London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Stop,” he says, pushing the hair back off my face, bringing my chin up in his palm. “I need to apologize for that.”

  “Why?” I cry out, frustrated.

  Because he’s always apologizing. He’s always being mean and moody.

  “Because I know Harry was having trouble with her before. I thought he just wanted to mess with her. But he cares for you. And when you left just now, I really saw that. Even though Olivia was a bitch tonight, seeing you upset got to him way more.”

  “Then, why isn’t he in here, telling me that himself?” I ask.

  Noah runs his hands over my shoulders, trying to calm me down. “I wanted to talk to you first. Because I owed you another apology. And I wanted to tell you that Harry cares.”

  I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. There’s something about Noah. He’s always the hardest on me, but his comfort means the most. And having him apologize means a lot to me. I let myself cry in his arms. He allows it for a few moments.

  “I think you should let him talk to you,” Noah says, putting his hands on my shoulders.

  I nod at him. We both leave the stall, and I move in front of the mirror, wiping at my makeup.

  “What are these tears for?” Harry asks, joining me in the restroom. “You’re too beautiful to be crying at the club.” He lowers his voice. “I was inconsiderate.”

  “And I was being overly sensitive.”

  He moves between my legs, placing his hands onto my waist, pressing a kiss onto my lips. “I’m sorry she slagged you off. And that I didn’t say anything.” Harry looks down, lacing his hands through mine.

  “Harry, you act differently with me when we’re alone. When we are at lunch, at the club, you treat me like I’m one of the guys.”

  “Well, you are officially part of the boys’ club,” he comments, trying to smile.

  “I don’t want to just be one of the boys,” I push, trying to make him understand.

  “I didn’t want to make it worse by defending you, but that was wrong of me. I just didn’t handle it right. Any of it.”

  I nod at him, agreeing.

  “I don’t like seeing you upset,” he admits, kissing me again. And this time, instead of just hearing his words, I can feel them. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I smile at him, pushing off the counter.

  We find Noah standing at the door, waiting for us. He doesn’t smile when we come out together, but he looks relieved.

  “Where to then?” he asks, wrapping his arm around Harry’s neck, a grin forming on his lips.

  “I know exactly the place,” Harry replies.

  Twenty minutes later, and we’ve moved from the birthday party to an actual club, and the three of us have managed to finish the flask. When Harry flashes some cash at the doorman and we skip the line, I half-expect Harry to have his own private section, but he surprises me when he drags both Noah and me into the center of the crowed dance floor.

  Everyone is grinding up against one another, and it’s hard to tell where one body stops and another starts. Harry wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me up against his chest. We sway to the music for a bit, but a few moments later, Harry spins me around, sending me flying into Noah. Noah was dancing alongside another couple, but his hands come to my waist, his strong chest steadying me.

  “Dance,” Harry shouts at us, grinning.

  Noah does as he’s told, but stays put so that my back is pressed against his chest. His hands are running up my sides, and I can feel his hard body pushing against mine.

  I bring my hand up, lacing it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

  Then I can really feel him.

  All. Of. Him.

  I flush, my eyes flying open. I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re dancing, and I can’t help but wonder if Harry’s watching. But when I spot him, he’s dancing next to some random girl. He has both his hands in front of his chest, and he’s swaying from side to side, his eyes barely open. Something about the way Harry parties leaves me wondering if he really just likes to be alone.

  He never fully connected with me on the dance floor. He never made me feel like it’s only the two of us. He makes me feel happy. And joyful.

  But one second, he’s dancing with me, and the next, he’s dancing with someone else.

  He’s off, getting a drink, and then back again.

  And he seems happy and content the whole time.

  Noah’s hands slide down to my hips.

  “Noah,” I say, turning around to face the presence behind me.

  I search his eyes, knowing that the way I’m enjoying the feel of his hands on me is wrong.

  He looks down at me, breathing heavily, and I think it might have him a little confused too.

  We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, not moving.

  But then the song changes and Harry wraps his arm around my shoulder and yells, “Jump!”

  I turn to see him grinning from ear to ear, completely in his element.

  Noah stares at me for a beat and then we jump.

  The three of us dance together in the middle of a sea of people.

  I let my body go. Let it move the way it wants.

  I let go of what Olivia said.

  And forget it all.

  I think we all do.

  A full English breakfast.

  1am

  “Come on,” Harry pleads, walking into his house. “You aren’t going to make me beg, are you?”

  “Yes,” I reply, giggling at him. “If you want a home-cooked meal at this hour, you’re going to have to get down onto your knees and beg.”

  Noah slams the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the oversize entryway. The force sends him a little off-balance, but he recovers quickly, sitting down into a chair pushed against the wall.

  “If you insist,” Harry replies, dropping onto his knees. He pulls off his jacket, throwing it onto the floor beside him, and takes my hands into his. He holds on to them, looking up at me through blond lashes. He’s attempting to pout, but it isn’t exactly working because he’s wearing a goofy smile, which sends me into a fit of giggles.

  “I can’t believe she has you on your knees.” Noah laughs, watching the scene unfold in front of him as he unlaces his shoes.

