The Boys' Club Page 2

  Mohammad’s right. I care about them both too much to ruin their friendship.

  “Good,” he states with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry. I just got worried.”

  “I know. They’re your best friends,” I reply, not sure what else to say.

  “You’re my friend too, Mallory. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up you leaving.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, swallowing hard. “It’s the truth.”

  “It won’t change our friendship though. You’ll have to come visit over the holidays. The boys’ club won’t be the same without our main girl,” he says, sounding happier.

  I push out a little laugh. I want to be optimistic, but the thought of leaving has my stomach in knots. “Hey, on a side note, have you talked to Sarah at all?”

  “Nah,” he says.

  “Couldn’t keep your interest?” I ask, thinking back to the party Wednesday night.

  “Like I said, I’m not looking for anything but fun,” he replies. And I swear I can hear him grinning through the phone.

  “Always on the hunt.” I laugh.

  “Exactly. Maybe I need to have a chat with Noah. Sounds like he’s got some good moves on how to get a girl … worked up.”

  “I’ll never live this moment down, will I?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, thanks for the advice anyway. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

  “Anytime,” he says, hanging up.

  I throw myself onto the bed, trying to decide what to do. After talking with Mohammad, I just feel more confused. I can’t do anything about what Noah said, except ignore it. I have to pretend that he never said it and hope that’s the end of it.

  I mean, it’s not like he sat me down, took my hands in his, and romantically professed his love for me. He made it a joke, a game even. I’m sure he wasn’t even being serious about it.

  I think about what Mohammad said.

  About telling Noah.

  I probably should. But at the same time, why should I have to? Is it my job to police their friendship? I don’t need to take what he said so literally.

  Besides, maybe he was still sleepy.

  Or he was just teasing.

  Or maybe I’m just telling myself that.

  I decide what I need to do is stop thinking, so I get up off the bed and go down for some breakfast. I’ll scope things out and see how Noah acts.

  Maybe I will casually slide the fact that I’m dating Harry into a conversation, and Noah won’t blink an eye, sparing us both the awkwardness.

  But the idea of telling him sends a pain through my chest. One that I can’t dwell on.

  “Morning,” I greet, walking into the kitchen to find Gene making toast.

  Helen is sitting at the table, the newspaper held open in her hands.

  “Morning,” Gene replies, looking over his shoulder at me.

  “How’d you sleep, dear?” Helen asks, smiling at me over the top of the paper.

  I flash my eyes at her, hoping she isn’t trying to catch me lying about sneaking out front the night before.

  I mean, it’s not like I really went anywhere, but I don’t know if they would be upset about me having a midnight visitor.

  “Soundly,” I reply, nodding my head. My lips are pulled into a smile, and I do my best to look convincing.

  “Good.” Gene smiles. “A good night’s sleep is always important.”

  I nod my head some more.

  “You seemed tired last night,” Helen comments. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

  “Me too.”

  The timer on the toaster goes off, and Gene turns, withdrawing his toast.

  “Care for some?” he asks, placing jam and butter on the kitchen table.

  “That sounds great. Thanks,” I reply, putting water into the kettle. I turn it on to boil and grab the French press. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

  Well, more so me coffee, but I know Helen will have a cup. When the kettle rings out, I pour grounds into the press, add in the water, and place it on the table to steep.

  “Here’s your toast,” Gene says, setting a plate in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I reply, reaching for the jam.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I got almond butter and bananas from the shop,” Helen says with excitement.

  I drop the spoon back into the jam, turning my head toward her. “Really?” I ask, shocked.

  Because she’s either psychic and as powerful as Mohammad previously suggested that moms are or …

  “Noah had mentioned it.” She smiles, taking in my surprise.

  My mind flits back to our conversation, about how Noah told me I didn’t need to worry about that stuff. To just ask.

  “That was really thoughtful of him,” I admit. Because it was. But as the words come out of my mouth, all I can hear in my head is Mohammad’s voice scolding me. I push it away, focusing back on Helen and Gene.

  “He’s not always the most obvious in showing he cares. But Noah can be quite thoughtful in his actions.” Helen smiles warmly.

  “He’s always been about the small things,” Gene agrees, nodding.

  The small things.

  “That does sound like Noah,” I admit, trying to stop feeling so uncomfortable. “I think he probably is the most thoughtful person I know.”

  “He’s good about figuring out what you need,” Gene replies, buttering his toast as I go to the pantry, pulling out the new jar of almond butter and one of the bananas, taking them back to the table.

  “So, what’s on the agenda today?” Helen asks, stealing a bite of Gene’s toast.

  The toast reminds me of the night I spent at Harry’s.

  Lying in bed with Noah and Harry, eating and talking.

  Waking up the next morning, wrapped up in Harry’s arms.

  I instantly flush, thankful Helen isn’t as powerful as Mohammad believes and can’t read my mind.

  “Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “I have a ton of homework and studying. Tomorrow is my Latin test, and our statistics project is due. And Tuesday, my art project.” I open up the jar of almond butter, sliding a spoonful across my toast.

  “Were you taking Latin at your school in New York?” Gene asks.

