looking forward to this. And I think we should get both. We have fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to meet,” I say, thinking. “What if you grabbed the bagels and I picked up some juice? We could meet in the courtyard?”

  “Whatever,” Noah replies with a huff.

  I put my hand on his arm, stopping him. “Look, if you don’t want to be here, don’t be here. This is supposed to be fun,” I say, frustrated. “Either get on board or stay home.”

  Noah’s eyes narrow in on me, but his expression softens. “I’ll get the bagels.”

  “And I’ll get the juice.” I smile, hoping that maybe if I continue to be annoyingly enthusiastic, he will be forced to do the same.

  He gives me a hard, flat smile before turning up the street.

  When I get to the juice store, I make sure to pick out a variety of flavors—a green one for myself and that pink pear one that Noah likes. I know Harry won’t drink anything green or possibly healthy, so I decide on berry apple for him and carrot for Mohammad.

  I hum the whole way through ordering and walk to school with a smile on my face. When I finally get outside the gates, I see Harry.

  He’s seated in the courtyard on the rounded bench that circles a large tree.

  It’s the focal point of the courtyard, and everything else is open and flat around it.

  Harry’s looking out toward another entrance to the courtyard, a cigarette lit and dangling from his fingers. He runs his free hand across his jaw before pulling at the tie around his neck. He must sense my presence because he looks up at me.

  Based on his fidgeting, I worry that he is upset about something, but when his eyes land on mine, they are sparkling with anticipation. I give him a little wave as I make my way toward him.

  He stands up and throws his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his shoe.

  A second later, I’m flying into his arms, wrapping myself around him.

  “Someone’s happy to see me,” he says, giving me a squeeze.

  “Someone is,” I agree.

  Harry grins down at me and then taps me on the nose. His eyes are bright, and I take a minute to search his face.

  “Is everything all right?”

  He shrugs, not really answering me.

  “Have you seen Mohammad yet?” I ask, changing the subject.

  Because the last thing I want to do is put him in a bad mood.

  “Nah. Where’s Noah?”

  “He’s grabbing breakfast,” I answer.

  “We have a few minutes to ourselves then.”

  Harry grabs my chin, tilting my head up before pressing his lips against mine. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, but I don’t mind.

  Every time Harry kisses me, I get a different flavor.

  A different feeling.

  It reminds me of our first kiss—when he tasted like cold beer. You would think that would be kind of disgusting, but it wasn’t. Memories flood my mind. Harry tasting like chocolate and bananas last night. When we hung out at his house, he tasted like whiskey and a cigarette.

  But there’s always Harry beneath it.

  I kiss him back and lace my fingers through his. I open my eyes again and pull Harry back down onto the bench. I look around, taking in the empty courtyard.

  The stone and brick occupying the emptiness.

  The single tree standing in its midst.

  “We should have a spot,” I comment, glancing over at him.

  Because sitting here with him, it’s sort of romantic.

  “I think my bed should be our spot.”

  “It has to be someplace sentimental. Special.”

  “My bed is definitely special,” he says with a grin, but I can tell he’s thinking at the same time. “What about the pub?”

  “Where we met?”

  “Yeah. That would be considered sentimental, right?”

  I grin at him. “It definitely would be. I think we should go back there soon.”

  “We could role-play,” Harry says, sticking out his tongue at me, his blue eyes sparkling.

  “Role-play?”

  “Yeah.” He nods enthusiastically. “I’ll chat you up again.”

  “Chat me up?” I laugh, my eyebrows rising. “What, you’re going to make me go to the pub by myself? Then, you’ll saunter in, pretend not to know me, and then re-create how we met?”

  “Course not,” Harry banters back. “I couldn’t pick you up in the exact same way. That would be dull.”

  “Would it?” I laugh.

  “Course. I’ve got to put the moves on you again—properly. Show you what I’m good for,” he teases.

  I shake my head, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

  “You’re going to put the moves on me, huh?” I ask, biting my lip.

  Harry’s eyes slip down my face, and he nods. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are clouded over. My chest aches at the feelings fluttering in me, and I press my lips against his.

  I’m not sure what has me feeling so sentimental, but something does. I softly kiss him, opening my mouth. Harry puts his hand on my waist, pulling me closer toward him. I bring my hand up, resting it on his cheek.

