Funny that, his tone suggests quite the opposite.
“You’re not. I was just walking Gia out,” Brett says easily, but he’s eyeing Zayn a little more closely than I would have expected. “I’m Brett.” He offers his hand to Zayn, who shakes it with a firm grip. The handshake lasts a touch longer than necessary, and I swear Brett’s knuckles turn white.
“Zayn. If there’s nothing else, then?” His gaze slides back to mine. “Can I take you home, Gianna?”
I stand there awkwardly, feeling like a child of divorce, my gaze flicking between Zayn and Brett as though they’re bitter exes struggling to co-parent without resentment at drop off time.
“I am an adult,” I say, trying yet failing to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “I don’t need to be escorted from one place to another, you know?” I roll my eyes and shove down my undeniable delight that Zayn came for me. He gave no indication earlier that he cared about my plans or my job beyond clarifying that I wasn’t wearing a negligee in a hotel room right now.
“I’m well aware,” Zayn says softly, his sudden gentlenessthrowing me off. “I’m also aware of the statistics of women being assaulted after hours on university campuses.”
I shift on my feet, but no longer feel the bitter cold that was beginning to seep through my jacket. Zayn’s words, paired with the concern lacing his eyes, heat me from the inside out until I actually feel my cheeks flush. Did he really come all this way just to make sure I got home safely? I guess with my track record lately, his concern is warranted.
“Right then. You good here, Gia?” Brett asks awkwardly as he turns to face me. I briefly wonder what he thinks of Zayn showing up here, especially as he asked me last week if I was seeing anyone and I said no.
“Yeah,” I nod to him. “Zayn is… another old friend of mine.”
Zayn’s looking at Brett like he’s sizing him up, and now I’m wondering whathethinks of my friendship with Brett. They couldn’t be more different. Brett is warm, charming and friendly. Zayn is cold, blunt and ruthless. Well, on the outside he is, anyway.
“Okay,” Brett says slowly, his eyes roaming my face as if looking for a cue from me that I need him to stay. He obviously finds none. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see ya Monday.”
Brett takes a few slow steps back, his eyes still trained on me, then he nods and turns to head down the footpath that leads to the front of the uni. Zayn tracks his movements with a tight jaw.
“Why are you looking at him like that?” I ask, my eyes narrowed. “Brett’s my friend.”
“You never dated? He asks coolly.
“What? No. I was with Daniel back when we met.”
“And if you hadn’t been with Daniel?”
His face looks drawn when it turns to mine.
“I don’t know, Zayn. I’m not a fortune teller. I can’t tell you how my life would have played out if I never married Daniel.”
Zayn’s features return to neutral, as if he just realised he was letting his emotions show.
“I think I just ruined his plan to ask you out tonight.”
I rear back, my brows flying into my hairline. “I highly doubt it. Brett’s my professor now. That would be pretty unethical.”
Zayn stares at me likeI’mthe clueless one.
“Why did you come back, Zayn?” I ask the question he wanted me to ask him the other day in my apartment. I’ve had time to process, and now I’m stuck in this weird limbo of not knowing what to do with Zayn’s confession. Not knowing how to feel. Not knowing how he feels. Trying to dissect his actions but failing miserably. He seems to pop up whenever I need him, and I don’t know how to take that or why he’s inserted himself back into my life.
Zayn looks back to the path Brett disappeared down. His eyebrows draw closer as he turns something over in his head.
“I missed the weather in Melbourne.”
As if calling out Zayn’s lie itself, a harsh wind whips through us and sends my ponytail flying across my face, wrapping my hair around my neck like a thick black scarf.
His lie is frustrating. That’s not the answer he was going to give me that day.
“It’s about to bucket down. Should we go?” he asks.
I nod and then follow as he turns to leave, not that I particularly want to keep being his damsel in distress as Anna so eloquently put it, but I also don’t fancy getting soaked while walking the six blocks back to my apartment.
“Did you come here on purpose?” I ask as I walk briskly to keep up with his stride.
