London Prep: Book Three Page 4

  I move through Harry’s ginormous house, trying to convince myself that that just actually happened.

  Because Olivia came out of the same bedroom as Mohammad.

  Mohammad!

  Did they just fall asleep together? Maybe she asked him to bring her something?

  Or maybe something did happen …

  By the time I get to the kitchen, I’m too freaked out to continue thinking about it.

  I’ll just have to wait and let Mohammad explain.

  I walk into the room, finding Harry at the stove. He’s stirring the contents of a skillet, and Noah is seated on a barstool at the island, watching him.

  Noah is hunched over, and all I can see is his curved back and messy hair.

  I slide onto the stool next to him, letting out a groan.

  Harry must hear it because he turns around, looking at me brightly.

  “Well, good morning,” he says, sounding way too chipper. His blond hair is brushed, and he has on a long-sleeved shirt and thick sweatpants.

  I glance between him and Noah, not even sure how to form words yet. I’m confused, my head is pounding, and I’m still slightly frightened about seeing Olivia and Mohammad together.

  “Coffee …” I finally get out, creasing my forehead.

  “Someone’s grumpy,” Noah mutters next to me.

  Someone’s grumpy, I internally mock.

  Are those really his first words to me this morning? After everything last night? After he was the grumpiest of them all?

  I would roll my eyes at him, but I’m not sure I have the energy.

  “Someone’s sleepy,” Harry sweetly corrects, coming to my side. He softly kisses my forehead, his hand running down over my hair. He smells fresh and clean but with a hint of food and coffee. “You have the cutest morning hair.”

  I look up, taking in Harry’s easy expression and crisp blue eyes.

  I barely glanced at myself in the mirror this morning, but I know he’s being kind. If anything, my hair looks like that of a wild woman. I mindlessly touch it, feeling it sticking up in the back. I try to give him a smile anyway, but for some reason, my lips pulling across my cheeks adds pressure to my face, and my head starts to hurt again.

  “Ugh,” I mumble, laying my head down into my arms on the counter.

  “Look at you two. Who would have thought that I’d be the only one not hungover?” Harry chuckles, easily moving about the kitchen.

  I peek up at him, taking in the contents spread across the counter. He already has a French press filled with coffee and a box of eggs and a package of frozen potato cakes out.

  “You’re hungover?” Noah asks, finally looking over at me.

  And it’s the first time I’ve actually seen his eyes since last night. I search his face, taking in his pale complexion. He looks tired and worn down, but he doesn’t look half as bad as I expected. Not that I expected him to look bad. I just expected him to look more … hungover.

  “Fuck, I forgot you went to bed. You should have seen her last night.” Harry laughs. He pours me a cup of coffee, setting it down on the counter.

  I give him a thankful smile and take a sip.

  The liquid warms my throat, and instant relief hits me.

  “What?” Noah asks, confused.

  “Harry,” I push, not wanting him to go there. Because, for one, it’s not funny. And two, I don’t really want Noah knowing everything I did last night.

  I don’t even want to know what I did last night.

  “She came downstairs after putting your drunken ass to bed and started pounding the liquor,” Harry continues, obviously excited to share the story. He’s looking at me like he’s somehow proud of me, but a second later, his back is to us, and he’s fussing over the stove.

  “Really?” Noah asks, his eyes fully on me now.

  I hold his gaze, taking a sip of coffee.

  Because at least if my mouth is full, I don’t have to answer him.

  “Oh, she went wild,” Mohammad confirms, walking into the kitchen.

  “I did not,” I argue, dipping in my brows.

  Because I’m too hungover to get scolded by Noah or made fun of by Mohammad. I want to have my coffee, eat some food, and fall back asleep, wrapped up in Harry’s warm arms.

  “You did,” Harry confirms, examining the package of frozen potato cakes. He rips open the box, dumping them out and onto a baking sheet before Mohammad moves him aside.

  A second later, Harry’s leaning against the counter, watching as Mohammad throws away whatever was in Harry’s skillet on the stove. Mohammad cracks a few eggs, mixing in salt and pepper, and then he turns on the oven and puts the potatoes in.

