“What am I supposed to do?” he asks, bringing his fingers under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Feel sorry for myself? Dissect my past? My choices? Someone else’s intentions? That’s not me, Mallory. It happened, and it’s done.”
I instantly flush, feeling bad that I brought up something so personal. Maybe Noah was right; blowing it off is his way of leaving it in the past.
“And how do you feel about sex now?” I ask, finally meeting his eyes. I bite my lip, not sure what he’s going to say.
“It’s fun,” he says, raising his eyebrows at me before pressing his lips to mine.
I pull back, not wanting to deal with his cocky attitude right now. I frown, not sure what to do. Because he isn’t taking me seriously.
“Mallory,” he says, his face softening, “I was kidding.”
“Well, can you be serious for just a minute?” I say with frustration.
Harry loosens his hold on me, bringing his hands up my arms until he’s cupping my cheeks in his hands. “What has you so freaked out?”
“I like you, Harry.” I look away, not able to face him. “And I’m a virgin. There, I said it. And I’m spending the night. And I don’t want that to change because I’m spending the night—the first part, I mean. You see what I’m saying?”
“Shit,” Harry says, dropping his hand and running it across the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t think of it like that.”
“You didn’t?” I take a step back. Because does it mean he hasn’t thought of me in that way? Or he thought that we could have sex and it wouldn’t mean anything?
“Let me start over. Of course I want more with you, Mallory. I like you. And you being in my bed tonight was just supposed to be a perk after a fun night together.”
“A perk?” I almost yell back, my mind racing, trying to determine if he’s saying that sex with me would just be the icing on the cake after a good night. Because sex should be the main event, not the after-party.
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head, frustrated. I can tell he is struggling to find his words. “I want to go out with you and have fun tonight.” He holds my hand. “Dance with you, kiss you, drink with our friends. The idea of having you in my bed is nice, but I didn’t think we would, or had to do, anything. I was just excited to sleep with you. Cuddle.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And if you’re not okay with that, I’ll sleep on the couch. You don’t need to feel any pressure.”
I gaze at him in admiration. Because his words mean a lot. And I appreciate him not making me feel uncomfortable talking about it.
“I won’t lie,” he says, taking a step forward. “I want you to want to do things with me. But at our own pace. Nothing is normal or set, right or wrong.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Really,” he replies, holding my gaze, and I can tell he is sincere.
“Thank you, Harry,” I say, pulling him into a hug and finding comfort in his arms.
“It isn’t anything to thank me for, babe. I just want to have a good time.” He smiles, pulling back.
“That, I know.” I grin back, feeling so much better.
“So, let’s go back to the whole being with other people thing. It made you pretty jealous, huh?” He is practically beaming.
“It made me pissed,” I correct.
Harry lets out an easy laugh. “Well, you know, I do like it a little rough,” he teases, leaning in closer until his arms are wrapped around me. His fingers slide down my back before giving me a little slap on the ass.
“Harry,” I gasp, smacking at his chest. But I end up just running my fingers over it, and then I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him down to my lips.
His lips are warm and soft, and there is a lightness to our kiss, but when his tongue slips into my mouth and his hands slide down my ass, I start heating up.
Harry pulls back, his white smile coming into view. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”
He takes my hand, pulling me out of his room and back into the boys’ club.
Mohammad is still lazily splayed out on the couch, but this time, a bottle is in his hand. Noah’s back is to us, and they have chill music flowing through the room. I walk over to Mohammad and climb onto the couch over him, so my legs are lying atop his at almost a ninety-degree angle.
“Can I have some?” I ask, holding my hand out.
He gives me the rum. I bring it to my lips, letting it burn as I swallow.
“There’s my girl, getting freaky.” Harry laughs, apparently approving of my swig of alcohol.
I grin at him, taking another sip before passing the rum back to Mohammad.
“Reminds me of the first night we met,” he says, reminiscing. “I still can’t believe you were drinking a pint of cider though.” Harry wrinkles his nose at the thought.
Mohammad must agree because he scrunches up his nose at me.
Noah, on the other hand, glares at me.
“You were drinking?” he says, his mouth falling open. He firmly crosses his arms across his broad chest, acting like a parent or something.
I press my lips together, part of me wanting to smile at the fact that I just got busted, the other half knowing I’m going to be in trouble with him. He just has that I’m about to lecture you look.
“I’m not sure I would call drinking cider drinking,” Harry says, squatting down in front of one of the liquor cabinets. He shuffles through it, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.
“I was stressed,” I say, defending myself.
Noah walks toward the couch, his arms still crossed. “Really?” he questions, obviously not believing me.
“Yes,” I say, nodding my head. “Being a girl is stressful.”
Mohammad hands me back the bottle, and I take a gulp this time.
“I’m sure it is,” Noah says, taking a seat on the couch opposite us, his eyes narrowing in on me. “I mean, with all that packing and first-class travel. Getting to come to London. I have no doubt you were sitting there beside yourself while I,” he emphasizes, “was carrying your cases up the fucking stairs.” He’s practically growling at me now.
