London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Well”—I smile back, a small laugh escaping—“I definitely didn’t expect this.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t,” he replies as we move down the center aisle, finding two seats at the back.

  “So, I have to ask, why a double-decker bus?” The wind whips against my face, and I feel the bus shift under us before it starts moving.

  All of a sudden, we’re headed off down the road, passing by buildings. A voice comes on over the speaker, announcing locations of note and historical facts I couldn’t care less about.

  “It’s the perfect way to see London. It’s touristy and a bit ridiculous. But it has its benefits.”

  He drapes his arm over the back of my chair, and I shiver as a rush of cool air hits my cheek.

  “There is privacy …”

  “Oh?” I reply, dazed.

  With his face this close to mine, the memory of our last kiss comes creeping into my mind. And suddenly, I forget that we’re on top of a tourist bus. I forget that we’re traveling through the city of London. I forget.

  “Mmhmm,” Harry whispers. “It has the benefit of getting you a little chilly. And being the gentleman that I am, I will have to keep you warm.” His fingers move from the back of the chair to around my shoulders as he scoots closer to me.

  “How gallant of you.” I smile, trying to tease him. But with his hand wrapped around my shoulders and his fingers gliding across my skin, I’m finding it hard to think straight.

  “I’m practically Prince Charming,” he says, looking out toward the city.

  I watch his face as he gazes at the buildings we pass, taking in the city. It’s a place that’s familiar to him. A place that is his home. Even though much of it is foreign to me, it doesn’t feel that way—at least not when I’m wrapped in Harry’s arms.

  “Wouldn’t Prince Charming have his own carriage to take a girl around town in?” I counter, trying to keep up with his banter.

  “Don’t worry, Mallory,” he replies, leaning in closer until I not only can hear his words, but also nearly feel them on my lips. “I have my own driver. I can get us into any restaurant, any club. But down there,” he says, motioning toward the street, “there are always eyes. Up here, we are free.”

  His lips press against mine. They’re warm and soft.

  And although I’m enjoying his kiss, I pull back.

  “Are you scared people will see us, Harry?”

  I can’t decide if I should be concerned or exhilarated. Because he’s right. Up here, no one knows us. No one cares. We are two teenagers seeing the sites that London has to offer. Down there, we would be judged. If anyone saw us kissing, it could get back to school. To Olivia, to Noah. If anyone saw us, it would create more drama. And as much as the thought of pissing Olivia off pleases me, I don’t really want that.

  “Not at all,” he replies, causing me to calm down. “I couldn’t give a shit what people think. I just figured you would enjoy it.” He looks sincere.

  “What makes you think I would enjoy it?” I ask, curious.

  “I can tell. You’re so collected. You always have the right words, a witty comeback.” He gives me a grin.

  “You love it,” I confirm. I do always have something to say. And my words always seem to bring a smile to his face.

  “I do,” he admits hesitantly, his eyes shifting to me and then out to our interlaced feet in front of us.

  “But?” I push, urging him to speak his mind.

  “But,” he starts, “you don’t always have to do that, Mallory. I think we can be honest with one another. That, here, you could let loose. No one’s watching us. There are no games. I love a good show just as much as you, but something real can be fun too.”

  I search his eyes, wondering if he thinks I’m fake. Wondering if he thinks that just because I told off his ex publicly, that I like the attention. A million thoughts run through my mind, none of them settling well in my stomach.

  “You’re surprised I said that?” Harry asks, placing his finger under my chin.

  “Of course I am.” I barely get the words out before a blush spreads across my cheeks. I’m not sure exactly what he meant, but when I look into his eyes, I don’t find any judgment. I only find warmth.

  “Good. I like keeping you on your toes. Besides, let’s just have some honest fun,” he says, pulling me closer and allowing his hand to do some wandering.

  If he wants to let loose, then I can too. I need to stop overanalyzing everything he says and just enjoy myself. Enjoy him.