  Harry continues, addressing Noah, “She started doing body shots. She sucked tequila out of my belly button.”

  “She took a shot from between Naomi’s boobs.” Mohammad smiles. His eyes slip up to the corners, and it looks like he’s reflecting on a fond memory.

  “She even snogged Mohammad,” Harry adds, shooting me a wink.

  I flush, the memories flooding back. Noah’s mouth is hanging open, his eyes still on Harry.

  “You kissed Mohammad?” Noah asks, turning to me. His voice is rough, and his eyes are filled with disbelief.

  “She did,” Mohammad confirms, not letting me answer. “I’m not sure it was intentional though. I mean, she was sort of going for the lime in my mouth, but then I dropped it, and she just kept going—”

  “It was fucking brilliant,” Harry cuts in with a sharp laugh.

  “I might have grazed his lips,” I admit, closing my eyes with my words.

  Because I do not want to be recalling all of this right now.

  “See, Noah,” Mohammad says, walking around the island and wrapping his arm around Noah’s shoulders. “That’s what happens when you get plastered too early and pass out. You miss all the good shit.”

  “Apparently,” Noah mumbles, not seeming at all amused by our conversation.

  “Speaking of fun, where’s Olivia?” I ask, cocking my head at Mohammad. Because I would give anything for this conversation to not be about me anymore.

  And I think if anyone needs to explain themselves, it’s him.

  And I’m curious what he’s going to say.

  Mohammad drops his arm from around Noah, moving back to the eggs. He’s practically beaming.

  “She went to find Naomi and George,” he answers, dumping scrambled eggs onto a plate. He slides it toward me and Noah before adding more eggs to the skillet, checking on the potatoes in the oven.

  “How do you know that?” Noah asks, grabbing a few forks from a nearby drawer.

  “That’s a great question.” Mohammad grins, waggling his eyebrows. He turns the skillet on low, coming to sit down next to me. He steals a sip of my coffee and takes a bite of the eggs.

  “It is a good question,” Harry repeats, like he’s trying to figure out what Mohammad’s answer is going to be.

  I look at him, wondering if he’s going to be happy or upset at whatever did or didn’t happen between them.

  “Well?” I push, but a second later, Olivia comes into the kitchen, causing Harry to roll his eyes, evidently not ready for the interruption.

  “Morning,” Olivia says.

  “Morning,” I reply back because no one else has.

  “A lively bunch,” she comments, walking straight to the coffee.

  She pours herself a cup before looking at the scrambled eggs with distaste. She moves easily through the kitchen, and I watch her, captivated. She grabs milk out of the fridge, adding it to her coffee before pulling open a cabinet to reveal a loaf of bread and then putting a few pieces into the toaster.

  “Where’s Naomi?” Mohammad asks next to me when she finally settles, leaning her elbows down onto the island as she waits.

  “Getting ready. I found her asleep in one of the bedrooms,” she replies.

  “No George?” Harry asks, surprised.

  Olivia shakes her head. “Not in her room anyway
.”

  “Got some action and then snuck off?” Mohammad asks, confused.

  “Sounds like George,” Olivia offers.

  “He seemed into her last night though,” I disagree, thinking about the way he looked at her.

  Olivia shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee.

  Well, okay then.

  She’s either just not chatty or she doesn’t know the answer, but I can’t decide which. Or maybe it’s a slow morning for her too.

  Mohammad gets back up, tending to his eggs. He grabs the potatoes out of the oven, tossing them onto a plate.

  “Let’s all sit at the table,” Mohammad instructs, turning off the stove, his second batch of eggs ready. He’s already zooming out of the kitchen, a plate in each hand.

  “He’s too awake this morning,” I mumble, taking another sip of my coffee.

  “Not feeling so good?” Olivia asks, peering over at me.

  “Not the best,” I admit.

  There’s no point in lying.

  She nods understandingly. “Yeah, those shots weren’t the best idea.”

  “No,” I agree, but a second later, Mohammad is at my side, ushering me up and to the table.

