The Party: London Prep, Book 5

Book 5: London Prep

by Jillian Dodd

Genres: Young Adult; YA Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

It’s my first week as an official student at Kensington School, and things couldn’t be more chaotic. I’m living in a hotel, trying to recover from the news of my parents’ move to London, and working to make things right with Harry, Noah, and Mohammad.

 

Mohammad says I’m back in the boys’ club.

Harry tells me that he wants me back in his life.

And Noah, well, he’s always been complicated.

 

But after a too-generous gift from Harry and a heated moment with Noah on my birthday, things seem to change. Noah is flirting with me again and Harry shows me he’s serious about us being friends when he asks me to be his date to his parents’ party.

 

Everything feels like it’s back to normal—until the party.

Because Mohammad somehow ends up with two dates.

Harry asks me to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night.

And Noah tells me he likes me. A lot.

 

In the midst of meeting Harry’s parents and helping Mohammad navigate a potential disaster with Naomi, Noah says that I need to show him how I feel. But what he’s really asking for is for me to make a choice.

 

Him or Harry.

Release date: October 19, 2021

Publisher: Swoonworthy Books

Print pages: 367

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) high heat (1) realistic characters (1) satisfying ending (1) strong chemistry (1) swoon-worthy (1) unputdownable (1)

Sample

Thursday, October 17th

Jam your toast.

6:30am

 

 

I wake up, crying. My fingers are digging into the sheets, and my chest is heaving from my dream. Everything feels off. Wrong. 

My shirt is sweaty and sticking to me. There are tears on my cheeks. 

I wipe them off, upset with myself. 

Because I dreamed about Noah last night. 

And it wasn’t a good dream. 

I shut my eyes, trying to clear the images from my mind. 

I was at Noah’s house. 

I don’t know exactly what we were doing, but we were laughing. He dragged me into his room, pushed me onto his bed, and I thought I knew what was going to happen. We were going to kiss. 

But then the dream changed, and suddenly, I was at school and saw Noah in the hallway. I smiled at him. He smiled back. But instead of stopping to talk to me, he moved past me. I tried to keep up with him, but he kept going into different classrooms. And somehow, all the classrooms connected into a large maze, and I couldn’t keep up with him. Every time I found him, it was like he was gone again, through the next door. I eventually caught him though. I reached out and grabbed his arm. 

Suddenly, we were back in his room. Finally. I can’t remember his words exactly. And I’m not sure we even spoke. But it felt like I heard him. 

Or understood him. 

We were lying in his bed, happy. Noah propped himself up. He pushed my hair behind my ear, but as he did, his smile shifted. 

It lessened. 

It was like he was reflecting on the memory of us. Even looking at me there, right in front of him, he looked nostalgic. 

Like he had moved on. 

Like he had let go of me. 

Like we were already over.

I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, trying to show him that I was still here. I shook him, trying to get him to really look at me. To see me. But his expression didn’t change. His smile slowly faded, and he got out of bed. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. My mouth moved, but no words came out. He couldn’t hear me.

And then Noah left his room. 

I got up to go after him, but when I got to his door, it was locked. I shook the handle over and over, but I couldn’t get out. I was trapped. I tried to scream, but I didn’t have a voice. I slammed against the door, but there was only silence. My fists didn’t make a sound. I started crying. I could feel the tears, I could feel the burning in my throat, but I couldn’t hear myself. I couldn’t hear anything. No one came to the door. 

And then I woke up. 

A shiver rips through me. 

“What the hell?” Mohammad mumbles from the floor. 

I cover my eyes with my hands, trying to forget my dream. 

“You’re soaked through,” he whispers, sliding next to me in bed. 

I glance over to see that Olivia and Naomi are curled up on my other side, still asleep.

“Bad dream,” I reply, trying to shuffle through my thoughts. I need to separate what was real and what was a dream. “A nightmare.”

“Well, you’re okay now. It was just a dream,” he says. 

I nod, pulling my legs up to my chest, and stare at my toes. Mohammad’s right. It was just a dream. I close my eyes, trying to forget the way Noah looked at me and wondering if it was some kind of premonition.

“You’re shaking.” Mohammad pulls me toward him, and I lean my head on his shoulder. 

“I’m cold,” I whisper. 

“Here.” Mohammad pulls up the comforter, covering both of us. “Better?” 

I nod. 

“Was the boogie monster chasing you?” Mohammad asks with a yawn.

“It was terrible. I was locked in a room, and I couldn’t get out,” I reply. “I kept trying … I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t.” A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. 

“It’s all right. It was just a dream,” Mohammad says again, rubbing my shoulder. 

