London Prep: Book Three, page 9
Went to bed early.
No biggie.
And to make it even worse, Harry is eating it up. His eyes are sparkling at Noah, a huge grin on his face. I let out a snort.
Because I am not going to take part in the Noah Williams Fan Club that’s happening right now.
“All right?” Harry asks, glancing over at me.
“Fine,” I mutter, deciding I just need to stay quiet.
We’re almost to the house, and then we will have other people as buffers. I can focus on Harry while Gene and Helen praise Noah.
The thought makes my throat tighten.
Stay here forever.
4pm
When we get back to the house, Harry’s the first one inside. He’s already pulling off his shoes as I stand in the doorway, Noah still behind me on the front porch.
“Look at the three of you,” Helen says, eyeing us from the kitchen.
She rushes to our sides, helping me pull off my wet raincoat. It reminds me of the first time I met her, when she picked me up from the airport. I remember her shuffling toward me through the crowd with a sense of urgency and determination. I was a little freaked out when she finally made it to a flustered stop. But quickly, her nerves put my own at ease, and then we were off, driving back to their house.
And that’s when I think I clicked with her. Listening to her talk about Gene, Noah, and Mia. Admiring her speeding skills.
“It’s frightful out there.” Harry nods, hanging up his jacket.
“I knew it would be,” Helen replies, her face flashing with concern. Her eyes widen when she looks down across Noah’s body, her gaze lingering on his muddied legs. “You cannot come into the house like that.”
“Mum,” Noah huffs, stepping into the house and closing the front door.
I shift on the rug, trying to make sure I stay on it while also making enough room for him.
“You will do no such thing. I just spent the morning cleaning,” Helen replies, her hands coming down to rest on her hips.
And with that one motion, I know she won’t give in.
Noah glances around, looking like he’s confused about what to do. He lets out another long sigh as I start to pull off my shoes.
“You will strip off those clothes immediately.”
“Here?” Noah asks.
“I’ll go find you a towel,” Harry offers. A second later, he’s gone, walking toward the laundry room.
“I’ll take off my shoes and be careful, I promise,” Noah says, trying to convince his mom.
Helen raises one eyebrow at him, her hands still at her hips.
“Fine,” Noah finally concedes.
He must realize that she isn’t going to budge because he takes off his shoes and drops his bag onto the floor. Helen stands firmly between him and the house. It’s like she’s protecting it from Noah. And it’s sort of satisfying.
“Well, I think I’m going to change into something dry,” I cut in, breaking their staredown. I smile to Helen, hoping she’ll let me pass.
I glance down at myself.
“I don’t see any mud. Is it all right if I go change?” I decide to ask before making a move.
“That’s fine, dear.” Helen smiles back at me. “Just make sure to put your damp clothes in the laundry room.”
“I will,” I reply, slipping past her as Harry walks back to them with a towel in hand.
I give him a quick smile but then take the stairs two at a time. Because I’m definitely not going to be anywhere near Noah while he strips down into his underwear. I rush into my room, closing the door behind me with relief.
I want to fall down onto the bed and go to sleep, but I don’t. Because Harry is here. Because my clothes are damp, and when I finally get into bed, I want it to be warm and dry. I roll my eyes to myself, getting out of my clothes. I pull on a fresh pair of jeans and a cozy sweatshirt. I sit down at my desk, bracing myself for my reflection.
I look at the mirror with horror. My hair is frizzy, and the whole front section is wet while the back is dry.
Wonderful.
I brush through it once, deciding the only option is to pull it into a bun. It feels good to run a comb through it and get it off my face. I add some ChapStick to my lips and a spritz of perfume, feeling better.
I hear the stairs creak, and I focus on the sound as the footsteps move down the hallway. I let out a breath, knowing that means that the coast is clear. Noah’s stripped-down body is safely locked away in his room or the bathroom, and I can go back downstairs in peace.
I open up my bedroom door, peeking my head out to the left, looking at Noah’s shut door. The bathroom door is also closed, and I feel myself relax a little.
I quickly rush out of my room, keeping my eyes on his door.
But suddenly, I’m slamming straight into a body.
I groan at the impact, putting my hands out to steady myself. My fingers press into a bare stomach, and it’s like all the blood drains from my body in a single moment.
“Shit.” Noah’s voice is all around me, and I let out another groan, this time from frustration.
I do everything I can to avoid his eyes. When I look down, I instantly regret it. Because all I can see are his naked chest and stomach. I move my eyes further down, trying to find something other than his creamy skin. But then I get a glimpse of his bare legs and boxers and feel my stomach flutter.
“Watch it,” I say, realizing that I need to look up at him. I need to keep my eyes off his skin, and glaring at him is the best option at this point.
“You ran into me,” Noah replies, insulted. He puts his hands on my shoulders, moving me to the side of the hallway.
Out of his way.
And he walks right past me.
I turn, watching him as my mouth falls open. His legs are covered in mud, but his back and shoulders are clean. A second later, he’s slamming the bathroom door shut.
I shake my head, trying to get his shirtless, rude body out of my mind.