  “Some honest fun, huh?” I comment back, ready to tease him a little. “Your hand is practically down my shirt, Harry.”

  He pulls his hands up, like he’s been busted, and then puts one arm around my waist.

  “I’m just a man, Mallory,” he says with a smirk. “Honestly, what else am I supposed to do when a gorgeous woman is sitting next to me?”

  And then, all of a sudden, his lips are on mine, and the Harry I know is back again. The Harry who is easygoing and witty. The one who doesn’t care what people think.

  And that point becomes obvious when he slips his fingers under my shirt, his hand grazing against my bra.

  I pull back, taking a deep breath in. “Harry,” I whisper.

  “I know,” he replies.

  He deepens our kiss, letting his tongue move into my mouth. With the chill in the air and his mouth on mine, goose bumps form on my skin. He laces his hands around my waist, pressing me tighter against his chest. I want to slide my fingers up underneath his coat, but I hold back, remembering we are seated on a bus. I feel his phone buzz in his pocket, vibrating against me. He ignores it, his lips still working against mine.

  “You’re popular,” I comment, the constant vibrations sending tingles up my leg.

  He grins, pulling back. “What can I say?” He shrugs, not pulling out his phone, instead leaning back in to kiss me.

  But then it vibrates again, causing us to both sigh simultaneously.

  “The ladies love you, huh?” I tease. “And someone is wondering where you are?” I admit that it makes me feel a little pang of jealousy, but I manage to keep my tone light.

  “They do,” he agrees, dramatically nodding his head. He gives me one more kiss and then grabs his phone from his pocket. He reads the texts coming across the screen, scanning from one line to the next. “But unfortunately, these messages aren’t from my admirers.”

  “No?” I push, wanting him to explain further.

  “Nope,” he replies, leaving me hanging. “If you haven’t realized yet, my former girlfriend is kind of a grade A bitch. Most of the girls in school are terrified of her. So, that leaves my options quite limited,” he admits.

  But I can tell, even with the lightness in his voice, he isn’t joking.

  “She really is,” I say because I can see the allure of Harry.

  He is spontaneous. Fun. And when he gives you attention, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. And for a moment, I feel bad for Olivia, knowing what she had and lost.

  I take a deep breath and focus my attention back to Harry. “Like you can’t find girls elsewhere.”

  “I can.” He brightens, a cocky grin on his face. “And I do. But,” he starts, the grin slipping away, “I don’t know. That’s what I like about you. You don’t care. You don’t give a shit about my past. About Olivia. Most girls don’t see me. They see my house, my family name, and, well, their eyes stop there.”

  I take in his body language, the absence of the grin, and realize, for once, he isn’t kidding. His eyes shift from mine and out to the city, as he seemingly doesn’t want to discuss the subject further, but I turn his face back toward me and meet his gaze.

  “You should never be made to feel that way,” I tell him, but he just shakes his head at me.

  “I’m a good time, Mallory. And that’s all that most people see.”

  “It’s not what I see,” I say softly.

  “No?” he questions.

  “No. I see a person
who is a great friend. Who loves to have fun. Someone who is caring. Who takes the new girl under his wing and is kind to her. I see someone who isn’t convinced by bullshit.”

  Harry opens his mouth, and I think he’s going to respond, but then he closes his lips, tightening them together. Instead of saying anything, he leans in and kisses me.

  It isn’t a passionate kiss. It is a kiss that makes me feel innocent. A kiss that makes me feel whole. His lips press into mine with a kind of conviction I haven’t felt from him before. Like my words seeped into him. And now, he is giving that back to me.

  “You’re kind of amazing,” he tells me, glancing out at the buildings we pass.

  I stare at his profile, understanding how important the moment we just had was. Harry let me in. And I get the feeling that isn’t something he allows often.

  He laces his fingers through mine, pulling me up as we stop for a red light. “Come on. We’re getting off at the next stop.”

