“Anna,” I say, feeling a little more than judged.
“You’ve broken the one single rule that you weren’t supposed to break.”
“And what was that?” I ask.
“No. Permanent. Relationships. You said you were going to go to London and have fun. Vacation. Drink some beer. And then come home,” she states.
“That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is that you’re going to come back home to New York with a boyfriend who lives in London. I mean, seriously, Mallory. What are you thinking?”
“We could make it work.”
They’re the first words that come out of my mouth.
And I can hear how childish they sound.
“Sure,” Anna says sarcastically.
“We could,” I say more firmly.
“You leave in a little over a week. Break up with him, have some fun, and stop with this relationship bullshit.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I know you,” she replies.
“And?” I question, wanting her to get to her point.
“And you’re going to come back, attached, with some fantasy, thinking you can make it work. You’re a romantic, and you’ll think you share a bond that will last a lifetime. But the truth is, you’ll come back, break up, and then be heartbroken. Well, I’m telling you now, I won’t feel sorry for heartbroken Mallory.”
“Anna!” I shout into the phone. Because I cannot believe the words that are coming out of her mouth.
“No. You were supposed to come back to me as detoxed, happy, vacationed Mallory.”
“That’s insensitive.”
“What’s insensitive is that you haven’t talked to me in a week and a half, and now, you expect me to be happy for you.”
“Fine then,” I say with frustration.
Because I’m pissed, and her words hurt.
“Fine,” she yells back, hanging up on me.
I throw my phone onto the floor and instantly want to both scream and cry.
Not because I’m mad at her.
But because she’s right.
I’m probably going to come home with my heart broken and dump that on her. I’ve been a shitty friend, and I’ve gotten attached to people here.
I did everything that I said I wouldn’t do.
And I’m not the only one who’s going to pay for it.
Friday, October 4th
My moment of glory.
6:40am
I wake up, feeling heartbroken.
My alarm goes off, but I ignore it. My stomach is in knots, and I feel stuck between being exhausted and knowing that I won’t be able to go back to sleep. I barely slept at all last night, Anna’s words haunting me.
I don’t know what to do.
Or how to pull myself together.
So, I decide not to do anything.
I stay tucked in bed, thinking about what Anna said.
That I’m going to get hurt.
That I’ll hurt people in the process.
I think about how Harry and I are going to handle it when it’s time for me to leave.
How am I even going to be able to leave?
The thought makes me want to cry again, but I’m not sure I have any tears left. I feel hollowed out and empty.
“Mallory?” Noah says, coming into my room.
I don’t answer him.
I don’t say anything.
I roll away from him, turning to lie on my side, facing the wall.
“Mallory, you need to get up.” Noah’s voice rings in my ear.
I feel like he’s talking to me through thick fog, and I decide to let the fog stay.
The bed gives next to me, the weight of another body pressing into it.
“Mal?”
“I can’t get out of bed,” I whisper, not even sure if he can hear me.
Noah’s hand wraps around my arm, forcing me to roll over toward him.
I don’t connect my eyes with his. I just stare at what’s in front of me, keeping my head on my pillow.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice is filled with concern, and when I allow myself to look up at him, I see that his face is too.
He takes in my reddened eyes and dry nose. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I blink a few times, not sure what to say.
I don’t feel any tears form, and I start to wonder if maybe I’m going to just stay frozen in place, this feeling of panic seeping into every part of my body.
Noah slips under the covers with me, resting his head on my pillow, his face a few inches from mine.
I watch his plump lips ache to move, but they don’t.
His face twitches, but he just stares at me, his expression softening.
I open my mouth, knowing that I need to say something. “I … I talked to my fri … I talked to Anna last night,” I finally get out, feeling my dry mouth fill with water. At the same time, my eyes do, too, and my body feels like it’s being flooded.
I scrunch up my forehead, her words pouring into my mind.
I let my mouth hang open, feeling myself start to cry without any noise, my body shaking.
Noah instantly pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around me.
I can hear myself crying into his chest, but it doesn’t even sound like me.
It sounds like someone else completely.
“Shh,” Noah soothes.
I try to fixate on his voice.
I try to calm myself down, letting the feeling of his hand running down my hair distract me.
“It’s okay.”
I shake my head against his chest.
Because it’s not okay.
It’s not.
“She went on and on,” I continue, feeling my chest burn at the words. “I’m going to leave here, heartbroken. I’m crazy for dating someone. I’m crazy for getting attached. To you. To Mohammad. To Harry. To your mom, to Gene. And she’s right. She’s right, Noah.”
Tears slip down my cheeks, and I can taste salt on my lips.
Noah pulls me closer, his body curving in toward me. “She’s not right,” he whispers. “Life isn’t so cut and dry. You can’t expect to stay somewhere and not create bonds. To not start caring.”
“I shouldn’t have let myself,” I whimper into his chest.
Because she was right.
I’m not only going to hurt myself.
I’m going to hurt Harry. Noah. Mohammad.
I’m going to hurt everyone.