When I’m back downstairs, I find Harry sitting on the couch. He’s leaning back into the sofa, looking relaxed.
“I feel so much better,” I say, curling up onto the couch with him. I try to keep my mind on my clean, dry clothes and the sweet boy sitting next to me.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Helen says, popping her head out of the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“What are you making?” I ask.
I take a minute to absorb the scent wafting through the house. It’s onion and garlic but mixed with something sweeter.
“I decided on a nice pumpkin soup to warm you up from the rain. Noah loves pumpkin, and Gene will eat just about anything if it’s accompanied by fresh, buttered bread.”
“Uh, that sounds amazing, Mrs. Williams,” Harry says at my side, his eyes practically rolling back in his head at the thought.
Helen’s cheeks tint pink. “I thought so too,” she agrees before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“It’s kind of funny that Gene will eat anything if it’s accompanied by bread. It reminds me of Mohammad and his constant need to stick his chips into my soup.” I smile.
“Mohammad can’t help himself.” Harry smiles back, his blue eyes capturing mine.
I feel myself get lost in them. My heart rate slows down, and I ease into the couch, lacing my fingers through his. I can’t help it when my gaze slips down to his lips.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” he says quietly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
I nod my head. Because there’s always this conflict surrounding me.
And it’s constant.
And exhausting.
But the second it’s just Harry and me, I relax. I can take a breath. I can just be me.
I can be happy.
“Well, if the lady wants a kiss,” Harry says, his hand coming to my cheek.
He pulls my mouth toward his but doesn’t press his lips into mine. He keeps me suspended, our noses dancing together. My cheeks flush with his face so close to mine.
He runs his thumb across my jaw, causing my heart to start pounding.
I lick my lips, wanting this kiss.
And Harry gives it to me. He drops his mouth onto mine. I sit up straighter, feeling my back arch. His lips are firm and warm. I practically fall into them.
Into the feeling.
He has his arm still wrapped around me, his other hand on my face. I bring my hand to his forearm, grasping on to him.
I want his lips to stay here forever.
“I love kissing you,” Harry says against my mouth. Then, his lips move, sprinkling kisses all across my cheek. He turns my head, starting on the other cheek.
I let out a stream of giggles, feeling like a little flower getting showered with sunlight.
“I like kissing you too,” I admit, feeling a flush on my cheeks.
“Dinner,” Helen calls out. Her loud voice grabs my attention, and she must have wanted Noah and Gene to be able to hear her upstairs.
Harry and I get up off the couch and make our way into the kitchen.
“Wow. It smells great, Mum,” Noah says, joining us. He has on shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, his hair wet from his shower. He places a kiss on Helen’s cheek before sitting down.
“Oh,” Helen says with surprise. “Thank you, dear.”
“Can I help with anything?” I offer.
“No, no. Gene,” Helen calls out again, moving the large pot from the stove to the table.
Harry slides down into the chair next to mine as Noah grabs the bread out of the oven, sets it on a plate, and brings it to the table.
“For heaven’s sake. Gene!” Helen moves out of the kitchen, looking up the staircase. “I swear, that man,” she mutters, going upstairs.
“Where’s your dad?” I ask Noah, a laugh escaping my lips.
Noah just shrugs at me.
Harry looks from Noah to me, concerned. I know he’s finally noticed Noah’s shortness, and he wants an explanation, but all I can give him is a shrug of my own.
“I found him,” Helen says, walking with Gene back into the kitchen. She has her hand wrapped around his forearm, like she won’t let him out of her sight again.
“Sorry, guys. That was your gran,” Gene says to Noah as he takes a seat at the table.
“Oh? How is she doing?” Harry asks.
I glance over at him with surprise, but he’s looking to Gene with interest.
“She’s doing well. I have a slight suspicion that she wants to come for a visit soon. Couldn’t get her off the phone,” Gene replies.
“Would you like that?” I ask as Helen pours us each a bowl full of soup.
“It can be a challenge, having family visit. The different routines. But I know she wants to see Mia and hear about her trip,” Gene replies, bringing his first spoonful of soup to his lips.
I do the same, blowing on the warm liquid.
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to have her out then,” Helen says matter-of-factly. “Now, Noah, tell me about your match.”
“It went good,” Noah replies, biting into a piece of bread.
“It went brilliantly. Noah dominated,” Harry interjects, slurping a spoonful of soup.
Gene lets out a small, concealed chuckle, watching him, and I can’t help but smile.
“I knew you would do great.” Helen beams.
“Thanks, Mum.”
Noah and I don’t talk at all through dinner. He laughs at Harry’s jokes, maintains conversation with his dad, and always blushes at his mom’s compliments.
But with me?
Nothing.
And honestly, it’s crappy.
Because this whole night was his idea. Coming back after his match, having fondue.
As Harry and Gene clear the table and put the leftovers in the fridge, Helen brings a tray full of dipping options over. Apples, strawberries, biscuits, and marshmallows are stacked high.
I look at the tray, feeling slightly defeated.
The idea of having to sit here, being forced to celebrate with someone who won’t even look in my direction makes the soup in my stomach churn.