I lean back into the couch, trying to hide from his assault. The alcohol must be working though because, now, I just find his anger kind of funny and have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“For fuck’s sake, Noah, stop being a little bitch,” Harry says, taking a seat next to him. He pulls Noah into a hug, ruffling his hair with his hand.
Noah huffs at him but grabs the bottle from Harry’s hand, taking his own swig.
“What do you say, you lads up for a game?” Harry grins, eyeing the pool table.
Mohammad is the first one up, handing me the bottle of rum.
“Definitely,” Noah agrees, but he doesn’t get up.
Harry stands, handing him the bottle of whiskey, and goes over to the pool table, setting up the balls.
“I’m going to sit this one out,” I say, now staring directly at Noah.
“Come on. You’ve got to play,” Mohammad whines.
“You just don’t want to be the loser,” Harry comments, smirking at him.
“I just think if she’s going to be part of the boys’ club, she has to partake in all of the events,” Mohammad states.
Noah is still sitting across from me, glaring. He raises the whiskey to his lips, taking another drink, and I do the same, matching him with the rum. This sip has a bit more of a bite to it, and I make a face, not enjoying the taste.
Noah’s lip pulls at the corner as I wrinkle my nose, and I swear, I see his eyes sparkle.
“Come on, Mal,” Noah taunts, getting up off the couch, looking down at me. “Mohammad’s right. If you want to hang, you’ve got to partake.”
“Thought I already was,” I say with a little more sass than usual, holding up the rum bottle.
I get up off the couch, sick of Noah’s grin, and make my way to the table.
“Come on,” Harry says as I grab a stick. “Le
t’s see what you’ve got.”
“I didn’t think it was possible to be so bad at billiards.” Harry laughs, his eyes sparkling at me.
“At least I tried,” I say, laughing with him.
Because he’s right; I was terrible.
But the benefit was, I got lessons from Harry.
He had his hand on my back, his fingers laced around mine, while Mohammad would tell me where to aim, talking me through which ball to focus on.
“Don’t worry. With the right coaching, you’ll get better in no time,” Mohammad adds, taking another swig of rum.
Somehow, he went from the worst one to my teacher, and I think he’s more concerned with his role in helping me get better than focusing on the fact that he’s terrible too.
I try to steal the rum from him, but he holds it up over his head. I give it my best jump, but Mohammad’s too tall.
“Cheater.” I pout, pushing out my bottom lip.
Mohammad grins at me, taking another sip but keeping the bottle.
“Here,” Noah says, handing me the whiskey.
I appreciatively take it from him.
“I need to go change,” I say, suddenly realizing I’m still in my casual clothes.
I look over at Mohammad, noticing that he isn’t that dressed up. He has on jeans, like Noah, and a hunter-green polo. The shirt brings out the warmth of his skin though, and he’s almost glowing.
“So do I,” Harry says, putting his hand on the small of my back, leading me to his room. But instead of getting dressed, he throws me on his bed, climbing on top of me. He pins my hands above my head, peppering kisses across my lips and jaw.
“Harry.” I giggle as his lips trail across my collarbone.
“Hmm?” he asks, continuing.
“We need to get ready,” I whisper, closing my eyes at the sensation.
“Fine,” he moans, sliding off me and pulling me up onto my feet.
The quick change of direction makes me stumble, but Harry steadies me.
I bite my lip, grabbing my dress and accessories from the bag before going into his bathroom. I check my makeup, adding a little more eye shadow. I change out of my clothes then pull the party dress over my head.
The dress has a deep V in the front that’s matched in the back, and it cinches in tight at the waist before flowing halfway down my thighs. The skirt is fringed with a ton of movement, and the short sleeves have the same fringed pieces hanging down, dancing at my shoulders. The dark blue color contrasts against my skin, and I add a simple silver necklace that drops all the way down into my cleavage. I thought about doing a choker, but I want to look as long as possible. I brought a pair of silver heels, deciding I needed to add a little something special to keep it from being too dark.
I turn to the side, taking in my reflection. I always wear my hair down, straight at my shoulders, so I pull it back into a pony, wanting to look mature and put together.
Because if I look it, I feel it.
I put on my shoes and apply a little lipstick before zipping up my dress. The top of the zipper hits my lower back, exposing the skin above it, and I hook it into place.
When I walk out of the bathroom, Harry is standing in front of his dresser, pulling a light-blue polo over his head.
“I like that color.”
Harry turns around at the sound my voice.
He starts walking toward me, his eyes running down my body with each step.
“You look hot,” he whispers, his hands coming up to my shoulders and sliding down my bare arms.
“Thank you.” I smile at him.
He looks down, openly appreciating the deep V of the dress. When he looks back up at me, those clear blue eyes seem a little clouded over with lust, and it sends my heart racing.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing on to his arm.
“Banging dress,” Mohammad says, taking in my outfit.
“Mohammad, come do a shot with me,” Harry demands, and within a second, Mohammad is at his side, pouring each what looks like more than one shot.
Noah doesn’t go with them. Instead, he’s staring at me. He sucks in his cheeks, and he stands a bit straighter, his eyes locking with mine before painfully making their way down to my chest, hovering for a few seconds before dropping even lower. By the time his eyes get all the way down to my legs and come back up again, I feel like I’m practically holding my breath. Because it’s like I can feel his eyes on my skin, and I know every single part that he’s focusing in on.