“Look at me,” Noah says into my ear, his hand on my cheek.
I shake my head because I don’t want to look at him.
I don’t want him to see me like this.
“I would be concerned if you didn’t feel this way,” Noah says, running his hand up and down my back. “I don’t know how you’re handling it, honestly.”
“How are you handling it?” I ask, pulling back. I bring my hand up to my nose, wiping at it. No matter how many times I wipe at my face, it stays damp.
Noah uses his thumbs to gently wipe the tears away from under my eyes. Then, he lifts up the hem of his shirt, wiping under my nose as he pushes my hair off my face.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, working on making me not such a disaster.
But I already see it in his eyes.
The sadness.
“Noah,” I say, bringing my hand up onto his to stop him.
He keeps his hand on my jaw, looking at me.
He presses his lips together, his brown eyes getting glossy. “I’m trying not to think about it. Spending time with you, Harry, Mohammad, I’m happy. I want to enjoy that time, not be sad during it.”
“Doesn’t it make it almost … bittersweet?” I ask, trying to figure out how he’s feeling.
“No. It feels special.”
“But she’s right, Noah. I will have to leave,” I breathe out the words, feeling my stomach twist as I say them.
Noah sucks in his cheeks, his expression becomi
ng hardened. “I know.”
“And how does that make you feel?” I ask as more tears escape.
Noah shakes his head, a tear slipping from his own eye. And I instantly feel my lips start to quiver.
“Don’t cry,” I urge, my hands touching Noah’s creamy complexion.
“It’s okay,” he says, his lips pulling to the side. “I don’t have an answer for you. I just want to experience now, now,” he says, his eyes searching my face.
I watch a fat tear roll down his cheek, and my finger aches to wipe it away. But I also want to keep it there. To always remember it.
“Noah, I’m so confused,” I admit, connecting my eyes with his.
“It’s okay,” he says again, like it’s the only thing he can come up with.
“Noah, last night, Harry and I …”
“You’re his girlfriend,” he finishes, his face softening.
“You know?”
“I guessed,” he admits.
“Are you upset?” I ask, another tear rolling down my cheek.
Because all of this is just too much. I have too many feelings, too many emotions running through me.
I swallow hard, my throat tightening up. I feel like a weight is on my chest, and I close my eyes, waiting for his words—both needing to hear them and dreading them at the same time.
“Are you happy?” he asks, running his hand over my cheek.
I lean into his fingers, allowing them to soothe me.
“I am,” I whisper.
“Then, how could I be upset?”
I open my eyes, looking at Noah, trying to absorb his words.
He’s wearing a sad smile, and I know wants to comfort me.
I let my fingers move off of his face, and I scoot down further until my head is just below his chest.
I press my head against his stomach, wrapping my arms around him. Because here, I don’t have to look at him. I don’t have to feel his heartbeat pounding within my own body.
I just take in warm, soft Noah.
His fingers move across my back, rubbing back and forth on my skin.
Once I finally feel a little better, I peek my head out from under the covers.
“We’re a mess,” I say, wiping at my face.
“We are,” Noah agrees, his head still on my pillow.
“We need to pull ourselves together,” I say, more as an instruction to myself than anything else.
“It’s okay to cry.”
“But you’re right, Noah. We need to have fun. To be happy. To appreciate the time. I can’t get consumed by grief for the future when it hasn’t even happened yet.”
“What is this really about, Mal? This isn’t like you.”
“I’m not always so strong,” I reply, avoiding his question.
Noah’s eyes stay on me, his pink lips pursing.
“I don’t know why, but somehow, this feels like my life.”
“This is your life,” Noah says, a sweet smile on his lips.
I lightly push against his chest. I need to figure out how to make my words make sense. “I’m scared, Noah. I’m scared that … when I leave, my heart will break. Because this feels like where I’m supposed to be.”
Noah studies my face. “I know.”
“I’ll figure things out,” I say, wanting to comfort myself.
“We will figure it out,” he corrects.
I give him my best smile, throw the covers off of us, and stand up.
“Come on. We’ve got to get ready for school.”
“Why don’t you go down and have a coffee while I shower?” Noah suggests.
He looks concerned.
Really concerned.
“Go on,” I say.
I follow him into the hallway. “Now, hurry up, or we’ll never be ready on time.”
Noah turns, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll do my best. But you know me, Mal. Apparently, I take forever in the shower.”
I roll my eyes at him, but I can’t help the grin that forms on my face.
I push him into the bathroom and go downstairs, but it’s not until I’m in the kitchen that I hear the bathroom door close.
I make myself a coffee, hoping it will help wake me up. But before I know it, Noah is downstairs and ushering me up to shower.
“Maybe I’ll just wear my hair up today.” I’m not in the mood to get ready.
“No. Shower,” Noah says, walking with me into the steamy bathroom and turning the water back on.
“Why?” I mumble.
“Because you need it,” he says, closing me in the bathroom.