  “I’m not sure,” I tease, putting my hands onto my hips. I want to give in immediately, but I also want him to suffer a little.

  “Mallory,” Harry pleads, his eyes going wide.

  He looks like a pathetic puppy, and I instantly react, my hands moving into his hair.

  “Hmm—” I barely get out, but Harry cuts me off.

  “Do you hear this, Noah? She won’t give in to me,” he says, pretending to be shocked and hurt.

  “Well,” Noah replies, getting off his other shoe, “if she won’t get into the kitchen herself, then—”

  “Then, what?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him, but he isn’t looking at me.

  His eyes are connected to Harry’s. I turn to Harry, but suddenly, Noah is standing beside me and picking me up.

  “Then, she’ll have to be taken into the kitchen,” Harry shouts, getting up off the floor as Noah throws me over his shoulder.

  His hands are wrapped around my legs, and I’m practically dangling over him, facing his butt.

  “Noah!” I scream, slapping his back. “Put me down, right this instant.”

  “Nope,” he replies as though my words—or hands—have no effect on him.

  “I can’t believe you two,” I say as Noah squats down, putting me back on my feet. And the change in direction leaves me feeling off-balanced.

  “Shit,” Noah says, grabbing on to me before I fall over.

  “Thanks,” I reply, holding on to his arm until I feel steady again.

  “That’s what happens when you make a poor bastard beg and then don’t give in to his wishes.” Harry grins.

  “You’re such a dick,” I say, shaking my head at him. But I
can’t stop smiling either. “So, what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking about a full English breakfast—sausage, eggs, and baked beans with some warm tomatoes,” Harry says, and I can practically see his mouth watering.

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. How about eggs and toast?”

  “Eggs and toast it is!” Harry declares.

  We make a huge pile of toast, taking a tray of it with eggs up to Harry’s room. We bring jams and butter, sliding it on each piece before topping it with the scrambled eggs.

  Noah’s on one side of me in bed while Harry is on the other, the tray resting in my lap. We all lean our heads back, sharing a bottle of water, crunching into our toast.

  “What a night,” Noah says, looking like he might fall asleep mid-chew.

  Harry takes a loud and messy bite. I watch crumbs fall down onto his shirt and want to laugh, but I can’t bring myself to spend the energy.

  I can barely keep my eyes open.

  “What a fucking night,” Harry agrees.

  Thursday, September 26th

  Wanted you in my bed.

  Too early

  “Fuck,” Harry says, waking me.

  I roll over, feeling something crunch under me as an alarm goes off in the distance. I ignore it, not wanting to do anything other than go back to sleep.

  “Turn it off,” I mumble, trying to bury myself under the covers. I pull the comforter up farther, aching to drown out the noise. It isn’t loud, but it’s consistent.

  And annoying.

  And my head is pounding.

  It’s like that Chinese water torture, where water is dripped onto your scalp and you can’t stop it. On its own, it shouldn’t bother you, but the fact that you can’t change it and you know that it’s coming drives you crazy.

  “It’s not mine,” Harry mumbles, wrapping his arms around me.

  “Morning,” I say, nuzzling his neck.

  He pulls me against him and runs his hands across my back, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. My lips find their way to his chest.

  “Good morning,” he sighs, his fingers gliding from my back down to my waist.

  I’m comfortable and warm, and I don’t want to move. Other than to trail kisses up his neck, finally landing on his lips.

  “Mmhmm. I could get used to this,” he mumbles then kisses me with intent.

  “You like waking up with me?” I tease, pressing my lips against his and allowing my fingers to drift from his shoulders up into his soft hair.

  “I told you, I’ve always wanted you in my bed.”

  His hands move down my sides, and then he rolls on top of me.

  His whole body is pressed tightly against mine. I can’t help but grind into him.

  “Shit,” he moans.

  He dips his tongue into my mouth before sliding his hand up under my shirt. His palm rubs across my bare skin.

  All I can think about right now is taking off his shirt. To be pressed up against his chest, with nothing in our way.

  “Your skin’s so soft,” he whispers, running his finger up from my belly button to my collarbone and then back down again.

  I flush at his words, my skin coming alive. I easily push him off me. He falls onto his back, getting tangled in the sheets in the process.

  “It’s too hot under here.” I whip the sheet off of us, my warm body needing the fresh air.

  “I agree,” Harry says. He sounds willing to agree to just about anything right now. His hands move down my back, grabbing at my butt, bringing me flush with him.

  I feel like every part of me might explode when he kisses me again. Things are starting to get pretty heated, so I pull back and look at Harry, finding his blue eyes clouded with want.

  The desire I see makes my head feel foggy.

  I move to sit on his lap and then bring my hands down to my sides, grabbing at the edge of my T-shirt.

  Harry leans back on his elbows, giving me his full attention. It sends a tingle of exhilaration through me.

  Because Harry is staring at me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

  Which is what I wanted. I pull my shirt over my head, fully exposing my chest to him.

  “Jesus, Mallory,” he says, sucking in a breath, before bringing me to his lips. His hands are all over me, moving across my chest, lacing around my waist.