I nod against him, wiping my eyes. 

It was just a dream. 

Mohammad rubs my shoulder for a few minutes before speaking. “Why don’t you go take a shower? You’ll feel better after.” 

“Okay,” I reply. But I don’t move. My chest aches, and my body feels lifeless. 

“What was the dream about?” Mohammad asks.

I swallow, my throat hot and scratchy. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I finally say. 

“Who’s talking over there?” Olivia mumbles from the other side of the bed. Her face is smushed into her pillow, and her blonde hair is everywhere. 

“Sorry,” I whisper. I wipe at my eyes, not wanting them to see me cry. “I’m going to go shower.”

I start to crawl over Mohammad, trying to get out of bed. But he gets up with me and follows me into the bathroom. 

“What was it about?” he asks, closing the door behind us. 

I sit down on the bench as Mohammad turns on the shower. He makes sure a towel is next to it before looking back at me. 

“It was terrible. I couldn’t ever get to him. Over and over, I followed him, and he always slipped out of my fingers. When I finally found him, well, it didn’t matter. I could see it in his eyes. I was a part of his past. And he was happy about it. I wasn’t his future, Mohammad. I wasn’t anything, except a memory that had lingered for too long.” Tears escape my eyes, and I bury my head in my hands. My body shakes as I relive the dream. 

The nightmare. 

“Shh.” Mohammad’s palm finds my back, and he pats it gently. “It’s okay.” 

“But it’s not,” I snap. I look up at him and shake my head. 

“Was it about Noah?” Mohammad asks, his forehead creasing. 

My cheeks flush at his question, but I still nod. 

“You’re not only part of his past,” Mohammad says, crouched in front of me. 

I look down at the floor, embarrassed. 

“You were right. It was just a dream,” I say, looking up to Mohammad. “It was only a dream.”

“I’ll order us food. Then, we can watch the sunrise, okay?” Mohammad puts his hands on my knees and holds my gaze. 

“Sure.” I nod. 

“Take a shower. You’ll feel better. And if not, I’m sure a coffee will cheer you up.” Mohammad gives me an encouraging grin before walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him. 

I sit for a moment, letting the bathroom fill up with steam. When the mirror starts to fog, I peel off my damp clothes and get into the shower. The water is hot against my skin, but it feels nice. I squeeze shower gel into my hand and rub it down over my arms, and then I cradle my arms, comforting myself. 

Because that dream really got to me. 

And normally, they don’t. I know they’re dreams. I know they’re a part of myself. They’re my interpretations, my worries, my insecurities. They’re all about me, coming from me. But in the moment, it didn’t feel like that. It felt like I was going crazy. I felt stuck. 

And I guess, last night, I felt like that with Noah. I felt like we weren’t going anywhere. I felt like he was slipping out of my grasp. 

Again.

I sit down on the shower floor, bringing my knees up to my chest, and let myself cry. I have to get it out now, before I go back out to the girls. To Mohammad. 

Eventually, I stand back up. I feel shaky, but I wash and condition my hair anyway. When I’m finished, I pat myself dry with a towel. 

I brush through my hair and pull on a robe, looking at my reflection.

I look tired. 

I have dark circles under my eyes. 

I break my own gaze, flip off the light switch, and walk out of the bathroom. 

“Mohammad’s ordering breakfast,” Naomi sings when she sees me. She’s sitting up in bed, and she looks wide-awake. 

“Good for him. Some of us are trying to sleep,” Olivia grumbles next to her. She’s curled into a ball in the middle of the bed. And it doesn’t look like she’s going to get up anytime soon. 

“Feel better?” Mohammad asks, joining us in the bedroom. He’s still shirtless and in his basketball shorts, like he was last night. But his shorts are sitting lower on his hips this morning, and he has bedhead. 

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound convincing as I force a smile on my face. 

“Good. Food’s on the way,” he replies, walking back into the sitting room. 

I turn my attention to Naomi. 

Oh my god, she mouths to me, fanning her face. 

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to notice Mohammad was still shirtless this morning. I smile at her just as Mohammad pops his head back in. 

“Come on, you have to come see this.”

Naomi springs out of bed and laces her arm through mine, dragging me into the sitting room. As she does, I look over my shoulder at Olivia, who is still facedown in her pillow. 

I turn my gaze from Olivia toward Mohammad. He’s parting the curtains that run along the entire wall to reveal the pink horizon. 

“Wow,” Naomi breathes out when we get to the sitting room.

We take a few steps closer to the window and look out across the park. It’s aglow in the morning light. 

Pink and perfect. 

