London Prep: Book Three, page 31
“I didn’t have an explanation at the time. You’re my … girlfriend. I thought you were just supposed to be there for me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m standing right here, talking to you,” I insist. “Maybe you should figure out an explanation. Because I’m trying really hard not to jump to conclusions right now. I know you’re going through a terrible time. I know you are. But it’s not an excuse.”
“Why are you yelling at me?” Harry replies, shaking his head. “I came here to apologize for being a prick yesterday.”
“Why am I yelling? I’m yelling because I woke up to fifteen texts telling me that my boyfriend was drunk last night, got into a fight, and was out with his ex-girlfriend,” I say, running my hands down my face. “And every time you open up to me, I open up to you too. And yet, after each time you do, you freeze up. You stop yourself. You can’t do it.”
“I can,” Harry pleads.
“No, you can’t. And in your process of self-discovery, you’re just dragging me along.”
“You have no clue what’s going on in my life,” he says, his voice cracking.
He looks distraught.
“And whose fault is that? Let me clear some things up. I’m done. You want me off your back? I’m off. I’m over it. Feel free to do what you want, when you want. And with whomever you want. Just don’t expect it to be with me,” I say, pushing past him.
“What?” Harry asks, catching my hand. I should pull out of his grip, but I don’t. “Mallory, I’m sorry.” He keeps his hand wrapped around mine.
“You’re always sorry,” I say, feeling my hand start to shake in his.
“Fuck. Stop jumping to conclusions and just listen to me for a second.”
“Harry,” I insist, “you woke up and dragged yourself here for a reason. You’re apologizing for yesterday. I can put two and two together.”
Harry drops my hand. “You won’t believe me. You’ve already shut me out.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice steady and calm. “I need to go.”
“No. Mallory, I didn’t cheat on you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, feeling upset over so many things.
“I’m not going to just let you declare it’s over and walk away,” he says.
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” Harry reaches for my hand again.
“Just stop!” I yell, feeling tears sting my cheeks. I step away from him, trying to make him understand. “You’re breaking my heart, okay? More and more with each and every word. I don’t want it to be this way, but it has to be. I can’t keep giving you more. You’re hurting me.”
Harry stares at me, a tear slipping from his eye.
“You need to go,” Noah says as he steps outside, closing the front door behind him.
“Noah …” I barely get his name out of my mouth. I don’t have the energy to say anything else.
Noah shakes his head at me, looking more upset than I’ve ever seen him. He’s staring at Harry, his usually golden brown eyes practically black.
Harry wipes his eyes, looking between me and Noah, and then nods.
He sucks in his cheeks and swallows hard, glancing around like he’s trying to figure out what to do.
“I’ll go,” he finally says. He turns around and then heads down the street.
I stay, standing frozen in my spot, until I can’t see him anymore.
I want to collapse.
To fall to the ground.
But I dig my nails into my palms, knowing that I can’t do that. Noah’s looking over my shoulder, watching Harry like he might blow up at any moment.
But his face changes as he looks me over. He dips his head down, searching my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, like I’m the one he told to leave.
“Please don’t say anything.”
“Mal,” Noah says, bringing his hands onto my shoulders.
I look up at him, forcing my eyes to stop fogging over with tears. “I don’t want to cry right now. And if you keep talking, I’m going to cry.”
Noah keeps his eyes on mine, his forehead creased. His lips are pulled into a frown. He looks between me and the door but finally nods.
My nails continue digging into my palms at my sides as we walk. I feel a mixture of emotions.
But mostly, I feel hurt.
Noah constantly looks over at me. His eyes soft and concerned. I try to keep my focus on school. On getting to Naomi.
Because I know that she must be feeling terrible right now.
I squeeze my fists tighter, but then Noah’s hand comes down onto my arm, holding up my hand. He opens up my fist as we walk, taking in the red nail marks on my palm.
I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me.
“Squeeze mine instead,” he says, lacing his hand through mine.
As we walk to school, whenever I feel like my emotions are about to spill over, I squeeze tightly. Noah doesn’t say anything, just like I asked.
But every once in a while, he squeezes back.
We walk in silence until we’re in the courtyard of Kensington. There are a few students milling about, but for the most part, it’s quiet and empty.
I glance to the tree.
The central spot where Harry and I sat and kissed the morning we came here to investigate before school.
Someone is sitting in that same spot, seated with one leg crossed atop the other.
But it’s not Harry.
It’s Mohammad.
I let go of Noah’s hand, practically running to him. I throw myself into his arms and wrap my hands around his neck.
“Nice to see you too.” He chuckles, hugging me back.
“You’re here,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “I mean, why are you here?”
Mohammad pulls away from my hug, nodding to Noah.
“I do go to school here. In case you forgot.” He grins. “But if you’re referring to why I’m here so early, ask Noah. He messaged me.”
I turn, looking at Noah as he approaches us. “You texted him?”
“I thought you could use the friendly face,” Noah replies, his eyes shifting between Mohammad and me. He glances around the courtyard, his eyes scanning the students passing us by.