  I walk slowly, carrying my coffee cup with me like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Noah shifts next to me, and I glance over at him.

  His expression is a mixture of tired and confused, but he stays silent.

  Olivia sits down across from me, bringing in a pile of toast, already sliding jam onto one of the pieces when Naomi walks into the room.

  And she’s radiant.

  “Good morning,” she sighs, practically falling into her chair. She has her hair up in a scrunchy, and she has on a pair of pink pajamas.

  “Morning,” I reply, taking in her shiny eyes and rosy cheeks.

  Olivia hands her a piece of toast, and she takes it, absentmindedly biting into it.

  “You’re glowing,” I comment and instantly feel a little bad for saying it out loud.

  “You are,” Olivia agrees, peering over at her, looking amused.

  Harry takes a seat next to me, pouring more coffee into my cup.

  “Thanks.” I smile at him.

  I want to hold his gaze forever, but Naomi continues.

  “Last night was fun,” she evades, her soft eyes shifting from the table down to the toast in her hand.

  “Spill,” Olivia instructs. Apparently, this morning, she’s not about playing games or being subtle because her words are direct and clear.

  Everyone at the table looks at Naomi, interested. I think we all want to know what happened.

  For a minute, I consider shutting down Olivia’s question, but Naomi can hold her own. If she doesn’t want to answer, she won’t.

  Naomi rolls her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. I made George sleep on the couch.”

  “Really?” Mohammad asks with surprise.

  Naomi nods her head, grinning at us. “We kissed. He walked me into my room and said good night. Of course, he wanted to just sleep in the bed with me, but I told him no.”

  “Good for you,” Olivia replies with admiration.

  I glance between Harry and Mohammad, who both look confused. My eyes slip over to Noah, who is digging into his eggs, barely paying attention.

  “I don’t get it. I thought you liked him?” Harry finally asks, biting into a potato cake.

  “I do like him,” Naomi answers.

  “Then why kick him out of your room?” Mohammad asks, shoveling in a mouthful of food.

  I let out a chuckle, realizing that guys and girls really do think differently.

  “She likes him. She doesn’t want to just hook up,” Olivia answers, rolling her eyes.

  “It is possible to sleep in the same bed and not shag,” Mohammad replies quickly, arching an eyebrow directly at Olivia.

  She narrows her eyes and shoots him a glare before looking back to Naomi.

  “It sends the wrong message. And it’s too much temptation. Besides, I think it drove him crazy. When he woke up this morning, he came in to say good-bye. Kissed me and told me he wanted to go out this weekend.”

  “You got him to commit to a date,” Harry says, seemingly impressed.

  “I did.” Naomi beams.

  “Well done,” Olivia approves.

  “Last night was fun,” Naomi gushes, taking another bite of her toast. “I mean, I’m a little tired this morning; don’t get me wrong. But it was nice, all of us hanging out. It felt like old times.”

  “Definitely,” Mohammad agrees, still shoveling food into his mouth.

  I glance up, thinking about what she said.

  Old times.

  Olivia’s eyes are on Harry. Mohammad and Naomi are so focused on eating that I’m the only one who is paying attention to the way that she looks at him.

  My stomach twists when I place the emotions in her eyes.

  Longing.

  Sadness.

  I swallow hard, looking back down at my plate. I know I should eat something, but my head is pounding, and now, my stomach feels all knotted up.

  But a second later, Harry’s hand is resting on my leg. My body relaxes at his touch, and I decide to try a few bites of egg.

  I chew slowly and then swallow.

  “I’m not sure my stomach’s ready for food.” I bring my gaze up to meet Harry’s, who has stopped to watch me eat.

  “I’m not sure everyone here feels the same.” Harry laughs, looking between Mohammad and Noah, who are both inhaling their food.

  Normally, I like the smell of eggs, but this morning, they make my stomach churn.

  I push my plate away, trying to keep from looking repulsed.

  “You’re feeling a little sick this morning?” Naomi asks, sympathetically looking at me.

  “A bit.”

