London Prep: Book Three, page 8
It’s probably because I can already feel myself getting more frustrated as Harry stands next to me, and I think they can see it written all over my face.
“Actually, no,” I correct, turning to face Harry. “Can we talk?”
My arms want to cross over my chest, but I don’t let them.
“Sure,” Harry replies, but it almost sounds more like a question than an answer.
I shift away from Mohammad and Gene, walking a few paces to give us a little distance and privacy.
“What’s up?” Harry asks. His forehead is creased, and he seems confused.
“Did you tell Noah about last night?” I come right out and ask the question.
“Tell him what?” Harry’s eyes stay on me with the question.
I shake my head, frustrated, because he should already know what I’m asking.
“About us. About last night. About … me.” I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he gets the point.
Harry sucks in a long, slow breath. But then a smile cracks on his face, his eyes brightening. “I told Noah that you were a bit … determined last night.”
He’s still smiling at me, and I can’t help but groan.
“Harry …”
“What?” he says, taking a step closer. He places his hands on my arms, holding me firmly. “I was flattered.”
“I’m mortified.”
“It’s just Noah,” Harry says lightly. “He doesn’t care.”
“Did you tell him that I … threw myself at you?” I stutter over the words, feeling slightly sick at them.
“No, Mallory—” Harry says.
But I hold up my hand, stopping him.
Because I’m about done with these boys.
Both of them.
“What’s wrong? You tell Mohammad everything. And now, suddenly, it’s not all right if I talk to Noah?”
Harry looks upset, and I can’t blame him.
“I tell Mohammad …” I start but then let out a growl. Because he’s right, and I hate that he’s right. “I tell Mohammad things, and he keeps it to himself.”
“Really?” Harry cocks his head to the side, looking amused.
“Fine. Maybe he doesn’t always keep things to himself. But for the most part, he does. And even if he doesn’t, he doesn’t judge me, Harry.”
“What are you upset about?”
“I’m upset that you told Noah something so private.”
“Noah doesn’t care,” Harry says, his eyes flashing.
“He does care,” I correct, trying to make Harry understand. “And I care.”
“What?” Harry asks.
I close my mouth, silently scolding myself.
I should have just kept my mouth shut.
“I told you the other day that Noah cares about his virginity. And I got a not-so-subtle lecture today on being a respectable woman and not throwing myself—and my virginity—away in one drunken night.” The words tumble out of my mouth in frustration.
I connect my gaze to Harry’s, wondering what his reaction is going to be. Maybe he’ll be mad. Or upset. What he should probably be is concerned with why Noah cares about my virginity so much.
I expect a million different reactions, but Harry just laughs.
Not a mocking laugh. A warm, full-belly laugh. He tosses his head back, his whole face brightening as he stands in front of me, laughing.
Laughing.
“That sounds like Noah,” he finally says, his blue eyes coming back to mine. He pulls me against his chest, running his hand down across my back.
I instantly pull away from him. Because he can’t be serious.
“Harry, I’m not joking.”
“Guys,” Mohammad says, interrupting us. He’s looking at me with disbelief.
How long has he been standing there?
“What?”
“The match is starting,” Mohammad says, looking out to the field.
I rip my eyes away from him, watching as the players get set up.
“Come on. Let’s go back over to Gene,” Harry comments, moving next to Mohammad.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, standing firm.
But a second later, Mohammad is ushering me back over, Harry still chuckling to himself.
I look at Harry the same way that Mohammad was just looking at me—with actual disbelief. I open my mouth to fight with him, but then I close it.
Now is not the time or the place.
And part of me knows Harry is right. He didn’t tell Noah, knowing that Noah would get upset and then get upset with me.
He was talking to Noah as a friend.
At least, he made it sound like he was.
I glance over at him, feeling a little guilty for being so rude. Because Harry was sweet to me. He’s been nothing but sweet, and the first chance I get, I attack him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as the match starts. I look at him briefly, too chicken to hold his gaze.
Harry’s eyes flick over to mine, his lips pulling to the side.
“I’m sorry that what Noah said upset you,” he replies, leaning closer to me until his arm bumps against mine.
“I was already embarrassed about last night,” I whisper, knowing that I need to be quiet. Gene is at my other side, and I don’t want him to overhear. “And then, when Noah said … anyway, I just thought you had told him, and I was freaking out already.”
“I promise I didn’t give him any juicy details,” Harry says, turning to me. “But I had to talk to someone about last night, get some relief. You were a demoness,” Harry whispers the last words in my ear before bringing his mouth to mine. He kisses me hesitantly. It’s like he’s not sure if I’m willing to accept his apology, his words.
I bring my hand up onto his cheek, kissing him back.
Because he’s right. I can’t fault him for talking to Noah. Noah’s reaction was my fault, not Harry’s.
I quickly bite his lip, bringing it between my teeth before pulling back. Harry smiles down at me as he pinches my chin.
He wraps his arm around my waist and looks out to the field.
I look out, too, watching as Highgate gets the ball. They send it flying down the field and rolling out of bounds.