And I know that he’s looking for Harry.
“Care to fill me in?” Mohammad says, pulling my attention away from Noah.
“I think I just broke up with Harry … I mean, the words that came out of my mouth gave off that impression. I didn’t mean it. Of course I didn’t. But … I don’t know. Something in me snapped, and I sort of just declared that we were done.”
“What?” Mohammad shrieks, his eyes popping out.
“And now, you see why I messaged you,” Noah says to Mohammad as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration.
“What happened?” Mohammad asks, looking frantically between Noah and me.
“Harry and George went out last night, and Olivia was there. This morning, Harry tried to explain things to me, but I barely let him speak. I was so frustrated. I was kind of a jerk.”
I know that I handled the situation badly.
“It’s okay to be upset,” Noah says to me.
“Did something happen between Harry and Olivia?” Mohammad asks, vocalizing what I have been worrying about all along.
“No. At least, I’m pretty sure. Harry said nothing happened.” I realize it’s already seven thirty-five. I wave my hand through the air and say, “I’ll let Noah fill you in. He saw the texts from Naomi. I really need to go in and meet her.”
“Wait, what does Naomi have to do with this?” Mohammad asks, looking even more confused.
“Just come inside in, like, ten minutes. I’m sure Naomi could use the cheering up. But let me talk to her first,” I say to both of them before walking into school.
When I get inside, I easily spot Naomi sitting on one of the couches.
She has on her uniform, but she doesn’t look anything like herself. Her hair is pulled up into a scrunchie, and her usually rosy face is a tinge too pale.
“Hey,” I say.
Naomi brings her eyes up to mine, her brows dipping when she connects our gaze. She’s holding on to her backpack in her lap like it’s a pillow, and she automatically pushes out a pout as I sit down.
“Hey,” she replies softly, her shoulders drooping.
I can’t think of anything else to do but pull her into a hug. I wrap my arms around her, trying to make her feel better.
“Thanks,” she says into my hair, hugging me back.
Naomi pulls away, and I move her backpack off her lap. I turn, pulling one of my legs up onto the couch so I can look directly at her. I rest my arm along the back of the couch, bringing my hand up to her hair, running down it once.
She doesn’t say anything; she just looks at her hands in her lap.
I stroke her hair, giving her a minute.
“I feel like absolute shit,” she finally says, her lips quivering.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to make sense of everything. “Didn’t you have your date last night?”
“Yes!” she replies, her voice rising. “And it was perfect. We talked about our families, and he told me how much he fancied me. But I guess it was all just for show.”
“This might be a bad question,” I say hesitantly, trying to be gentle. “But had you two talked about being exclusive? I mean, is it something you can get past, or are you done with him?”
“He hadn’t asked me to be his girlfriend,” she clarifies. “But last night, he invited me to his mate’s party this upcoming weekend. He was pretty clear that we could stay the night and have time to ourselves.”
“Wow,” I reply, shaking my head.
“What a wanker,” Naomi growls, looking more upset now than sad. “He was just trying to get into my knickers this weekend, I’m sure.”
“What can I do?”
Naomi pinches her lips, her eyes drifting up to the corner of the room. “Can you fix my makeup? I didn’t have it in me to put any on this morning.”
“I don’t have any with me,” I reply, my lips pulling into a flat line.
“I carry a touch-up bag.”
She reaches for her backpack, pulls out a cute little bag, and hands it to me. Inside, I find eye shadow, mascara, blush, and lip gloss. There are also mini concealers and sample-sized perfume bottles, among other things.
“You’re prepared,” I reply, admiring her stash. “I think you’ve got more in your travel kit than I have in total.”
“We really need to get you a proper full set of makeup.” She laughs, shaking her head at me.
“You’re probably right,” I agree with a smile.
I apply gold eye shadow to her lids before coating her lashes with mascara. I glance at her cheeks, adding a little highlighter to her cheekbones and down the center of her nose.
“This feels nice,” she says, letting out a sigh.
“It’s fun to have your makeup done,” I agree, dabbing gloss on her lips.
I add a little spritz of perfume to her neck and then look her over. Her hair looks cute up, but I pull down a few tendrils, allowing them to frame her face.
“You look beautiful.” I hand her back her makeup bag. “You did before, too, but I hope it helps you feel better.”
“Thanks.” Naomi smiles and looks herself over in her compact mirror. “I just still can’t believe it.”
“At least you know now. It’s better to know now than to fall madly in love with him and then realize he doesn’t want the same things as you,” I tell her, hoping she can see the bigger picture.
“That’s what Olivia said,” Naomi says with a sigh, putting her makeup back into her backpack.
“Where is Olivia anyway?” I ask, daring to bring her up.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” Naomi replies mindlessly. “I just feel ridiculous. Oh, and you should know that Olivia wasn’t out with Harry. I’m sorry if I made it sound like that. I’m sure I had you flipping.”
“Harry came by to talk to me this morning actually.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing of use. I argued with him and basically left.”