  A few minutes later, we’re standing in front of Buckingham Palace.

  “When I visited London before, my mother made sure we got to see the Changing of the Guard,” I tell him.

  But Harry doesn’t seem that interested in the view. He leads me into a nearby souvenir shop, grabbing a basket and quickly filling it with a crown, two British flags, a pair of sunglasses, and some other touristy items before moving into the checkout line.

  “Why are you buying all of this stuff?” I inquire.

  “I’m getting you prepared. We have to have supplies if you’re going to have the true London tourist experience,” he says, pulling out a large bill and taking the bag off the counter.

  “You do realize I’ve visited London before, right?”

  Harry just chuckles and pulls me out of the shop.

  “All right,” he says, throwing on red sunglasses framed with the British flag and then placing an ornate crown on my head. Next, he puts a large I ❤️London sticker on his jacket, flags in his blazer pocket, and then tosses a red-white-and-blue boa around my neck.

  “You look ridiculous.” I laugh.

  “And you are still missing something.” He digs in the bag, pulling out the stickers with the Queen’s face and putting one on each of my cheeks.

  He steps back and crosses his arms, looking over his outrageous handiwork.

  People walking past us are staring, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, I think he just loves the attention.

  He asks the guy next to us to take our picture.

  “A photo to document the day,” he says with a wink, walking back toward me with a grin.

  And despite the glasses and flags, he looks so handsome. He wraps his arm around my waist, posing for the photo, but my crown starts to fall just as the phone’s camera flashes.

  “Thanks, mate,” Harry says to the man who took our photo, getting his phone back and bringing it to me.

  I look down at it and see that I’m adjusting my crown and looking up at Harry, who is practically glowing.

  “What a photo,” he says with a grin.

  “We do look ridiculous,” I say, laughing. “Text me the photo. I love it.”

  “Oh,” he coos. “Seems like someone is trying to get ahold of my phone number.”

  By his smirk and the fact that he immediately hands me his phone so I can add in my information, I know that he’s teasing me.

  I roll my eyes at him and hand him his phone back. He pushes it into his pocket. Then, he takes my hand again, and we meander our way through the crowd.

  At one point, Harry stops next to a little girl, squatting down to her level. “Hi, my name’s Harry. Would you like a flag?”

  She looks at her dad, wondering if it’s okay. Her dad gives her a little nod and a smile, so she shyly takes the flag Harry has extended.

  “And a princess crown too?” he asks.

  Her eyes glow, and now, she’s nodding her head. I can’t help but giggle over her sudden enthusiasm. I hand Harry the crown, letting him place it onto her head.

  “What do you say?” her dad asks, smiling down at her.

  She blushes. “Thank you,” she whispers, her small fingers moving up to the crown.

  Harry gives her a wide grin before standing back up and taking my hand again.

  “That was sweet of you,” I comment, watching the little girl look at us as we walk away.

  But Harry just shrugs and leads me to a taxi line. “Let’s go back to my house.”

  I let out an uneasy laugh. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I reply as his lips press against my cheek. They only stay there for a moment, but the heat remains even after his lips are gone. And he has my whole body tingling.

  “Mallory,” he says, pulling back. “I promise my intentions are pure.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I tease as we move farther up the line.

  My eyes connect with his crystal-blue ones. He absentmindedly pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. Harry is charming and sweet. And the thought of being alone in his house with him sends butterflies through my stomach.

  “Of course not.” He grins, wrapping his arm around my waist. He leans in closer to me, whispering into my ear, “If I had my way, I would already have you in my bed.”

  My eyes go wide at his bluntness, and I look around, wondering if anyone else can see the blush on my cheeks. Because I feel like I’m radiating warmth.

  “But I promise to restrain myself,” he finishes.

  When a cab pulls up, he opens the door for me then runs to the other side to let himself in.

  I spend most of the ride looking out the window, trying to decide which house will finally be Harry’s.