  But then I hear footsteps, and Harry breaks our lips apart. I turn, finding Noah walking toward us. He has a brown paper sack in one hand, a coffee in the other.

  My stomach tightens as I brace for his reaction. Because he always has one.

  But when his gaze flits over to me, he looks calm. He looks okay.

  More than okay actually.

  He smiles at me.

  And then he turns and smiles at Harry.

  “Finally,” Harry says, standing up. He pulls Noah into a hug, ruffling his hair. “Was beginning to think you all bailed on us this morning.”

  Noah grins at him. “Nah. There were actually just more people at the bagel shop than expected.”

  “It’s fucking mad, isn’t it? Poor bastards, already up for work,” Harry replies.

  “It’s not that early,” I huff, narrowing my eyes in at Harry.

  “Early morning cigarette?” Noah asks, glancing down at the ground.

  My eyes follow and land on the cigarette butt at Harry’s feet.

  “Mum wasn’t too thrilled about me being out last night,” Harry comments, dropping Noah’s gaze.

  “What?” I cut in, looking at Harry.

  “You didn’t tell her you were going out, did you?” Noah asks.

  Harry waves his hand out in the air in front of him. “She’s been fucking on edge.” He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, lighting up another one. “Apparently, now, I’m supposed to let her know when I’ll be out or some shit. Thank God she’s leaving.”

  “When is she leaving?” I ask, feeling like I’ve already fallen behind on the news since last night.

  “Friday morning. There’s some meeting she and Dad have to be at.”

  I glance up at Noah, watching as he nods.

  “We’ll have to have some fun this weekend then?” Noah grins, shifting his eyes to Harry.

  Noah holds Harry’s gaze, and then, all of a sudden, Harry’s lips pull into a wide smile.

  He raises his eyebrows, sucking in another drag. “I think we will.”

  “We’ll have to see what Mohammad can come up with,” Noah says, looking around, taking in the empty courtyard. “He always has some crazy ideas stored away in the back of his mind.”

  “I feel like giving Mohammad control of a Friday night could be a little dangerous.” I laugh.

  “Probably is,” Noah agrees. “But if that’s what it takes to get Harry’s attitude sorted out …” he says more to Harry than me.

  “My man,” Harry says. He drops his cigarette, putting it out. It was only halfway finished, but I don’t think he cares. “You always know how to cheer me up.” Harry throws his arm over Noah’s shoulders.

  “Where the fuck’s Mohammad anyway?”
Harry comments, impatiently looking around. “If you’d told me I’d be the first to this party, I’d never have believed you.”

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “Let me text him.”

  “I wouldn’t have believed it either,” Noah jokes.

  I listen as he and Harry laugh while I pull out my phone.

  When I look down at the screen, I have almost five texts from Mohammad. “Shit.”

  “What?” Harry asks.

  “Mohammad’s been texting me,” I say, reading through his messages. “Updates.”

  “Updates?” Harry laughs.

  “Apparently, he’s on the side of the school. Said to meet him there.”

  “Well, we’d better go find him,” Harry says. He starts walking out of the courtyard, leaving Noah and me to tag along behind him.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Noah says, extending the coffee in his hand.

  “Forgot what?” Harry asks over his shoulder.

  “Mallory’s coffee,” Noah responds easily.

  “Thanks.” I take the cup from him and grin.

  A single sip causes my whole body to relax.

  “Always one step ahead,” Harry replies with admiration.

  “Just figured I should get this one some coffee, so she doesn’t crash in Statistics.” Noah laughs.

  I glance over at Noah, taking in his sparkling eyes. For someone who woke up in a bad mood, his demeanor has completely shifted. And I’m not sure if I should be happy or offended that him seeing Harry and getting a little fresh air have the ability to brighten him up so much.

  And the fact that, apparently, I don’t.

  “Mohammad,” Harry shouts, grabbing my attention.

  Harry walks off of the sidewalk, cutting through the grass until he gets to the side of Kensington School.

  I search the empty grass and towering brick walls, trying to figure out where he saw Mohammad.

  “Shh,” I hear.

  I follow the voice and find Mohammad hunched over in a bush.

  I narrow my eyes in on him, taking in his black hoodie and beanie.

  I have to do a double take because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in anything other than a polo or a button-down.

  “What are you wearing?” I ask, noticing a pair of binoculars in his hands.