“I’ll be right back. Need to use the loo,” Noah says, getting up from the table.
No one pays attention to his statement.
I look between Helen, the fondue pot on the counter, and Noah, who is leaving the kitchen.
And I can’t deal with things being like this.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as Gene and Harry sit back down at the table.
I push out of my seat, making my way out of the kitchen.
“What was that about?” I can hear Helen’s voice from the kitchen.
“They were in a fight or something earlier,” Harry replies as I’m walking upstairs.
“Noah,” I say, catching him just as he’s walking into the bathroom. I follow him in, closing the door.
“What?”
“We’re celebrating my grade tonight,” I state, looking at him.
“Yeah?”
“So, we are celebrating. Not … fighting. This whole night, the fondue, it was your idea.”
I look at him, feeling defeated. Something about the silence at dinner got to me. The way he diverted his eyes from mine.
He nods, his lips pulling to the side. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask.
“We’re fine,” he confirms, his face softening. “I’m … sorry that I yelled at you.”
“I’m sorry that I pushed you.”
“I don’t want to talk about last night anymore.” Noah blinks a few times, like he’s trying to clear something from his eyes.
“Neither do I,” I agree.
“Okay.”
“So, we’re okay?” I ask awkwardly.
“We’re always okay,” Noah sighs. But then he nods his head toward the door.
“What?”
“Want to give me some privacy, or do you want to watch me use the loo?” he says, raising his eyebrows at me.
His lips hold out a smirk, and I let out a relaxed laugh.
“All right, all right,” I reply, getting his point, “I’ll leave.”
“You can stay,” he banters back. “I mean, it’s not like you haven’t seen most of me naked anyway.”
“What …”
“Don’t you remember? I thought you were going to murder me when you were banging on the bathroom door your first week here. And then you followed me into my room, and I stripped off my towel. You were so angry … until I did that.”
“Noah!” I want to smack him for bringing that up. Because he was such a little crap to me.
But suddenly, he’s ruffling my hair, rolling his eyes. “But then you just got … flushed.”
My eyes form into saucers as I think about that day. How I do clearly remember seeing Noah’s butt.
“I actually need to use the loo now,” Noah says, ushering me out of the bathroom. He moves me into the hallway, closing the door between us.
I shake my head, deciding it’s best not to ask questions. Because I think we’ve made up.
Or at least, we’ve agreed not to fight.
I walk back down to the kitchen, seeing that Helen’s moved the fondue pot to the table. The whole kitchen smells like warm chocolate now.
“You get it sorted?” Harry asks as I sit back down.
I nod apologetically to all of them.
“You’re not a sweep it under the rug kind of girl.” Harry smiles.
“I’m not.” I flush.
“I think that’s something admirable about Americans. They like to address things right away,” Helen admits.
“I prefer the rug,” Gene says wittingly, smiling down at his empty plate.
“I’d like to think I prefer the rug too. Normally, I hate confrontation. But it’s almost worse when you know you just need to get it out of the way.”
“I think there’s a distinction,” Helen offers. “Sometimes, it’s best not to latch on to every small thing. It can become overwhelming. But if there’s an issue that must be addressed, it’s better to get those things sorted.”
Gene nods in agreement. Harry glances over at me, a smile on his lips.
“Well, your son likes to compare me to a bulldozer.” I laugh as Noah sits back down at the table.
“A true compliment.” Gene chuckles, shaking his head.
“My thoughts exactly.” I grin.
“Noah’s always had a way with words,” Harry says, laughing now too.
I watch his eyes close as he laughs. I think he can completely see Noah saying that, but at the same time, he’s almost in disbelief that Noah actually would.
“Oh, Noah,” Helen scolds, looking across the table at him.
“It wasn’t an insult,” Noah defends, rolling his eyes. “It was an … observation.”
“How thoughtful of you to observe,” I tease.
“Well, I’m not sure about a bulldozer, but I like your personality,” Harry interrupts, his mouth falling open slightly. “You know exactly what you want, and you always make it crystal clear.” He gets a boyish grin on his face, his hand coming down onto my leg.
“Aww,” Helen coos, causing Gene to actually break into a smile.
My cheeks tint pink because of the way Harry is looking at me. Because, well, he has a sparkle in his eye that goes beyond fondness.
He’s teasing me about last night.
About how I apparently was extremely direct with what I wanted.
“A bulldozer charges forward without any regard. It’s frightening, but it’s powerful. That’s what I meant … in case you were wondering,” Noah mumbles.
“I’m not sure that makes it any better, mate.” Harry chuckles, his eyes slipping to Noah. “But the real question is, what would you compare me to?”
“Oh, do tell, Noah,” Helen encourages. “And dig in, everyone. Congratulations again, Mallory.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her.
Noah shakes his head, keeping his lips sealed.
“I’d like to think of myself as a dashing gentleman or a Roman god of some sort. I could be like Napoleon, leading the world ahead,” Harry continues, grabbing a chocolate biscuit and dunking it straight into the fondue.
“Those are very bold comparisons,” I offer, trying to decide between the apple and strawberry.