  We turn onto a street that makes the Williams’ look understated. There are large columns on the exterior of each home, and expensive cars are parked in front. My family lives in a lovely townhome in New York City. But when Harry turns the key in the lock, opening up his private world to me, I almost gasp because it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.

  I walk into the foyer and try not to gawk. There is a white-and-black marble floor with a grand iron staircase rising up to the left.

  Everything is opulent and overdone.

  “Welcome to my fair home—or prison.” Harry smirks, throwing his keys onto a table.

  “A beautiful prison,” I comment, peeking my head into an adjoining room filled with stiff-looking couches and priceless sculptures.

  “Yes, beauty is everything,” he replies before pushing me back against the front door.

  He gives me a deep kiss, dragging his hands up my sides. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my fingers on his shoulders. His lips feel good.

  “Mmhmm.” He smiles, pulling away. “Come.”

  “Harry,” I start to say, suddenly feeling exhausted. It’s been a long day, from school to our tourist explorations. “Where are you taking me now?”

  He doesn’t respond, just leads me through the house and up two flights of stairs before pushing open a set of doors.

  “Lads,” he says.

  Two boys come into view—Noah and Mohammad, who are still in their uniforms, like me. Harry is too, but with the addition of a camel Burberry coat, his white collar popping out, and his tie loosened, he looks both rich and disheveled. As though you would never really know whether he is coming or going. His personality and presence both seem to give the effect that Harry can do whatever he wants whenever he wants.

  And that he always does.

  “Come here,” Harry says, kissing Mohammad on the cheek before grabbing a bottle of liquor out of his hand. He takes a swig and then pulls off his coat.

  I walk into the room, my gaze meeting Noah’s. His thick hair is falling into his eyes, and for a moment, I think he might push it back. Instead, he leans down over the billiards table, focusing on a ball. His fingers slide against the cue stick, the noise echoing in my ears as he takes his shot.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Noah says, glancing up at Harry.

  “Don’
t be too upset with me.” Harry grins at Noah, his eyes glistening. “I was out, showing Mallory a nice time.”

  “And blowing off your friends,” Noah says under his breath.

  I almost take a step back at his comment.

  “You’re right; you’re right,” Harry concedes, putting his hands up into the air. “But I see the party has already started without me.” He motions to the open liquor bottle. “I think, if anything, I should be rather offended.”

  Harry tilts his head to the side, practically pouting at Noah. And I see the moment that Noah finally caves. His face softens, and he gives his friend a halfhearted smile before brushing past me to grab the bottle, taking a swig himself.

  And that surprises me.

  Noah isn’t someone I imagined as a drinker. But, apparently, I was wrong because he takes a huge gulp.

  “Hey, Mallory,” Mohammad says.

  I take in his easy energy and chill out a little. With the tension between Harry and Noah settled, I feel better.

  “Hey,” I say back. “What are you guys up to?”

  I look past Mohammad to Harry, who grabs the cue stick from Noah and makes a terrible shot—sending the ball flying from one end to the other, just to bounce back again.

  “Just hanging around. No one tends to be here, so most of the time, it’s where we end up,” he replies.

  “Away from prying eyes,” I say in understanding.

  Mohammad’s smile turns into a grin. “Exactly. It’s sort of our own boys’ club, if you will.”

  I take in the whole of the room and realize that it really is. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were at a posh gentlemen’s club.

  “I like it,” I say.

  “Anyway, now that you’re here,” Mohammad says, turning and directing his attention to Harry, “what are you thinking about for Wednesday night?”

  “We definitely need to get a few drinks in here before we go,” Harry replies, taking another swig from the bottle.

  He extends it out toward me, but I shake my head at him, declining. It’s not that a drink doesn’t sound nice, but the thought of going back to the Williams’ house with alcohol on my breath after school has me a little nervous. I catch Noah’s eyes, and he looks at me, perplexed, before dropping his gaze.