Like nothing can taint it. 

And I instantly feel sick. Because all I can think about is my dream. About Noah. And how wrong it is that in the midst of this beauty, my heart aches. 

Naomi releases me and presses her palms against the window. 

“It’s stunning,” she gasps, turning to me brightly. 

I force back tears. 

“It is,” I agree. 

I wrap my arms around my waist, holding on to myself. 

“This is mad. Who knew the sky could look like this?” Mohammad says, walking over to me. 

He drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me to him. I wrap my arm around his waist and let out a deep breath. Mohammad stands strong and firm, and I fold into him. He exudes energy and warmth, and I know that I need some of both this morning. So, I let myself relax in his embrace.

“Come on, Naomi,” I say. She’s still plastered against the window, looking out in awe. “You’re missing out.” 

“On what?” she replies, not breaking her gaze from the window. 

“On our moment.” 

When she turns to look at me and Mohammad, I wave for her to join us. She comes to stand on the opposite side of Mohammad, lacing an arm around his waist. He puts his arm over her shoulder, so we’re all three wrapped up together. Naomi tickles against my arm and gives me a warm grin. 

I smile back at her before looking out at the horizon. At the rising sun. 

I take in the color of the sky. The love I feel, holding on to Mohammad. The happiness that Naomi radiates.

And it’s perfect. 

“I feel like someone should wake up Olivia for this. She’s missing out,” I say, feeling better. 

One glance up at Mohammad reveals a wide grin on his face. His eyes flick down to meet mine before he looks over at Naomi. 

“Haven’t you heard the expression, Don’t wake the sleeping beast?” Naomi giggles. “If you’re going to wake her, you’re on your own for it.” 

Mohammad lets out an easy laugh. 

“Not a morning person?” I ask. 

“She only becomes a morning person when there’s food involved. It’s a general rule that I don’t wake her without the promise of food arriving soon.” 

“Well,” I say, unwrapping myself from around Mohammad, “I think I’ll chance it. It’s too beautiful for her to miss.” 

I walk into the bedroom, leaving Mohammad and Naomi alone. She still has her arms wrapped around his waist. I smile at them before turning my attention to Olivia. 

One glance at her in bed shows she’s back asleep. 

I walk to the window, peeking out. It’s the same view as the sitting room and equally as beautiful. I drop the curtain, letting the sliver of pink light disappear.

“Olivia,” I whisper, crawling next to her in bed. 

She stirs, letting out a quiet groan. 

“I know that you’re sleepy, but the sunrise this morning is worth waking up for. I promise.” I tentatively place my hand on her shoulder, wondering if she’s going to wake up and start swatting at me. But before I have a chance to think better, I shake her gently, hoping to ease her awake. 

“Go away.” She bats her hand out at me, rolling in the opposite direction. 

I lay my head back against the headboard with a smile. 

“Not a chance. You won’t win this one.” I laugh. 

“Have you met me?” she mumbles back, sounding more awake.

“Have you met me?” I question. 

She peeks over her shoulder at me, looking annoyed. “Fucking Americans. You never quit,” she mutters. But at the same time, she sits up. 

And I know that I’ve won. 

“We do have a never-quit spirit,” I agree, perking up. 

“Where are Naomi and Mohammad?” she asks, glancing over to me. 

“Watching the sunrise in the other room. It’s slightly romantic.”

“That is romantic,” she says groggily. “And you want to interrupt it?” 

“It’s actually the same view from the window in here. I just figured I should let you wake up before pulling the curtains open.” 

“Smart decision.” Olivia rubs her hands across her face. She blinks a few times, looking more awake. “All right, let’s see it.” 

We both slide off the bed and move to the window. Olivia sits cross-legged on the floor as I pull back the curtains. She closes her eyes briefly at the light, but they slowly flutter back open. 

“Wow,” she exhales. 

“I know.” 

I sit down next to her on the floor, both of us looking out at the skyline. We sit in silence, watching the sky turn from a light-cotton-candy pink to a deeper shade of purple. It’s mesmerizing in its innocence. 

In its newness. 

The entire day is awaiting us, and it makes me grateful that I’m sitting here, experiencing this with Olivia. 

I glance to her. 

“Thank you for being there for me this week. Letting me sit with you at lunch. The birthday party last night … I really appreciate it,” I tell her. 

Because Olivia has been by my side since the moment she told me what Noah said to Harry. 

That he loved me. 

Maybe that’s when she finally realized that I wasn’t trying to steal Harry from her. That I wasn’t playing some game. 

Harry. Noah. Olivia. Me. 

