London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Hey,” I greet as she sits down in the grass next to me.

  She looks out onto the field, her eyes flicking from one boy to the next. “Well, I guess there could be worse things than handing out water to a bunch of cute players.”

  “Do you enjoy sports?” I ask her.

  “Only the outfits,” she replies, her gaze meeting mine. There’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and it makes me smile.

  “Football boys do have nice bodies,” I admit, taking in the players on the field. I think their lean muscles mixed with good footwork and agility does something to a girl.

  Olivia and I sit silently until Coach comes up to us.

  “All right, girls, if you wouldn’t mind, go ahead and start filling up a few cups with water. I’m sure the boys will be grateful after warm-ups.”

  We both nod, doing as we were told.

  Once the game starts, Olivia and I aren’t kept too busy. More like, not busy at all. We pour water from the cooler into little paper cups, but for the most part, the players who actually need the water are out on the field. Every once in a while, they’ll change up, a boy running off the field, another one on.

  One of the players coming off the field has dirty-blond hair and cute dimples. He takes a cup of water from Olivia and grins at her. She refills his cup twice before rolling her eyes at him and telling him that he’s had enough.

  When he sits down, he shoots her a wink.

  Someone has an admirer.

  I watch Noah run across the field, dribbling the ball down toward the opponent’s goal, but then he gets pushed to the ground.

  I practically jump up to see if he’s okay, but he pops right back up.

  When the boys get halfway through the game, they take a break. Olivia and I hand out more waters, and Noah runs up to me.

  “You’re doing awesome,” I tell him.

  He wrinkles his nose. “Uh, thanks, but we haven’t scored yet,” he says, taking the cup from my hand. “Have you seen Mum yet? I saw Dad but not her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here,” I say, trying to encourage him.

  “It’s fine either way. Just wondered about Harry.”

  “Well, don’t,” I tell him, grabbing his shoulder. “This is about you right now.” I tap my finger into his chest. “Stay focused and get your butt back out there and get us a goal.” I push him to the side, giving him a nice butt-smack send off.

  His eyes go wide, but then he laughs at me and shakes his head.

  “I’ll do my best,” he replies, running back onto the field.

  I sit down next to Olivia and notice that she’s staring at me.

  “What?” I ask, not liking it.

  “Nothing,” she says. “Just didn’t realize you and Noah were so close.”

  “Of course we’re close. I live with his family,” I reply, wondering what she’s insinuating.

  As the game goes on, Olivia looks extremely bored. She has her head in her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. I’m keeping my gaze on Noah, watching him move across the field. He’s really good. He runs the ball down the field, and everyone cheers him on.

  All of a sudden, he kicks the ball, and it shoots into the goal.

  I stand up and yell. The sidelines go wild. The guys on the team rush over to hug him.

  But then I notice movement on the other side of the field. I spot Gene getting up and helping Helen open her chair. She sits down, and I see that Harry and Mohammad are with her.

  I perk up, and Olivia notices.

  “Harry,” she whispers, her eyes following the direction of my gaze.

  I nod, my stomach doing flips.

  I look over at Olivia, and she bites her lip, her forehead creasing. And it makes me even more uncomfortable.

  I adjust my legs, trying to focus on myself and not on Olivia.

  Or Harry.

  But I can’t help it.

  I watch as Harry and Mohammad take a seat on the ground. Harry is chomping away on a bag of chips while Mohammad is intensely watching the game.

  I do my best to keep my eyes on the field, on Noah. He plays with intensity and is always focused. It’s fun, watching him play because he never does the same thing twice. He’s always changing it up and moving down the field in a new way, just like when he was practicing.

  When the buzzer goes off, we’ve won two to one. Noah jogs off the field, and I’m so happy for him that I jump into his arms.

  “That was amazing!” I say, congratulating him on his goal.

  He gives me a quick hug. “Thanks,” he replies, looking just as happy as I am.

  “I have to tell you, that was intense! You never stopped running. And I swear, I could barely keep up with the ball. I’m not sure how you do it.”

  I watched Noah run, run, and run some more. The idea of doing that much exercise for an hour and a half seems almost impossible.

  Noah beams at me, sweat running down his cheek. “It was a tough match, actually. So, we’re lucky to have gotten that second goal.” Noah breaks his gaze from me, looking over in the direction of Harry, Mohammad, and his parents.

  I notice Olivia is already over there, talking to Harry. I cross my arms in irritation.

  “Well, should we head over?” Noah asks.

  I stare directly at his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze. Because I don’t know if I want to go over. I don’t want to see Olivia and Harry. And I don’t know if I can face him.

  “Mallory?” Noah asks, tilting his head at me.

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, knocking my shoulder into his and rolling my eyes. “I’m sure they all can’t wait to congratulate you. We’ll probably have to hear how amazing you are all day. I don’t know if I can take it.”

  “Very funny,” he says as I follow him across the field.

  “Bloody brilliant out there, mate.” Harry grins, looking at Noah.

  He looks more awake today, his eyes and smile brighter. But out in the daylight, his black eye and busted lip almost look worse. The swelling has gone down a bit though, and his attitude seems much better.