Because you need it, I mutter the words under my breath, feeling a little annoyed that Noah’s telling me what to do.
But I know he just wants to help.
I decide to do what he said and shower. I wash my face and hair, letting everything go with the water.
When I turn off the shower, I’m already feeling better. I step onto the rug, wrap myself up in a fluffy towel, and grab my lotion, lathering it onto my skin. I make my way out of the bathroom, go into my room, and put on my uniform.
I throw on a little lip balm and mascara, hoping it will help me feel better.
Knowing that Naomi will be doing my hair tonight, I decide to just let it air dry.
When I head down the hallway to the stairs, I find Noah in the bathroom, holding onto my face cream.
I watch him for a minute as he dips his finger in, plops a bit onto his cheek, and gently rubs it in.
“What are you doing?” I scrunch up my nose at him.
“Shit,” Noah says, dropping the face cream on the counter.
“Scare you?”
“No,” he says unconvincingly, clearing his throat.
“You’re using my face cream,” I state.
“Yeah, well, my sister used to keep her lotion here, but she took it with her. And I have dry skin. What’s the big deal?”
“No big deal,” I tease. “Speaking of Mia, how’s she doing?”
“She’s doing great. Supposedly wants to stay forever. Abandon her family and the London way of life and live off the grid in Greece.”
“Oh,” I say, my eyebrows rising at his description. Because, apparently, I’m not the only one getting a little too comfortable on the exchange. “Sounds like she loves it.”
“Well, she says that. But my sister’s a bit dramatic. The second she leaves the host family’s house and realizes that she can’t cook or do laundry, she’ll come running back.”
“Noah,” I say, scolding him as we go down to the kitchen, “don’t kill her dream.”
“I promise I won’t. I just remind her of those little facts when she starts getting too idealistic.”
“Party pooper,” I state, deciding a banana will have to do this morning.
I’m not sure I could keep much down anyway.
Noah throws a handful of granola bars into his backpack before making our lunches.
I sit down at the table and work on the banana.
“Ready?” Noah asks, holding up our now-filled lunch bags.
“Yeah,” I say.
We go to the front entry, put on our coats, and grab our bags.
I step outside, running straight into Harry.
“Oh shit,” I say, trying to keep from falling over.
“You’re already on your way to school?” Harry says, looking at his watch.
“Morning.” Noah smiles, his eyes drifting to Harry’s hand.
I glance down, finding a bouquet of flowers.
“It’s only seven twenty,” Harry says, looking up at me.
“We’re stopping for coffee,” I say, a smile forming on my lips. “You’re here?”
Harry shakes his head a bit, and I take in his gelled hair and open camel jacket.
“Well, fuck me. I thought I could wake you,” he says, his blue eyes coming to meet mine.
“You wanted to surprise me?” I coo, batting my eyelashes at him.
“Sure …” he starts, glancing over at Noah,
concealing a grin.
“What?” I ask, looking between them. Because Harry looks suspicious.
“Well, I actually just wanted to fuck with Noah,” he says, his face bright. “You know, put whipped cream on his hand, tickle his nose. That sort of shit.”
Noah has a huge grin on his face. I turn, narrowing my gaze in on Harry.
“Are the flowers for Noah then?” I ask, putting my hand onto my hip.
“Of course. You know he’s my one and only love,” Harry teases. But then he gives me a quick kiss and taps my nose with his finger. “They’re for you, silly.”
I smile as Harry hands me the flowers, inhaling their scent. “I’m going to go put them in some water.”
When I come back outside, Harry and Noah are bent over, laughing hysterically about something.
“Ready?” I ask, lacing my fingers through Harry’s hand.
“Mmhmm,” Noah agrees, walking alongside us.
We stop for coffee, getting both Harry and me tall cups. Noah orders two hot chocolates, one for him and one for Mohammad.
“If we see him and I don’t have something, he’ll be sour all day,” Noah explains.
“You’re right about that,” Harry agrees, taking a gulp of his coffee. “Besides, I told him we were getting him one.”
“You did?” Noah asks as we walk through the school’s courtyard and into the common room.
Harry doesn’t answer his question, but he doesn’t need to.
Mohammad is already here, splayed out across a leather club chair.
“Morning.” Noah takes a seat and hands him the cup.
“Oh, this smells good,” Mohammad says, bringing it up to his nose.
“I still can’t believe you brought me flowers,” I say to Harry as we sit down next to Noah.
“Well, I had to do something special,” he whispers, biting his lip.
I search Harry’s face, letting my hand slip against his, our fingers wrapping together.
“This morning, I had a bit of a freak-out,” I admit, feeling silly, even thinking about it.
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes still on me.
“I was overwhelmed. And somehow, it’s like you knew I needed to see you.”
“Anything you need, Mallory.” Harry nods, his blue eyes serious.
I smile at him, but then I turn my attention back to Mohammad and Noah.
“Mallory,” Naomi says, walking toward the seating area. She has half of her hair clipped back and a thin sweater tied around her shoulders.
London Prep: Book Two Page 30