It’s all just been a collection of events and moments that wound us up together and somehow resulted in one big, complicated disaster. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve been through a lot together,” she reflects. “Plus, Naomi always gets what she wants. And she wanted us to be friends …” 

“It always surprises me how much you own up to these things,” I say, knowing that’s probably the best I’m going to get from Olivia. 

Olivia lets out a laugh. “What can I say? Naomi’s my best friend. Her opinion matters to me. And usually, she’s right. So …” Olivia shrugs. 

“She does always provide unique insight.”

A knock comes from the other side of the hotel room door, and I listen as either Naomi or Mohammad answers it. A few seconds later, Mohammad pops his head into the bedroom. 

“Food’s here,” he says excitedly. 

He quickly leaves us and starts talking to whom I assume is room service. Olivia stands up, pulling me with her. We both go into the sitting room, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. 

“Yum.” My mouth waters at the scent. 

And the thought of some caffeine. 

Mohammad rolls the cart toward the couch with a wide grin. 

“It smells amazing,” Naomi says, falling down onto the couch. And she’s glowing.

I raise an eyebrow at her, wondering if it’s the food she’s flushed about or the fact that Mohammad is pretty much serving her breakfast, shirtless. She just grins back as I walk over to the cart. 

It’s loaded with toast, jam, butter, and honey. There are eggs, meat, and tomatoes. But there’s also a single sliced banana on a plate with a cup of almond butter sitting next to it. I blink, wondering if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

“Mohammad, how did you know?” I ask, looking between him and the banana. 

“I’m your best friend. It’s my job to know,” he replies proudly. 

My mouth slips open as I stare at the banana. Because the only person who knows that my favorite breakfast is toast with almond butter, honey, and banana on top is Noah. 

And Noah isn’t here. 

I’m not at his house, having him make this for me. 

I’m with Mohammad and the girls at a hotel. 

“But …” I start. 

“Know what?” Naomi asks with interest from the couch.

“What her favorite breakfast is,” Mohammad says brightly, handing me a piece of toast. 

“What’s your favorite breakfast?” Olivia asks, grabbing jam and a slice of toast for herself. 

“Um, I really like toast with almond butter, banana, and honey,” I explain.

“That sounds disgusting.” Olivia laughs, her nose scrunching up. She pours herself a cup of coffee from the pot and takes her plate and cup over to the dining table. 

“You have no idea,” Naomi says from the couch. “When I slept over the other week, she and Noah were eating these bananas he’d sautéed on the stove without anything else! It was mad.” 

“Hey,” I cut in, eyeing her. “You ate some too. And if I remember correctly, you liked it.” 

“I was being polite,” Naomi disagrees. 

I raise an eyebrow at her as she takes a sip of her tea. 

“Fine, it wasn’t the worst thing. But it was still strange,” she admits. 

“Noah’s like that with his food,” Mohammad says, dumping eggs and sausage onto his plate. He puts two pieces of toast on either side of the mound, like they might somehow hold it all in. 

I watch him in amazement. 

He glances at me excitedly. But when he sees the toast he gave me still in my hand, he looks confused. I set it down on a plate and look across the spread again, trying to decide what I want. 

“Mohammad, would you mind putting jam on a piece of toast for me, please?” Naomi asks. 

“I would love to jam your toast,” Mohammad replies with a smirk.

My mouth practically hits the floor with his response. 

Because he did not just say that! 

Mohammad’s eyes are sparkling, and I watch him slide jam across a piece of toast, looking way too happy about it. I glance over at Naomi, wanting to know what she makes of the situation. But she doesn’t seem to have noticed his play on words. 

“Mohammad …” Olivia coughs, setting down her cup of coffee. 

She rubs at her temples, looking weirded out. And part of me is right there with her. 

I shake my head and refocus on breakfast. I start to build my toast, watching as Mohammad takes their plates to the couch. He hands Naomi hers first, and she grins up at him. He smiles and then sits down. A second later though, he’s inhaling his food. 

I shake my head again, looking back down at the cart. I end up making a variation of my almond butter and banana toast. I decide to put the almond butter directly on the banana instead, and then I jam the toast, topping it with eggs. 

I don’t know why I force myself to make it differently, but I do. It’s probably because Noah told Mohammad it’s what I like. And for some reason, knowing that he told Mohammad but isn’t here himself … well, it makes me want eggs on my toast instead. 

After breakfast, Mohammad goes to shower while Naomi, Olivia, and I drink our coffee and tea. Mohammad doesn’t take very long, and when he joins us again, he’s in his uniform. I check the time, seeing we don’t have that long before we need to head to school. 