  “You normally have something to say.” I smile, parting my lips from his.

  “I think you have me speechless this morning,” he says, staring at my chest.

  I feel a flush rising, but I push it down, wanting him to see me. Wanting to share this moment with him.

  Harry brings his hand up to my face, running his soft fingers against my cheek.

  “Oh fuck.” I hear a voice come from the door and instantly whip my head around.

  Noah is standing there in his pajamas, his hair a sleepy mess, holding two cups of coffee and looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Turn around!” I yell at him, and he instantly spins.

  I can see his shoulders rising and falling, his breathing matching my own.

  Even though I know he only saw my back, I still feel completely naked. I grab at the T-shirt, pulling it on over my head while sliding off of Harry.

  Fuck. I’m absolutely mortified.

  Because it looks bad.

  I was practically naked on top of Harry!

  I guess it’s not that it’s really a bad thing; it’s just private. And, more than likely, Noah saw at least some side boob and it has me freaking out.

  “Morning,” Harry greets Noah.

  I want to burrow myself into the bed, due to embarrassment, but Harry doesn’t seem the least bit upset. Honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t outraged. He was jealous that I rubbed Noah’s back. Yet here we are, me lying half-naked on top of him and he doesn’t seem to care that Noah saw?!

  Freaking boys.

  “Morning,” Noah replies, clearing his throat, his back still to us.

  “You can turn around.” I pull the covers up to my face, still feeling the need to hide.

  Harry laughs at me, giving my knee a squeeze before scooting into the center of the bed. Something crunches under him, the same noise from before, and he pulls out a piece of burned toast. I remember us all eating in Harry’s bed the night before, but other parts of the night seem blurry.

  “We’re a bit of a mess this morning, aren’t we?” Harry laughs, holding up the toast.

  Noah takes three long strides toward the bed and then sits down on the edge, like if he came any closer, he might get burned.

  “Brought coffee,” he tells us, clearing his throat again, handing me the first cup and then Harry the second.

  “Well, fuck me, you think of everything, don’t you?” Harry grins, pulling Noah into a hug. He messes up his hair even more than it already is, and Noah laughs along with him.

  “Thanks,” I say, sitting up more.

  The warmth of the coffee cup in my hand feels nice. With my mind not totally scrambled from Harry’s kisses, my headache is back, and I lean my head against the oversize headboard, wishing I could just go back to sleep.

  “Get your ass up here,” Harry says to Noah, patting the bed beside him.

  I peek my eye open, hesitantly looking at Noah. Harry scoots even closer to me, resting his free hand on my thigh.

  “We’ve got to get to school,” Noah says, propping his feet up in bed. He leans his head back, turning to look at us.

  It’s the first time I dare to look him in the eye. There’s a tinge of blush on his cheeks, and I wonder if it’s from being hungover or embarrassment. He’s looking at me, tilting his head to the side, his eyes shifting to my hair.

  My hand automatically pats it down. I must look like a wreck.

  “Yeah,” Harry says, taking a sip of his coffee, “that’s definitely a no for me.”

  “Harry?” I say, surprised. “We can’t just skip.”

  “We definitely can,” he counters. “I’m tired.”
<
br />   “You know we can’t,” Noah disagrees, looking at me seriously. “Mum would have our heads, and you know the school will call yours as well,” he says the last part to Harry.

  “There are worse things than disappointing my parents. I think they’ve started to just expect it from me. It almost takes the fun out of it.”

  “All right,” Noah says, not wanting to argue.

  I want to tell Harry no, that he should come to class, but honestly, I really don’t want to go either. And if I knew that the school wouldn’t call Helen, I would skip too.

  “You might want to shower,” Noah tells me.

  My face pales at his comment. Do I look bad?

  “Why?” I stutter out.

  “I, uh … you’ve maybe got some jam in your hair.” Noah says.

  “Shit.” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to find it, but then Harry’s hand is under my chin.

  “It is jam.” He laughs, his fingers pulling on a strand of hair.

  I swat his hand away, covering my face, feeling mortified yet again. Pull it together, Mallory.

  “How long do we have?” I peek through my fingers at Noah. “I’ll be quick.”

  “Maybe twenty,” he tells me, running his hands down over his face, and looking a little nauseous. I can tell he’s not feeling the best either.

  I throw back the covers and get out of bed. Both Noah and Harry stay put, and when I get into the shower, not only do I wash my hair, but I also try to wash the past five minutes from my memory.

  Not talk about that, like, ever.

  7:40am

  Harry kisses me good-bye at the door while Noah hails us a taxi. The entire ride is silent and awkward. I rest my head against the window, and Noah has his arm propped up, the side of his head resting in his hand.

  “Can we please just not talk about that, like, ever?” I ask, slamming the door when we get to school.

  “That sounds great actually,” Noah breathes out, and he sounds as relieved as I am.

  “Because, honestly, it was pretty embarrassing. And we had such a fun time last night—well, by the end of the night anyway. I just don’t want any awkwardness to ruin that.” I search his face, hoping he agrees with me.