  I shake my head. “No. I was—am in French. So, I’m doing my best to follow along. Mohammad has actually been a big help.”

  I cut up the banana, putting it on top of the almond butter, and drizzle some honey on it.

  I take my first bite, my eyes practically rolling in pleasure at the deliciousness.

  “Mohammad’s never been the most driven student. I’m glad he’s been able to help you,” Helen confides.

  “Me too. I was also considering taking your advice. I think I might reach out to Naomi today. See if she might be interested in hanging out.”

  “Oh,” Helen coos, rising up from the table, dropping her newspaper. She walks around, pulling me into a hug. “That’s wonderful,” she tells me, obviously having a proud mom moment.

  I can’t help but smile and hug her back.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, pulling away.

  Gene’s looking at us, confused. He just sighs before his eyes land on the French press. He pours two cups of coffee, handing one to Helen and me, before clearing his plate.

  “Have you seen Noah this morning?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yep, I did.” Unfortunately. “I saw him in the bathroom. He is up and at least has brushed his teeth.”

  “Probably playing those video games,” he mutters.

  “He deserves a little down time, doesn’t he?” Helen asks, pointing her gaze at Gene.

  I sit back, remaining quiet, not wanting to get involved.

  “He does,” Gene concedes, his lips pulling into a straight line.

  “Don’t worry. After breakfast, I’ll have him start on his homework, so you two can get to the pub this afternoon.” Helen smiles, and Gene’s face softens as he places his hands on her shoulders, kissing her head.

  “What was that about?” I ask after Gene’s moved out of the kitchen.

  “Oh,” Helen says, swatting her hand through the air, “it’s nothing. I think Gene just misses spending time with Noah. And with Mia gone, he’s probably more aware of it. They typically spend Sunday afternoon watching football at the pub.”

  “That’s nice they’re able to spend time together,” I admit, my face softening.

  “It’s very important,” Helen agrees. “Family is everything.”

  “Helen, can I ask you about Harry?” I say, my mind flicking back to him.

  Helen pulls in her cheeks, her gaze slipping down to her coffee in front of her. “What do you want to know?”

  “What is going to be done about … it?”

  “Did Harry tell you anything yesterday?” She sighs, and I sense she’s not sure what to say. She doesn’t want to betray Harry’s confidence, and I hope that’s not what I’m asking her to do.

  “Things after Noah’s game yesterday were terrible, honestly. Harry told everyone he got into a fight. I was so upset about everything. I couldn’t stand to listen to him lie. But then we talked later, and he told me that he was sorry. That he didn’t know what else to do. He said that you two are going to talk to his mom.”

  “That about covers it. Harry called last night when Gene and I were out. He called his mom yesterday and asked her to come home. He’s going to let me know when she’s there, so we can all talk.”

  I nod, feeling surprised. Why didn’t Harry tell me last night that he had called his mom? Why am I finding out today from Helen?

  But I guess the better question is, why am I asking Helen and not Harry?

  I let out a heavy breath, realizing this is exactly why I didn’t want
to be Harry’s girlfriend yet. We’re close, but there are always things I feel like I don’t know. Things that he hasn’t kept from me but hasn’t shared either.

  “I’m glad you two made up. You seemed … worn down last night,” Helen adds, sensing my distress.

  “I am too. Harry’s important to me.”

  Helen nods, pulling her newspaper back up in front of her, our conversation apparently over.

  I clear off my plate and then go upstairs and give Harry a call. But first, I text Mohammad, asking for Naomi’s number. A second later, he replies, so I add her as a contact and open up a new text.

  Me: Hey, Naomi. It’s Mallory from school. Look, I really could use a day out of the house and some girl time. I’m down for anything. Any ideas?

  I hit Send, hoping that she’ll take pity on me and reply.

  While I wait for Naomi to hopefully respond, I decide I’ll call Harry.

  I hope he isn’t home alone, dreading the conversation to come with his mom.

  “Hello?” Harry answers.

  “Hi.” I smile into the phone. “How are you?” I ask, relieved to hear his voice.

  “I’m good. Just at the house.”

  “Not with Mohammad?” I ask, wanting him to be the one to tell me.

  “Nah. Apparently, Mum’s coming home from her trip today. Figured I should be home when she gets here.”

  “Do you want me to come by?” I ask, wanting to support him.

  I can hear Harry breathe into the phone, but then he responds, “No. I need to do this on my own.”

  “All right,” I say, trying not to sound hurt.

  “You wanted to be here for me,” he says, and I can hear the happiness in his voice.

  “Of course I did. You can depend on me, Harry.”

  After last night, I want things to be different with us. I want him to depend on me more, to really let me in.

  “I know, babe,” Harry replies. “Your support, it means a lot.”

  “Good.” I smile. “If you need anything, just let me know, all right? And I’ll be there.”

  “How about I ring you tonight? Let you know how things go?”

  I grin, feeling my heart practically burst with his words. “I would really love that.”

  “You’re so chuffed,” he says, laughing into the phone.

  “Of course I am happy. I’m talking to you. Harry, can I ask you something personal?”

  “What?” Harry responds.

  “Are you scared?”

  I’m hoping he doesn’t take the question the wrong way.