A flush spreads to my cheeks. Because Noah is definitely checking me out, and there is absolutely no mistaking it. He parts his lips, and I wonder if he is going to say anything to me. Tell me that I look nice. Or say something, anything. But he doesn’t. He closes his lips, breaking my gaze.
“We need to make a toast before we go,” Mohammad says, bringing us into a circle.
“What are we toasting to?” I ask.
Harry grins, and I know he has something to say. “To getting pissed,” he yells out.
“To short skirts and tight dresses,” Mohammad follows, giving me a quick wink.
“To dancing.” I grin at them, trying to keep my mind on the fun ahead.
We all look to Noah, waiting for him to add the final toast. His face is expressionless, and I can’t tell at all what he’s thinking.
“To the best fucking mates,” he says, looking directly at me.
I’m not sure if he’s including me in that category or making a statement, but then he turns to Harry and Mohammad, his eyes sparkling. He raises his glass, and then we all do, clinking them together before downing our shots.
By the time we get to the party, we’re all feeling pretty buzzed. Mohammad and Harry made us stop to get falafel and chips on the way because, apparently, none of us had eaten dinner tonight, and they were starving. Though it’s probably a good thing because I saw Harry slip two flasks into his jacket pocket.
“Those are the worst lines I’ve ever heard.” Noah laughs, commenting on Mohammad’s pick-up lines. He spent the entire ride describing how, with the exact words, he planned to pick up a girl tonight. It sent all of us into a fit of giggles, except for Mohammad, of course, who thinks they’re awesome.
“I think you’re better off just smiling at them and then asking them to dance,” I admit, not believing they will do him any good.
“That would only work with girls who don’t know him,” Noah adds, teasing.
“Please.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Our boy has more game than any of us.” Harry throws his arm over Mohammad’s shoulder. “Shit, more than all of us combined.”
Mohammad totally eats it up. “I’m like a tiger, ready to go out to hunt,” he says as we work our way into the party.
I take in the space. There is a huge dance floor in the center, directly in front of a DJ booth and surrounded by intimate seating areas. The majority of people are out on the dance floor, multicolored lights flashing from every corner.
The place is pumping, even more than I expected.
Honestly, I figured it would be lame. After all, renting out a club for a birthday? Isn’t the point to go to the club, so you have people to dance with? You take someone old enough to buy your drinks, or like what my friends do, you bring out your fakes.
But not here. Because there are tons of people dancing.
Groups of people are spread out on the sofas, talking and laughing.
“For Kensington School not being that big, there are a lot of people here,” I comment to Mohammad.
“There are a few other established schools in London. Naomi switched from an all-girls primary school to secondary here, I think. But it ends up being a small circle,” Mohammad comments. “Sports and all that too,” he adds.
“Gotcha.”
But it can’t be too small of a circle because there are probably over a hundred people here. I turn to Harry. He is already nodding his head to the music, looking out at the dance floor. Noah is surveying the crowd, not looking as excited.
“I’m going to go find Naomi,” I tell them.
Noah nods at me, but Harry looks momentarily confused. I hold up the box of chocolates.
“I’m still not sure why you brought a gift,” Harry says.
I ignore his comment and search through the crowd on the dance floor. People turn to look at me, a few sets of eyes I recognize from classes. There are some cute—like, really cute—guys here who must be from other schools.
I get a couple head nods and a few smiles, but I try to stay focused until I spot her.
“Hey, Naomi,” I say, cutting into the crowd of people around her. I don’t know anyone else she’s talking to, so I look directly at her, hoping I don’t have to introduce myself to any of them.
“Mallory,” she says, raising her voice a little. And I’m not sure if it’s from excitement or surprise. She gives a nod to the circle around her before taking my elbow, leading me off the center of the dance floor.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I start. “But I wanted to say thank you again for inviting me. And happy birthday.” I hand her the box of chocolates Noah and I stopped to get before we went to Harry’s.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes going wide. She looks from the box and up to me, her face softening. “Thank you,” she replies, holding on to the chocolates like they’re the most precious thing in the world. “I think you’re the only person to give me a gift,” she admits, a small blush forming on her cheeks.
“What? Really?”
“Of course, all of our family friends had things sent to the house. Half the kids at school and their families all wanted to wish me a special day. But I think this is the first hand-delivered gift.”
I’m a little taken aback and not sure what to say.
“Thank you.” She smiles.
I nod, smiling back at her. “I know things are a little, uh, messy, with Olivia. I know that I didn’t help that situation when I got here. And I know—well, think—she’s one of your best friends. But I hope that doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends too.”
Naomi looks around, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she turns her head. She looks beautiful tonight. Her eyes have a soft shadowing around them, and her pink lips have an extra layer of sheen. She isn’t dressed like the other girls. She has on a pink-and-gold glittery dress. It’s sweet but sexy at the same time. When her eyes finally stop moving, I follow her gaze and find Olivia, who is watching us, her arms crossed over her chest.
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