“I’m going to go change.”

I put my empty plate back on the cart as I head into the closet. I change quickly, and when I join them again, Naomi and Olivia are both in my bedroom. 

“Bloody hell. I forgot my skirt,” Olivia says, shoving her pajamas into her duffel with force. She has on her uniform top and jeans. 

“Do you want to borrow one?” I offer. 

“Thanks, but I need to stop by my house anyway. I forgot my yoga gear as well,” she replies, flaring her eyes.

Naomi presses her lips together before pulling out her phone and checking the time. 

“If we leave right now, we won’t be late,” Naomi says, collecting her things. She puts everything into a large tote before pulling it onto her shoulder. 

“All right,” Olivia agrees, opening up the bedroom door. She grabs her bags before putting on her coat and walking out into the sitting room with Naomi. 

I glance around the bedroom, looking for my bag for school. I finally find it under a pillow that got tossed onto the floor. My room’s a disaster from the festivities last night, but the mess will have to wait until later. I remember what Olivia said about yoga and make sure to throw in my change of clothes for class.

“What’s up?” Mohammad asks Naomi and Olivia when I get into the sitting room. He already wheeled the dining cart out into the hallway and is standing with his backpack in hand. 

“I need to stop by my house,” Olivia answers, raising her eyebrows. She looks annoyed with herself. 

“Gotcha. We will have to meet you at school. Mia wanted to show me something before class,” Mohammad says as I grab my coat. 

“Mia?” I ask, confused.

“I didn’t know you and Mia were friends,” Naomi chimes in as we make our way to the door. 

I check my bag, making sure I have my phone, room key, and homework. 

“She knows I’m the hottest DJ in town. Wanted to show me a new artist,” Mohammad boasts. 

“Hottest DJ?” I question, grinning at him. 

“You know I am. Besides, if I recall, you’ve danced many a dances to songs I’ve selected. So, really, all your fun has been because of me and my brilliant music selection,” he says, opening the door for us. 

“Sorry I suggested differently.” I chuckle. 

“Anyway, we’ll just see you at school then?” Mohammad asks, looking directly at Naomi.

“Yeah.” She flushes, looking down at the floor with a smile. “See you at school.” 

“Cool,” Mohammad says, looking a little red himself. 

He awkwardly glances at Naomi and then away from her as we wait for the elevator. I look between them and have to bite my lip to keep from cooing. I notice Olivia watching them too. But instead of looking happy, she looks almost spooked by their interaction. 

When the elevator dings, I’m pretty sure I hear Olivia mumble, “Finally.” 

 

“Hey!” I call out to Mia when we get to the common room at school. 

“Ah, you’re here!” she says, rushing toward me and Mohammad. She gives me a quick hug and nods at Mohammad. 

“Your hair is still purple,” I say, looking her over. “Helen must have given in?” 

Mia grins. “Noah guilted her into letting me keep it. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Wicked,” Mohammad says, taking in her hair. 

“It is,” I agree. “So, what’s going on? Mohammad said you messaged him about music?” 

“My friend Aaron is a fantastic artist. He’s going to release his first album next month, and he sent me a few of his songs early. You have to hear them! He’s ridiculously talented,” she says, dragging me to the couch. 

I glance back at Mohammad. He gives me a smile and looks genuinely interested. 

It’s not until Mia’s pulling me down onto a couch next to her that I see Noah. He’s seated opposite us, his left leg crossed over his right. I barely have a chance to register his presence before Mia is shoving an earbud into my ear. She puts the other in hers, turning toward me excitedly. 

“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” she asks. 

At first, I want to laugh, but she looks so serious that my smile fades, and I nod in agreement. She turns on the music, and I make sure to really pay attention. 

My first thought is that Aaron has got a great voice and that I like his style—a mix of rap and pop. I bob my head along, smiling over at Mia in encouragement. She’s silently singing along, and I watch her lips move with each lyric. I smile at her again before glancing across to the other couch. 

Mohammad sat down next to Noah, but their attention is on us. Mohammad is watching Mia. Noah keeps his head straight, his eyes moving between me and his sister. Every few seconds though, he leans toward Mohammad, telling him something. 

I pull my eyes away from them. 

After three songs, I take out the earbud and give it back to Mia. 

“It’s really good,” I admit. 

“I know.” Mia nods, her eyes glowing with pride. “He’s so talented. A true storyteller.” 

“I like the way that he mixes genres too. It’s cool to hear that.”

“That’s what Noah said,” Mia replies, her eyes moving to her brother and then to Mohammad, who’s getting up from the couch. 

He comes over and pulls me up. 