  He’s yet to look at me though.

  Olivia is standing at his side, and he doesn’t seem to be paying her any attention either.

  “Thanks.” Noah grins, obviously happy to have his friend back to normal.

  Just like Noah said he would be.

  “Great match,” Gene tells Noah.

  Helen hugs him, taking Noah’s duffel from his shoulder.

  “Thanks, Mum.” Noah runs his hand through his hair and asks us all, “Anyone else starving?”

  “To the pub!” Harry shouts, slinging his arm around Noah.

  I look between Helen and Gene, wondering if going to the pub is the best idea. Helen nods at me.

  “Come on,” Mohammad says at my side.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around Harry’s sudden change in mood.

  “We’re getting some food,” he says like I should know.

  “I mean, with Harry,” I whisper, frustrated.

  Mohammad shrugs. “He talked to Helen this morning. We had some delicious bagels—I mean, really delicious.”

  “Mohammad,” I almost growl, wanting him to get back to the point.

  We walk a few steps behind Noah and Harry, and of course, Olivia is still at his side.

  “After we ate, Helen wanted to talk to Harry alone. I decided to just go play some video games and wait while they talked.”

  “You didn’t overhear anything?” I push.

  Mohammad shakes his head. “Trust me, I tried. But they were so quiet that I gave up. Anyway, I can just ask Harry if I want.”

  “He hasn’t even looked at me today.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just have fun with us today. We need to get him perked up. You can talk later.”

  “You’re right,” I say, trying to convince myself.

  We will get him perked up, and then everything will be fine. This is about him, not me.
r />   When we get to the pub, a few other players are already there.

  “Is this like a weekly thing?” I ask Noah as we get up to the counter, trying to bring my mind back to the game.

  “Something like that. We always just end up here because the chips are cheap, and sometimes, the owner will let us sneak a pint.”

  “Ah,” I say, raising my eyebrows in understanding.

  “Not that I’m one to drink at the pub,” he replies with a smirk.

  “Once, Noah. It only happened once.”

  He and his judgment can take a hike.

  “I’m teasing,” he tells me, glancing across my face. “You’re in a mood today.”

  “Obviously.”

  I want nothing more than to let go of the mood that I’m in.

  I just want to have fun with them.

  But things are beyond awkward with Harry, and that throws off, well, everything.

  “Do you want a soda?” Noah asks at the counter. I shake my head. “One water, three orders of chips, and two tomato soups, please.”

  I look at Noah, surprised he ordered for me.

  “It’s the best. I promise you’ll like it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, not convinced. Because I hate tomatoes. Only fresh, delicious, juicy tomatoes win me over, and trust me, they’re hard to come by.

  “All right,” I say, not putting up a fight.

  I turn, taking in the layout of the pub. Mohammad is already seated at a table, a spot open next to him. I decide to take that seat, setting my purse down on the chair. Harry is up at the counter. I figure this is my chance to talk to him, somewhat alone.

  I walk up to the counter, and he almost runs into me after he’s done ordering.

  “Hey,” he draws out, his lips pulling tight.

  “Hey,” I say, my gaze connecting to his.

  “All right there?” he asks, laughing awkwardly.

  “I’m not sure, Harry. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? Come on now. We don’t want to be rude,” he says, putting his hand on the small of my back, pushing me toward the table.

  I take a step away from him, not wanting him to touch me. I turn around and glare at him before going to sit next to Mohammad.

  What the fuck?

  I cannot believe that is all he said.

  Why wouldn’t it be?

  Oh, well, possibly, it could be because you were practically comatose last night. Or it could be because you have hardly spoken to me or looked at me in two days, and now, you’re sitting next to Olivia.

  I feel like I might scream, but I bite my lip, trying to calm myself down.

  “What the fuck happened to your face?” one of the guys from the team asks Harry.

  We all turn to him, waiting for his response.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Harry grins, arching an eyebrow at the guy.

  “Ah, come on,” the guy says.

  “Well, lad, I was out at the pub last night, and this girl was getting handsy with me. She was all over me, and … well, let’s just say, her boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled about it.” Harry grins, raising his glass.

  Olivia smiles at him, and I can’t help but gape at her. Because his words should insult her just as much as they do me.

  But she just laughs and pushes against Harry’s chest.

  “You’re terrible,” she tells him, fondly rolling her eyes at him.

  Harry doesn’t look at her, but he props his arm over the back of her chair.

  I look over at Mohammad, feeling like my eyes might burst.

  He glances at me, offering me a sip of his orange drink. “Want some fizzy?”

  I shake my head at him. “No, thanks,” I say tightly.

  I look across the table at Noah. He doesn’t look upset by Harry’s words or even surprised. He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of water.

  When the food comes to the table, our soups are placed in front of us but the chips—which are not potato chips like I expected, but rather thick French fries—are laid out in the middle for sharing. I watch Noah taste the soup. The content look on his face tells me it must be good, so I give mine a try.

  “Well?” Noah asks.

  “It’s delicious,” I admit, taking another spoonful.

  “See, told you.” He grins.

  “The only good thing about soup is dipping your chips into it,” Mohammad interjects. He grabs one of the fries and dips it into my bowl.