One of Kensington’s players goes out to throw it back in when Noah looks over at us.
I’m not sure why I expected him to look happy. Maybe because every time he sees Harry, he becomes a happier, better Noah. But when he looks at us, he doesn’t smile. He barely moves his chin up, throwing Harry a nod.
I keep my lips in a straight line. I don’t give him a wave or a smile.
I don’t give him a single ounce of encouragement.
Noah grabs my gaze, holding it only for a second, but it’s enough time to tell that he’s moved beyond being sad or grumpy.
Now, he’s angry.
And that is a look I know well.
Noah turns his attention back to the field, and a second later, he has the ball. I flinch as someone falls to the ground, tripping another player. The rain picks up, and I pull up my hood. Mohammad opens his umbrella. I glance over to Harry, watching as his blond hair darkens from the water.
The match is intense, and all of the players are wet and covered with mud and grass. It seems like everyone has fallen at least once, and the coaches are constantly screaming out directions.
The air surrounding the field feels heavy with electricity.
You would think it would be hot to see a bunch of guys wet and filled with testosterone, playing with this much intensity.
But this feels almost more serious.
Noah’s eyes look like coals, and his body is moving so quickly that it seems impossible to keep our eyes on the ball.
Mohammad walks around Gene, giving me his umbrella to stand under. He hands it over like he can’t be bothered with it anymore, his eyes glued to the field.
“Fuck, our boy is in fine shape today,” Harry says, his eyes on Noah.
Noah easily moves past his opponent, dribbling the ball down to the goal.
“He’s killing it,” Mohammad agrees, looking like he’s ready to shout out with applause.
A second later, Kensington scores.
I watch Noah, wishing that this wasn’t about something more.
That this wasn’t about us.
But he doesn’t even look happy about the goal.
“He’s angry,” I state. Because they should know the truth.
Noah is dominating because he’s pissed.
He’s hurt.
And he’s taking all that energy—that energy and emotion stored away for me—and he’s showing it now.
“What?” Harry asks, looking over at me.
Mohammad looks over, too, even though I already told him.
“I told you, we got into a fight.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “You always fight. I swear, it’s like you’re siblings or some shit.”
“That’s because Noah’s infuriating,” I state, wishing that what Harry said were true.
Wishing that we fought like we were siblings.
Things would be easier if it were like that.
But they aren’t.
The match continues. I listen to Gene cheer, throwing his hands out in front of him in excited fists. I smile, watching him, seeing how, every once in a while, he jumps with excitement.
And then there’s Harry next to me, holding my hand now. Every so often, he glances over at me, smiling, when he’s not cheering Noah on.
And then there’s Noah, practically strutting across the field. He’s taken ahold of everyone’s attention, his hardened jaw never faltering.
But then the match is over, and they’ve won.
Mohammad and Gene are clapping, and everyone along the sidelines is cheering.
Even Highgate fans.
Because despite Kensington winning, it was an intense match for everyone. It was a close game.
“Bloody hell,” Harry screams, extending out his hands as Noah runs over to us.
Noah’s beaming, a wide smile set on his face. He’s sweaty and dirty, but he looks relieved.
“What a match,” Gene boasts, his face lit up.
“You destroyed it out there,” Mohammad agrees, looking just as happy.
Their mood is contagious, and despite not wanting to crack a smile, I do.
“Thanks,” Noah replies, wrapping his arms around Harry in a hug.
When Noah pulls back, he glances down to me, and then his eyes quickly shift to Gene’s.
“Great match.” Gene smiles at him, his cheeks tinting pink.
“I cannot believe what you did out there. You decimated them. Dominated. You were a fucking champion,” Harry goes on, getting louder with each word.
I scrunch up my nose, watching as he marks the occasion with his speech.
“The glory that Kensington is going to get,” Mohammad agrees. “This definitely just upped our status.”
“Your status?” I ask.
“Anyone who was here, watching Noah, was left practically panting along with him. I mean, every girl in school is going to want him after this. Which means every girl is going to want to be friends with me to get to him. It’s brilliant,” Mohammad boasts.
“Oh, boys, that’s enough now,” Gene interrupts, shaking his head.
“He is right, Mr. Williams. I think everyone is going to want Noah after today. I mean, I even find myself attracted to the man.” Harry grins.
“Well, don’t let me get in your way then,” Gene banters, taking a step back.
Noah glances over to Gene, still grinning.
I expect them to hug, but instead, Noah gets a soft pat on the back from Gene. And the angry Noah that was on the field is completely gone.
Now, he’s standing here, almost blushing at their compliments, a wide smile on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him, not convinced.
Because this Noah cannot be trusted.
He could turn at any second.
“I’d ask if you were going to stop in at the pub before coming back to the house, but I’m not sure you’d be let in, in your state,” Gene comments.
I glance across Noah, taking in his wet and muddied body. He’s standing between Gene and me, and I can smell the grass and sweat mixed into his skin.
“I think I need a shower first,” Noah replies.
“I think so too,” I decide to finally add.