“Trade spots. I want to hear,” he says, taking my seat on the couch. “I’m always looking for new music.” 

“You and your music,” I comment, feeling slightly abandoned. I consider just standing there, but I know that would be silly. And it would probably freak him and Mia out.

I turn around, eyeing the empty spot next to Noah. It’s the obvious option unless I want to move to a different section, which would just be weird. 

Noah looks up at me, waiting to see what I’ll do. 

I step away from Mohammad and Mia and take a seat next to him. I look across at Mohammad, who’s totally into the music. Mia looks thrilled, and when I glance over at Noah, I see that he’s watching Mohammad too. He lets out a chuckle before greeting me. 

“Morning,” Noah says with a smile. 

“Morning.” My voice is full of hesitation as I fold my hands into my lap. 

I keep my gaze down, trying to ignore the heat coming off of Noah. It’s hard enough, sitting next to him in class, but sitting next to him on the couch? It’s even worse. We’re closer than usual. And after being pressed against him last night and my dream this morning … 

“You all right?” Noah asks, his hand coming down onto my arm. I glance over at it, feeling his fingers burn into my skin. “You don’t look very good.” 

I break my eyes away from his fingertips, moving them toward his face. 

“Oh, really?” I ask. 

Noah shakes his head. “I mean, you look tired,” he clarifies. 

“I am. Late night and all that.” 

“That’s not it,” he disagrees. 

He searches my face, his forehead creasing. I try to hide from his prying eyes, but I can’t. My face falls. I know he isn’t going to drop this. 

“I had a nightmare,” I say. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks. And I can hear the concern in his voice. 

I glance around, seeing more students pouring into the common room. And with Mia and Mohammad sitting straight across from us, I feel like I’m under a microscope. 

“Not right now.” 

Noah must understand because he gives me a small smile. I want to smile back, but instead, I look down at my hands in my lap. Because every single cell in me is confused. 

Noah bumps his shoulder against mine. “We can talk anytime, you know. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” I repeat. Because is that what last night was to him?

Us being friends?

“I know what your problem is,” he says. 

“You do?” I ask, looking toward him. Because maybe he actually has the answer that I’m looking for. 

“Mmhmm.” Noah nods. “You’re missing the battle of the bathroom, I think.” 

His brown eyes are all over me, making me extremely nervous. 

“I can’t do this with you, Noah.” 

“Do what?” he asks. 

“This.” I point between him and me, shaking my head. 

I’ve never felt so … off. After last night’s interaction with Noah and my dream, I don’t know if I want to smile at him or start crying. My emotions are everywhere right now. I feel all over the place.

I feel like a mess. 

Noah watches my hand move between us, his golden-brown eyes growing flat. 

“Are you trying to say that the battle of the bathroom wasn’t a thing?” he finally asks. 

His response lessens my tension, and suddenly, my chest feels lighter. 

Because this—here, with Noah, the lightness between us—is real. 

I roll my eyes at him and play along. “Please. Competing for bathroom time with you is the last thing I miss about your house.” 

“Maybe so,” he replies, leaning toward me. “But I know you have to miss seeing me in only a towel.” 

I can’t help but feel happy when I see the sparkle in Noah’s eyes and the silly grin on his face. He raises his eyebrows at me in question. 

“Noah. Williams.”

“Yeah?” he replies, his gaze never leaving mine. 

“Are you flirting with me?” I narrow my eyes at him.

Noah shakes his head, but it isn’t convincing. And his silly smile turns into a full-blown grin. He lets out a deep chuckle. “Never. I wouldn’t dare.” 

I feel stuck, looking at him. I can’t imagine what my face looks like right now, but it has to be a funny sight to see. I’m so confused. And annoyed. And kind of happy. And annoyed that I’m happy. A smile grows on my own lips. 

“You are.” I laugh. 

I give his shoulder a push, my cheeks flushing before I glance over at Mohammad and Mia. They’re watching us, but the second I catch them, they quickly look away. 

“And if I am? Is that really so bad?” Noah looks at me through his dark lashes, his neck jutting out as he tilts his head back. 

And I know the look well. It’s his are you really going to argue with me look. 

“Um …”

“Besides, I’m not flirting. I’m just telling you a truth from our past experience.” 

“Why bring it up then?” I cut in. 

“Because you looked sad when you got here. And you always look happy when you’re yelling at me. Banging on the bathroom door. Calling out my name.” His voice drops as his eyes flick up to mine. “Finding me shirtless … and wet.” 

I think my heart stops. Or maybe it rips out of my chest and flees. Or maybe it hops straight into his hand. I have no clue. All I know is that my chest feels like it just broke open and my heart has left me. 