  “Hey,” I say, swatting his hand away.

  His pearly smile comes out. “Try it,” he urges.

  I take a fry from the basket, hesitant to dip it into my soup. But after I taste it, my eyes go wide with delight.

  “You’re right,” I admit to Mohammad, realizing how good the combination is.

  I scoot my bowl over, setting my spoon on the table, letting the soup become a sort of large sauce bowl. Mohammad and I add salt and pepper to our fries before dipping them in.

  I glance at Harry, watching him follow suit, dipping a fry into the soup and then eating it.

  And finally, his gaze connects with mine.

  He swallows hard before quickly glancing away.

  Olivia catches me looking at him.

  She puts her hand on Harry’s leg and shrugs at me.

  I watch in horror, wondering if Harry is going to do anything. Say anything.

  But he doesn’t.

  He doesn’t even look over at her.

  I instantly lose my appetite, my stomach churning, and I feel like I might be sick.

  I can’t take this—him, her, any of them—for another single minute.

  “I have to get out of here,” I whisper to Mohammad.

  “But it’s early,” he says.

  I shake my head at him and look across the table at Harry, who’s leaning in to talk to another guy I don’t know.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, shaking my head. I don’t say anything else. I just get up from the table, grabbing my purse to leave.

  “Mallory, wait,” I hear Noah say over my shoulder, but I don’t stop.

  “I can’t be here,” I say to him, bursting out of the pub. “That, in there”—I point back inside—“is disgusting. It’s like he’s flaunting it. Like he thinks this is funny. A joke. Well, it’s not funny. It’s really not. I am fucking pissed.”

  “He doesn’t know what else to do,” Noah says, standing up for him. “What would you have him do? Tell everyone? Say, Oh, yeah, about the bruises and busted lip. Nah, that came from my dad. Is that really what you want him to say?”

  “I don’t know,” I shout at him. “I want him to say something. Anything. I guess I thought he would tell me about it. About how upset he is.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to you?” Noah asks in surprise.

  “No,” I shout at him. “He doesn’t give a fuck about me, obviously. He hasn’t said a single word to me. And he sat next to her. He had to realize that would hurt me. That it would change things between us. And he doesn’t even care. Last night, I can forgive. Because he needed her. But the way he’s acting today, it’s like things between us never existed. And maybe it’s for the best. Apparently, we’re over—whatever we were anyway.”

  I feel like I’m going to start crying, and I really don’t want to. I squeeze my hands into fists, not wanting to be that girl, out crying in the middle of the street. I glance at Noah, surprised he is even still standing here, letting me shout at him.

  “Come on. Let’s go back to the house. We can watch a movie,” he says, taking a step closer to me.

  “I just want to be alone,” I tell him, trying to push him away.

  “No, you don’t. I think Mum has tons of those home shows recorded. The ones where people buy a holiday house abroad. We could watch a few?”

  “You’d really watch them with me?” I study him closely.

  Noah grins. “You’d be surprised. Between my mum and sister, Dad and I normally have to seek refuge at the local pub ju
st to get a glimpse of the important matches.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” I say, a smile coming to my face.

  Noah dismisses my argument with a wave of his hand. “No one will mind. I’ll even dig through the cupboard. Make us a snack. You didn’t get much to eat with Mohammad helping himself to your food.”

  I look at Noah, realizing how observant he is. He notices small details. I think it’s how he shows he cares—by trying to make it better the only way he knows how.

  “Well, you know I’m a picky eater,” I tell him, raising my eyebrows at him.

  “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Do you need to say good-bye?” I ask, wondering if he needs to go back into the pub.

  “Nah,” he replies, shaking his head.

  I wrap my hand around his elbow and rest my cheek on his shoulder as we walk back to his house.

  When we get there, Helen and Gene are at the door, all dressed up.

  “I didn’t expect you two back so early,” she says.

  Noah shrugs. “The lads wanted to go out, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. Mallory decided to come back with me and just hang.” Noah lies perfectly, as though every word he says is true.

  I look over at him, impressed.

  “Aren’t you just a dear?” Helen says, pinching my cheek. “Well, you’ll have the house to yourselves because we’re off for the evening. Gene’s taking me on a hot date.”

  “Lovely,” Noah says sarcastically.

  I grin at her, thinking back to our conversation about dating. Helen gives me a wink before leaving.

  “Your parents”—I laugh, closing the door and kicking off my shoes—“they’re pretty awesome.”

  “They’re mad,” Noah says, shaking his head.

  “Maybe. But they’re happy.”

  “I guess they are,” he replies, hanging up his jacket on the hook on the wall.

  “Maybe they’re not mad; they just seem like it because they’re smarter than both of us,” I counter, a grin forming on my lips.

  Helen’s good mood seeps into my skin, and it was nice, seeing her all dressed up. Excited to go out. But at this moment, there’s nothing I want more than to curl up into a ball on the couch and stay there.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Noah agrees, stepping closer to me. “Come on. Why don’t you change into something comfortable while I rinse off? Unless you want to sit next to this,” he says, lifting up his shirt and pulling it over my head.