“Well, I know Olivia. Even if she wanted to get back with Harry, she wouldn’t have done anything with him while you’re his girlfriend. Not necessarily out of respect for you, but because she’s prideful.”
I nod, not sure what to say. Or if I believe her.
“Unlike George,” Naomi goes on. “Who apparently will get with any girl he can find.”
“You’re better off,” I insist.
“Better off with me,” Mohammad says, dropping down next to Naomi on the couch.
“Hi.” I smile at him, grateful for the interference.
Mohammad gives me a nod before turning his attention—and his grin—back to Naomi. I glance over to Noah as Mohammad slides his arm around Naomi’s shoulders.
“Don’t be cheeky,” Naomi warns.
“I have to be,” Mohammad replies seriously. “Look at you. You’re absolutely stunning. It’s George’s loss.”
Naomi gives me a sympathetic smile before looking back to Mohammad. “Well, thank you. I’ll take the compliment.”
I glance across the seating area to Noah. He sat on the couch opposite ours, and he’s leaning back into the cushions with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You girls need to cheer up,” Mohammad insists, looking between Naomi and me. “You’re sitting next to some of the finest and fittest lads Kensington has to offer, yet you have nothing to say.”
I look back over at Noah as he cracks a smile.
“Just because I’m not dating George anymore doesn’t mean I’m ready for a new boy to fancy me,” Naomi replies.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m not looking for a woman to fancy,” Mohammad cuts in, eager to set the record straight.
“You’re not?” Naomi asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
Her words catch me off guard, and I look to Noah, who is watching them intently.
Mohammad bites his lip before glancing over at me. He looks lovestruck with confusion and slightly impressed. Or maybe it’s worry on his face. It’s hard to tell because, a second later, he’s staring at Naomi like she’s the most interesting thing he’s seen all day.
And seemingly, George has been wholly forgotten because Naomi is looking back at Mohammad with, well, flirty eyes.
“But maybe I should be …” Mohammad banters with her.
Naomi replies with a coy smile.
I scrunch up my nose, sort of horrified that my visions of them getting together seem to be coming true. And slightly because it’s like watching two animals dance around one another right before they mate.
And I definitely feel like I shouldn’t be here, listening and watching.
Naomi looks up at Mohammad coolly, taking in his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. “I’d believe you more if you hadn’t snogged by best friend the last time we were all together,” she says, raising her chin at Mohammad. And raising a fair point.
“If I remember, you weren’t exactly at that party alone,” Mohammad replies quickly, his eyes still on her.
“Ugh, don’t bring him up. I can’t be bothered to hear his name again,” Naomi says, shaking her head.
“Let’s not talk about him then,” Mohammad replies, fully taking over the conversation. “Let’s talk about what you are doing Friday night.”
“What?” I stutter, my eyes going wide.
“What do you have in mind?” Naomi asks.
But I can tell she’s still listening because she looks over at me, her cheeks flushed.
Mohammad dips his lips toward her ear, saying something to her with a smile that I can’t hear.
Naomi’s mouth falls wide open as she listens. She lets out a giggle but then stops herself, pushing him away with her palm.
“It’s a nice offer, but you’ll have to do better,” she says as Olivia joins us.
“What, partying without me?” Olivia sits down on the opposite couch.
I notice Noah glances over to her, his jaw setting.
“Piss off,” Mohammad mumbles, looking upset at the sight of her.
“Excuse me?” Olivia says, her face paling.
“Either explain yourself or piss off. Because a lot of people were hurt last night,” Mohammad replies.
I’ve never seen him so serious. Or upset. And he’s definitely not budging.
“You’re joking,” Olivia says flatly. “I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault Naomi fell for a fuckboy. And it’s not my fault that Harry and George went on a bender and got in a fight.”
“No, but your lovely rendition of the evening got around before anyone had a chance to explain themselves,” Mohammad interrupts.
Olivia looks at me, her face flushing.
“Nothing happened between Harry and me,” she states, her tone harsh. “Besides, even if something did, I don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
“Actually, you do.” Noah is the one to speak up this time.
I look at him, surprised he even said anything.
“If you want to be friends with us, then we do need an explanation,” Mohammad agrees.
“For fuck’s sake. I ran into George and Harry on accident. And after we’d spoken yesterday, I was worried. I stayed with them to make sure he was okay. They were pissed but in good spirits. George, obviously, found someone of interest. I left Harry at the bar to use the loo, and when I came back, they were in a fight,” Olivia says, talking a mile a minute. “Harry was upset, caught a cab, and left. That was it.”
Noah’s watching me the entire time Olivia speaks. It makes me self-conscious, and I try hard not to let a single emotion flash across my face.
I don’t want to have a reaction.
I need to just listen in silence.
“All right then,” Mohammad says with a nod.
“All right then,” Olivia grumpily replies, getting up from the couch. She looks at Mohammad’s arm around Naomi, and I can see her eyes trying not to roll back. But she does a good job, keeping them in place, and says to Mohammad, “So, do you want to walk to class?”