Practically flew out of me. 

Because Noah isn’t just flirting with me. He’s majorly flirting with me. And right here, in front of his sister. His sister!

And Mohammad. 

He’s gone from joking and occasionally flirting to something way different. 

He’s being unfair. And direct. And hot. 

Really, really hot. 

And I am not about to question it. 

“You really think you have such a huge effect on me, don’t you?” I say, trying to keep my cool. 

“I know I do.” Noah’s eyes crease at the corners as he smiles. “You know what I was thinking about?” 

“What?” 

“Do you remember me mauling you that one day?” he says, his cheeks flushing.

“Almost mauling me,” I correct. “I made it out, unscathed.” 

Noah nods. “That’s true. I know you liked it though.” 

“What exactly did I like about it?” I push, thinking back to how Noah’s head was tucked into my neck. How his breath was warm and his teeth were all over my skin.

“Being slobbered on.” Noah laughs. 

My lips pull into an amused frown, and I shake my head. “You’re disgusting.” 

“Whatever I am, you love it.” 

Noah holds my gaze, and it feels like the whole world is looking back at me in his eyes. And I don’t understand it. How is this possible? What’s going on with him? With me? With us? 

“What happened to you between last night and now?” I ask, trying to figure out the change. 

“Well, you asked—” Noah says, sounding unsure of himself. 

I cut him off, “It’s a good thing.” 

“It’s what you want, right?” Noah’s brows draw in with his question. 

“Is it what you want?” I ask. 

“This, with you, is easy. It’s the friends part that I might have a bit of trouble with,” Noah answers. 

“Being friends is asking too much?” 

“Too much?” Noah repeats, blinking a few times. But then he refocuses. “Did you … like my gift?” 

“I wish you had stayed.” 

“Stayed?” Noah repeats, looking more cheerful again. “You had a pretty full house, birthday girl.” 

“Full hotel room,” I correct. “But what does that have to do with it?” 

“Some things are private,” Noah says. 

The school bell rings out, cutting off our conversation. 

Mohammad pulls the earbud out of his ear, nodding his head. 

“So, are you into it?” Mia asks him excitedly. 

“Totally,” Mohammad says, still tapping his foot on the ground. “He’s got some great tracks.” 

“Well, he’s got a gig in a few weeks. We should all go,” Mia says, looking between the three of us. “It’s at a shit place, and we’ll probably be the only ones there, but seriously, he’s going to be a star someday.” 

“I’m so down,” Mohammad agrees, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. 

Mia and Noah are both looking at me, apparently waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” I reply. 

“Great.” Mia grins, shoving her phone into her bag. She’s glowing, and it’s easy to tell she’s happy about other people liking his music. “I can’t wait.” 

“It will be fun,” Noah agrees, glancing at me as we walk to class. 

 

Weasel my way.

Statistics

 

 

“So, if I had been alone, what would it have been like?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. 

Because Noah is so talkative and flirty this morning that I’m hoping he can clarify a few things from last night. A few things from this morning. Like what he meant by privacy. We were alone out in the hallway last night. 

Was that not private enough? 

“We would have … celebrated,” he replies, sliding into his regular desk. 

I drop my bag onto the ground and look at him. “My birthday?”

“Of course.” Noah laughs. 

I shake my head at myself. Of course he meant my birthday. 

What was I thinking?

It’s just that something about him is making me nervous. Usually, I’m relaxed with him. We’ve always been able to talk. We’ve never set boundaries because I never thought that they were necessary. But now, I feel like I’m floating in a pool of whens and ifs. There are too many paths, outcomes, possibilities. And the probability of what is going to happen is so unclear. 

I flip open my stats textbook, my hate for the subject returning. 

“What?” Noah asks. 

“I just feel aimless this week. Like I don’t know up from down,” I admit. 

“All you have to do is check your feet,” he quips. 

“I can’t look at my feet,” I say to my textbook. “I’m distracted. And confused.” 

“By me?” Noah asks. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“I can’t be your fixed point, Mal,” he says, drawing my eyes up from my textbook. 

“I’m not asking you to be.” 

“Even if I wanted to be, you have to find your own footing first.”

I swallow. Because he’s right. I know he’s right. “It’s just—” 

“You’re a romantic,” Noah finishes. 

“I am not,” I say way too fast, feeling like my eyes are about to pop out of my head. 

“You are. And you’re flushed again.” Noah’s holding back his smile as he looks toward me.