  He’s quiet for a moment, but he finally says, “I’m not scared. But I don’t know how things are going to go either.”

  “At least Helen will be there with you,” I say, wanting to comfort him.

  “Yeah, I’m hoping she does most of the talking. But even if not, I’m sure Mum will put two and two together when she sees my face,” he says, his voice straining.

  “It’s going to be hard, Harry. But you can do this. I promise. I-I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now.” I feel my stomach start to knot up.

  “Yeah. Mohammad wasn’t too happy about me leaving his place this morning. Everyone just seems so concerned for me. It’s freaking me out a bit. I wish everyone would just act normal.”

  “It’s because we all care, Harry. But how about a new topic? You know, I was thinking the other day, there’s this super-cute boy I’m dating. And you see, I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever going to ask me out for a hot date night or if I’m going to have to ask him out myself.”

  I smile to myself, hoping he appreciates the change of conversation.

  “Really …” Harry starts, almost sounding taken aback. But I can already tell he’s going along with it. “What a silly man, leaving a woman floundering like that. I can’t believe that he hasn’t taken you out on a proper date yet! What would you say, by chance, if he asked you out for Tuesday night?”

  “I think I would probably ask him what he had in mind,” I reply, laughing. And I silently cheer for myself.

  Because Helen would be proud that I’m making him work for it. Honestly, I would be happy, sitting and just talking with Harry, but maybe this will give him something else to think about. Something to look forward to.

  “Maybe he wants to surprise you,” Harry coos.

  “Or maybe he needs time to come up with a date idea,” I counter.

  “No. It couldn’t be.” He tries to sound convincing but just ends up laughing.

  “I thought not,” I reply, laughing along with him. “Harry, I appreciate you talking to me. Being open. I’m really looking forward to our date.”

  “I am too,” he admits. “What do you have going on today?”

  “Homework, homework, and some more homework. I need to study for Latin and finish a statistics project.”

  “You’ll ace it, babe.”

  “I think you have unfounded faith in me,” I reply, knowing I will definitely not ace it.

  “Just ask Noah to do it for you. He’s too smart in maths to keep that shit to himself. I’m sure he’ll help,” Harry tells me.

  “Yeah,” I say, feeling awkward at the mention of Noah. I quickly change the subject. “You know, I messaged Naomi—”

  “No shit,” Harry interrupts.

  “Yeah, well, Helen suggested it. She said if I wanted a girlfriend, I needed to put in some effort. And apparently, her advice worked because I just got a message back from Naomi. She wants us to get our nails done?” I say, reading the text.

  “That’s … nice?” Harry says.

  He’s probably not sure if I’m excited or not, and truthfully, I don’t know how I feel about it either. I was thinking we might see the city, go to the park, hang out at her house. But I guess if it takes a nail salon to bond us, it will have to do.

  “Well, hopefully, it is.” I laugh. “And I’m secretly hoping that if we become friends before you tell Olivia that we are dating, Naomi might still talk to me after Olivia reinstates her hatred of me.”

  “Speaking of that,” Harry says, “I should probably ring her and take care of that conversation now before Mum gets home.”

  “You’ll have a lot to catch me up on tonight,” I say, thinking about all of the important conversations Harry has pending.

  “Can’t think of a better way to spend my Sunday,” he says sarcastically.

  “Bye,” I say.

  “Bye, babe.”

  After Harry hangs up, I look back over the text that Naomi sent me. She said to meet her at Avon Nails around one. It’s only eleven, so I decide to start studying for Latin. I hide in my room, making flash cards of the words I’m supposed to memorize and the grammar rules I’m supposed to know. When it comes to studying, I’m the queen of prep. I love making flash cards and study sheets.

  But when it comes to the actual studying … I get so bored.

  The task of preparing can be fun and distracting, but actually studying … not as much.

  Helen brings me up a sandwich, checking in on me. After studying for a good hour, I feel like my brain is already fried, and I decide to get ready instead. I take my time with putting on my makeup, and then I choose a black mini, a long-sleeved top, and thigh-high boots.

  And since I have the time, I give my hair a little wave.

  When I’m ready, I look myself over in the mirror, feeling excited to hang out with Naomi.

  I want to leave a little early, giving myself plenty of time to get there. I have to take the tube, and I need to go down into the station to buy a card to use to get on and off. I’ve only taken the tube a few times, but New York has a similar subway system, and I know I’ll be able to manage it on my own.

  When I leave my room, Noah’s coming up the stairs. He slows his steps, looking over me when he gets into the hallway. I have on boots that come up over my knees, but Noah’s eyes easily find the exposed skin past the hem of my skirt.

  His eyes slip further up me, and I swallow hard, feeling frozen under his gaze. But then he dips in his brows and crosses his arms.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. Obviously,” I reply, widening my eyes at him, already annoyed at his mood. Because who does he think he is!

  His brows pull in further, and he glares at me.

  I cross my arms too, wanting to show him that he can’t just interrogate me.

  “Cool,” he says, his face softening.

  And it takes me by complete surprise. He slips past me, going into his room. I stand there for a second, staring at the empty spot where he was just standing.