Awareness tingles along my skin and I know, deep down,with those four muttered words that he absolutely doesn’t mean the same thing, but I can’t help the words that pour from my mouth. “Yeah, my home gets pretty loud, too.”
He slowly turns his body so that he’s sitting on the step half-facing me, and his dark gaze carefully comes to rest on mine. He stares at me intently, like he’s trying to get a read on my intentions. My heart starts to gallop under his unwavering attention. I want to look away, but I can’t. The silence between us stretches on; each second that passes feels significant and my palms grow sweaty against the worn pages of my book. Then, before the moment becomes uncomfortable, his gaze flicks down to my lap and all the tension seems to leave my body, as if his gaze was an anchor and now I’m free.
“You like Harry Potter?” He asks, surprising me with the change of topic. I can’t help but beam at him.
“Likeis a very mild word for how I feel about Harry Potter.” I twist in my seat and tuck that errant hair back behind my ear. He watches the movement and grins, exposing white teeth and the most adorable dimples on his cheeks. My stomach dips once again. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any cuter. “Have you read them?”
“Yeah, only up to book six though.”
He leans back against the wall of the gazebo and loosely crosses his arms as I drop my chin in mock outrage. “What do youmean?How could you stop at book six? That’s inhumane!” I declare, waving my book in the air.
“It wasn’t by choice,” he laughs softly, and I decide that I really, really like the sound of his laugh. Soft, but a bit rough around the edges. “I did enjoy them, but the school library doesn’t have the seventh book.”
“I don’t accept that as an excuse,” I say, and it occurs to me that I’m exposing my deepest darkest secret to this guy.That I’m the biggest Harry Potter nerd in the world. “I made my dad drive me to the book store at four in the morning so I would be the first in line on release day! I couldn’t wait another second to find out how it all ended.” I can tell my face is lit up with excitement at discussing my favourite books, but I don’t mind. It seems to amuse Zayn.
“Sounds like you have a good dad.”
The way he says it implies that maybe he doesn’t have a dad as great as mine, but instead of dampening the mood, a small smile plays on his lips as he looks over at me. We continue to discuss Harry Potter for the next half hour (by discuss, I mean I talkathim animatedly about the intricacies of Harry Potter without giving away anything that happens in the last book). Then we both stop and turn our heads towards the sound of voices coming our way. They get louder as three guys round the corner of the gym, then they stops as they notice us both sitting here.
I recognise them instantly. Three popular guys from my grade. Daniel Sanders, Jack Green and Aaron Riggs. I usually try to avoid them as much as I can around school, as they’re an arrogant, rowdy group of boys who wolf-whistle loudly every time I walk past them. It’s embarrassing.
In my peripheral vision Zayn tenses, and when I look over at him, his eyes turn steely and his jaw clenches down again as if he’s bracing himself.
“Well, well, well,” says Daniel, tossing a football between his hands. They must be coming from the lower oval where they have training. “What do we have here?”
Jack and Aaron snicker on either side of him as their taunting looks dart between Zayn and I.
“Nothing,” I say lightly, but my heart sinks when I see Zayn start to pack away his books.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Daniel smirks, his leerlanding on my packet of chips. “You running a charity, Gianna?” The three of them laugh, and I furrow my brows in confusion.
“Fuck off, Daniel,” Zayn spits, and I look over to see his handsome face twisted in anger.
“What? You begging your class mates for food now, Zayn? Looks like you need a new pair of shoes, too. Gianna might have an old pair lying around for you.”
At this stage, all three of them are howling with laughter. I look down at Zayn’s shoes, and for the first time I notice that the black soles are tattered and almost coming away from the rest of the shoe. My gaze travels up over his school pants and shirt, and I see that they carry that faded limpness that usually comes with well-worn, second-hand clothes. My heart sinks for Zayn, and by the time my eyes meet his, it’s too late to scrub the dawning awareness from my face. He clocks it and instantly looks away, simultaneously standing up and reaching for his backpack.
“Wait,” I call weakly, but he doesn’t slow his movements. He hikes his bag over his shoulder and doesn’t spare even a glance in my direction as he moves past me first, then past the three laughing assholes, before disappearing around the corner.
“That was horrible, you douchebag!” I say, narrowing my eyes on Daniel. He tucks the football under his arm and wipes the tears from under his eyes, preening as if he’s the funniest person to ever walk planet Earth. I knew he could be an asshole, but I’d never experienced such an outright display of bullying before. I feel sick to my stomach.
“Oh, don’t be mad, baby,” he coos, sending Dumb and Dumber into another round of fits. “You’re way too good for him. I did you a favour by scaring him off.”
“If I’m way too good for anyone, Daniel, it’s you!” I spitthe words at him as I shove my book into my bag and leave to follow Zayn, but when I turn the corner around the gym, he’s gone.
I keepan eye out for Zayn the next day at school. When lunchtime arrives and I still haven’t laid eyes on him, I begin to wonder if he was just a figment of my imagination. I decide to recruit my best friend Anna to the case.
“Zayn, you say?” she asks as she frowns down at her Caesar salad. “I don’t think there is a Zayn in our year.” She picks up her plastic fork and uses it to flick all the croutons out of her salad and onto the grass, where the pigeons start gathering around us to pick them up.
“That’s what I thought! But I met him yesterday after school. Said he’s in my physics class.”
I bite into my ham and cheese sandwich, my eyes scanning the grassed courtyard for any signs of messy black hair amongst the sea of students sitting around us eating their lunch, but come up short once again.
“Well, when do you have physics again?” she asks, finally digging into her salad now that all signs of carbs have been removed.
“Not until tomorrow.” I sigh. I’d already thought of that.
“Well that’s not too long to wait,” she says thoughtfully, munching on her lettuce. “Actually, there is a gorgeous black-haired boy in my math class, but I’m pretty sure his name is Metal.”