  She slides some butter on a piece of toast and then says, “Here, have some.” She leans across the table, handing it to me. “It’s easy on your stomach, but it will help fill you up.”

  I bite into the toast, feeling relief when I swallow it and don’t instantly feel sick.

  “Thanks.” I flush, embarrassed.

  “How are you feeling, Noah?” Mohammad asks, his eyes flicking up from his plate.

  “Shit, mate,” he replies, setting down his fork.

  “We’re a fucking mess this morning, aren’t we?” Harry chuckles, admiring everyone at the table.

  I sigh, feeling a little less embarrassed. Because at least I’m not the only one who drank too much.

  “We are,” I agree.

  “At least we’re a mess together,” Naomi encourages, her rounded eyes slipping from Olivia and moving around the table to Noah, Mohammad, me, and finally Harry.

  I smile at her optimism, finishing off the piece of toast she gave me. The warm butter and bread have settled my stomach, and mixed with the coffee, it makes me feel a little more awake.

  “So, what are everyone’s plans today?” I ask.

  “I’ve got to head back to the house soon. Get changed for my match,” Noah replies first.

  “Right.” I nod, thankful that at least he’s talking to me. “You’re playing … Highgate, right?”

  “That’s going to be an intense match,” Mohammad says enthusiastically, his pearly whites coming out.

  “You’ll come then?” Noah asks, his eyes lifting to Mohammad.

  “For sure.” Mohammad nods.

  “Do you think you’ll win?” Naomi asks.

  Noah shrugs. “They’re a great team. And I’m not feeling the best this morning, but hopefully.”

  “Bollocks. You’ll rally,” Harry cuts in.

  “You think?” Noah asks, looking doubtful.

  “Well, you’d better fucking rally. I’m only coming if you promise to kick some Highgate ass,” Harry banters back.

  Noah grins at him. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s the problem with drinking on a Friday night,” Mohammad says.

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asks, h
er eyes flicking toward him.

  “Friday night should be the warm-up for Noah. Then, Saturday, after football, he can go on a bender. He needs to be strategic.”

  “Fair point,” Olivia agrees.

  Noah rolls his eyes.

  “You’re only saying that because you want Kensington to win,” I cut in.

  “I’m only saying that because I care about Noah’s reputation. Which, in turn, affects my reputation. And right now, he’s looking hungover,” Mohammad points out.

  “I’ll be fine,” Noah replies.

  “We might have to come up with a different solution to winning this match,” Mohammad disagrees.

  “Like what?” Harry asks, sitting up straighter with interest.

  “Like … a distraction,” Mohammad says.

  And I can see the wheels turning in his head.

  “A distraction?” I ask.

  Mohammad’s eyes widen, his whole face brightening. “You two should come,” Mohammad says, looking between Olivia and Naomi. “Dress up sexy and start waving at the Highgate players. They’ll be so distracted that they’ll forget how to kick a football.”

  Olivia’s brows dip in, and she looks unamused. Naomi flushes, like Mohammad’s idea was some sort of compliment.

  “That’s devious,” Harry says energetically, nodding his head.

  “It won’t work,” Noah disagrees.

  “No, Mohammad’s right. It could work,” Olivia replies, apparently reassessing her previous unamused stance.

  “Brilliant fucking idea, Mohammad,” Harry agrees.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I ask, wondering if I’m the only one who’s thought of the alternative effect.

  Because they all look too pleased with themselves.

  Well, everyone, except for Noah, who looks like he can’t believe this conversation is happening.

  “Forgetting what?” Mohammad asks.

  “Well … if Naomi and Olivia are so distracting that they make Highgate forget how to play football, it is assumable that they might also distract Kensington’s team.”

  I look between everyone, taking note of their reaction.

  Olivia and Naomi sway their heads back and forth. Harry just looks confused, like he can’t decide if he agrees or disagrees.

  “Shit,” Mohammad mumbles. “You have a point.”

  I just shrug, moving my attention back to my coffee. Because as much as I want to have the energy to banter back and forth with Mohammad on distracting the players or winning the match through a secret operation, I don’t.