“And you’re annoying,” I reply. “I hate to break it to you, but you are not about to weasel your way back into my life, okay? You made it very clear this week how you felt about me. And you made it very clear last night that you didn’t—” 

Noah doesn’t let me finish. “Weasel my way back in?” 

“Yes. Weasel. Your. Way. Back. In.” I point my finger at him with each word for emphasis. 

Noah licks his lip as he watches me, and it breaks my concentration. It sends a small crack through my frustration. I don’t know why his mouth always catches my attention or why I find so much interest in his lips. Their shape. Their color. 

“And I …”

“Don’t get distracted,” Noah says quietly.

“I’m not,” I reply, trying to collect myself. 

Trying to remember what I was even saying. 

“You were,” Noah disagrees, shaking his head. “But I’ll let this one slide.”

“What do you want?” 

“I want to know if you thought about me over the weekend,” he says.

“You never crossed my mind.” I stick my chin out at him, willing my eyes to become glass. To become impenetrable. 

“I don’t believe that,” Noah says, his eyes growing playful. 

“You can believe what you want.” I cross my arms over my chest in defense. “Your beliefs don’t bother me.” 

“Hmm.” Noah pushes out his lips, seemingly not convinced. 

“What did you think? That I was just lying in bed, dreaming about you? Yeah, right.” 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Noah says, looking me over. “You know I can see right through you.” 

“I’m not lying.”

“And I’m not Noah,” he deadpans back. 

“And does Noah have a point?” 

Noah’s face shifts, his expression growing serious. “I wondered what your thoughts were this weekend. That’s it.” 

And it kills me that he pronounced weekend like it was two separate words. He slowly drew it out.

The words. 

His statement. 

Everything about Noah is slow and decisive. 

“I thought about a lot of things,” I say as the tardy bell goes off. 

Mr. Johnson passes out an assignment for us to work on during class. 

“So, you thought about your time here?” Noah asks, apparently not done with the conversation. 

“Yeah.” 

“What about that time you saw me naked?” Noah whispers. 

“Mostly naked,” I clarify. 

“Did you think about that?” 

“Of course not.” 

“What about when you sat on my lap in bed?” he asks, his eyes finding mine. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

“It didn’t come to my mind.” 

“What about yesterday? You asked me about … wings.” 

“Consider it irrelevant. Nothing will change things,” I say, shaking my head. 

“And what about last night?” 

I suck in an unsteady breath, not sure what last night meant. The sweats. The tears. The dream. The … hug. 

“I don’t know, Noah. Do you?” 

Noah bites the inside of his cheek, his lips pulling to the side. “Well, what about the thought of having me fully? Now that you’re staying.” Noah’s brows weave together in uncertainty. 

My mouth slips open at the thought of having Noah. Fully having him. 

I can’t even imagine it. 

“It hasn’t crossed my mind,” I say back. 

“Pity.” 

“Is it? Why would I want someone who only wants me because it’s convenient?” I growl. 

“I wouldn’t call these circumstances convenient,” Noah says, exasperated. 

“What would you call them?” 

“Predetermined,” Noah replies. 

I raise my eyebrows at him before pulling my attention back to our assignment. 

I keep my head down and focus on the assignment—and not Noah—until the bell goes off. I look up as it rings out, not sure how that even happened. It felt like we were only in class for maybe fifteen minutes. I close my textbook, putting it into my bag. 

“I can see that you’re frustrated. You’ve got a lot of tension in you,” Noah says as we walk out of class. 

“Is it that obvious?” I ask as I make my way to my locker. 

“Yes. It’s very clear. Especially when you spend the entire class ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” 

“No?”

“No. And no amount of flirting or teasing me is going to change that.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re tense,” Noah says, his hands coming down onto my shoulders. He rubs his thumbs into my skin, quickly finding a knot. 

A moan escapes my mouth. Noah’s hands on me feel amazing, and I have to focus all of my energy on not letting my eyes roll back. 

“See,” he says, spinning me around to face him. “Two seconds with my hands on you, and you’ve already loosened up.” 

“That little nervous knot was put there by you!” I try not to shout. 

Noah grins. “Nervous knot. I like that. I might have to start calling you my nervous knot.” He’s beaming, and it makes it hard not to smile back at him.

“It’s kind of fitting,” I agree with a laugh. 

But then I catch myself. 

“This nervous knot is fine on her own. Okay? Like you said, stand on my own feet.” 

“I know what I said. But think about it, Mal. Two seconds with my hands on you, and your eyes are rolling. Imagine what might happen if you gave me a few more seconds. Or minutes even. I think I could work out a lot of that tension,” Noah says, towering in front of me. 

“In my shoulders?” 

“To start with.”