Noah’s eyes land on mine, and I instantly regret speaking. I feel like with one look, all of my insides do a flip. He holds my eyes, tilting his head. But a second later, he’s looking back at his dad.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Mum’s making fondue tonight, so we’ll just head straight back.”
Gene nods, apparently just now remembering about the fondue. “Right, well, I’m off. I’ll see you two at home. And maybe you boys,” Gene says, looking to Mohammad and Harry with a smile.
Harry nods, his eyes on Gene.
“See you,” Noah calls out as his dad walks off, giving a small wave.
“You’ll come over?” Noah asks, looking between Mohammad and Harry.
“For fondue?” Harry says, already nodding his head. “Absolutely.”
“I can’t,” Mohammad replies. “My aunt wanted me back after your match to help get ready for my parents’ return tomorrow.”
Mohammad drops his eyes, looking down to his feet, like he’s both sad and disappointed by the news himself.
“Get ready?” Harry asks, sounding confused.
“Yeah. She’s ordered them a cake. Wants to put up streamers and make a sign. She’s making us go greet them at Heathrow tomorrow.” Mohammad rolls his eyes, but I think it might be for show.
“Awww. I’m sure your parents and sisters will love that,” I encourage, thinking about how excited his family will be to see him.
He just shrugs, waving his hand in the air like he couldn’t care less.
“I don’t know about Mohammad greeting them at the airport, but his sisters will love the streamers,” Noah says, a smirk on his face.
Harry lets out a loud laugh, looking with bright eyes between Noah and Mohammad.
Mohammad shakes his head but doesn’t look upset, and he cracks a smile.
“Well, fuck, what are you doing later? I mean, we need to celebrate. Noah destroyed it out there,” Harry says.
“Uh, no. I don’t think I could manage another bender,” Noah says, shaking his head.
His brows drop in, like the thought of drinking grosses him out. And honestly, I’m right there with him.
“We have to celebrate,” Harry says.
“We are celebrating. Just with chocolate fondue instead of alcohol,” Noah replies.
“I can’t believe I’m missing fondue. Do you think your mum will save me some?” Mohammad asks, his shoulders falling.
“I’m sure she would,” I answer, wanting Mohammad to feel included.
“Chocolate fondue? I am so down. What’s the occasion?” Harry asks.
“Helen probably knew what the score of the match would be,” Mohammad answers, looking frightened. “I’m telling you … women.”
I let out a laugh, watching as Noah rolls his eyes.
“It’s actually for Mallory.”
My name on his lips draws my attention, and when I look up to him, his eyes are on me.
“Oh?” Harry asks.
I break my eyes from Noah, turning to Harry. “To celebrate my grade in Latin. The test I did good on,” I clarify.
“Well, any excuse for chocolate.” Harry grins at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
Noah chuckles, glancing over to his duffel. “I’ll grab my stuff, and then we should go. I think it’s going to start pouring again.”
Harry nods. I glance up to the sky, taking in the darkening clouds above us.
“Brilliant job, mate,” Mohammad says, patting Noah on the shoulder before pulling me into a hug.
“I’ll make sure to have a little extra chocolate tonight for you.” I smile.
“It’s a nice sentiment, but I think that might make it even worse.”
He hugs me back, nods to Harry, and then is off. Noah runs across the field to grab his duffel.
I take Harry’s hand into mine. “I’m glad you’re coming for fondue.”
“Of course you are. It’s what you were begging me for last night, right? Me, you, and chocolate.” He beams.
I shake my head, a smile forming on my lips.
“I think it might be a little different tonight. Add in clothes, Gene, Helen, Noah, and nothing sexual.”
Harry waves his hand at me, his blue eyes connecting to mine. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”
I raise my eyebrow at him, not convinced.
Harry lets out a light chuckle. “All right, fine. Maybe it’s just an excuse to watch you lick chocolate off your finger. But a man can dream, can’t he?”
“And we get to the real motive.” I grin.
Noah walks back up to us, his duffel over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I agree.
As we walk off the field, a few people nod and smile at Noah saying, “Great match.”
I want to tell them to shut up. That they shouldn’t be feeding his pride. But I keep my mouth shut.
Because he did do a great job.
And because he looks … almost peaceful. And I’m not going to push my luck.
If Noah wants to be happy now, then fine, let him be happy.
The walk back to the house is in a sort of comfortable silence. The rain darkens the sidewalk, and a chill runs through me. Noah glances over at me, noticing, before looking away. I wrap my arm through Harry’s, and he tucks me against his side.
“I can’t wait to be out of this rain,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
“I’m still fucking impressed,” Harry comments. “After how much you drank last night, the fact that you could even make it out to the field was a feat.”
Noah lets out a chuckle. “It was a good thing I missed the rest of the fun then. I felt like absolute shit this morning. But after having a rest and a bagel, I felt better.”
Noah’s shoulders shrug easily, annoying me.
Because he’s acting so nonchalant. Like the fact that he put me through emotional hell last night doesn’t mean anything to him.
He was just a little drunk.
