The Beautiful Escape [ZARRY]

31

A stubborn expression settled on his soft features as he planted his hands on his waist and laughed. "You've got to be kidding me... You're holed up here; what's that if it's not running away?"

Zayn watched the anger slowly fade from Harry's eyes. "Christmas. I'm running away from Christmas..."

A startled laugh erupted from Zayn. "There's a lot of it around." If all Mum was running away from was Christmas he'd be delighted-the complications arose if it was her life, or, the family that made her flee.

"Pardon...?"

Zayn shook his head. "Nothing," he prevaricated.

"Then why are you looking so shifty?" Harry wondered, displaying an unforgivable and highly worrying degree of expression.

"I've got that sort of face," Zayn snapped back bad-tempered.

"You wouldn't make a poker player," Harry agreed.

"I was just thinking."

"Dare I ask what?"

"If you must know, I was thinking you didn't strike me as the sort of man who runs away from anything. And even if you did, why on earth would you run away here...?" His eyes did a quick, highly critical circuit of the room.

Harry shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Don't let the Yorkshire Tourist Board hear you say that," he preached. 

"I meant this house."

"Why not?" he drawled.

"No electricity. I'm guessing poor plumbing?" Zayn began to tick off the reasons on his fingers.

"Diabolical," Harry conceded ruefully. "If you want the bathroom I'd wait until you get next door if I were you."

"Thanks for the advice." Zayn refused to be sidetracked. "You still haven't told me why."

The haughty angle of Harry's head made it seem as though he was looking down his nose at Zayn. 

"Could that be because I don't think it's any of your business?"

Zayn caught his breath angrily at the rebuff. 

"Well, that put me in my place, didn't it?"

A fit of something close to regret flickered across Harry's face.

"Hold on." Harry moved to blocked Zayn before he reached the door. "My friend's builders have been a little less than truthful with their reports to him," he explained abruptly. "I'd say they've fallen behind schedule by a couple of months. I was expecting something less... basic."

"Then you're not staying?" Of course, he's not, dumbo.

"I wasn't..."

Sure, Zayn must have misheard his soft response. He raised his startled eyes to Harry. "What changed?" 

Harry was watching Zayn with that infuriatingly enigmatic smile that told him absolutely nothing. "I like neighbours."

Their eyes met and a great rush of sexual longing crowded out sensible coherent thoughts. He never figured out how long he stood there staring at Harry like a drooling idiot. 

Does he think all he has to do is click his fingers and I'll...? Why not, Zayn, that's all he had to do last night... 

"Like the idea of sex on tap, you mean!"

His mouth tightened.

"Well, let me tell you if you think last night was anything other than a one-off, think again," Zayn advised hotly. 

"Does the idea of a relationship based on sex frighten you, Zayn?"

"No," he told Harry candidly, "it petrifies me."

"And excites you," Harry interjected slyly. 

"No!" Zayn blustered.

"Liar...you want me and we both know it."

Zayn gave a hoarse, sceptical laugh. "Why not just thump your chest and drag me off to your cave?"

Harry thought the idea was great, although he was thinking more along the lines of a nice hotel room with good plumbing and room service.

"It may not be particularly politically correct to say, but-"

"May?" Zayn squeaked. "There's no 'may' about it!"

"Tell me, do you regret last night happened? Do you regret we made love, Zayn?"

Zayn shifted his chin, met Harry's eyes scornfully, and opened his mouth. "You bet I..." The blood drained dramatically from his face. "I... no," he admitted with the utmost reluctance- now would have been a good time to lie. 

"As I was saying, from the moment I saw you..." Perhaps the significance of his confession was wasted on Harry? Then again, [perhaps this was wishful thinking on his part.

"The first moment you saw me you thought I was a girl. Is there something you're not telling me?" 

Harry eyed Zayn with signs of irritation. "So, not the first," he gritted. "We are not talking about then, we are talking about now."

Zayn didn't want to talk about now; actually, he didn't want to talk about anything with this infuriating man who seemed to have the knack of making him say compromising things.

"And now," he announced coldly, "I'm going home-or I would be if you would shift yourself." He looked pointedly past Harry's shoulder at the door.

Harry immediately stepped to one side with the fluid grace that made Zayn's stomach muscles quiver; perversely he found himself hesitant to take the escape route offered.

Whilst he hovered indecisively, Harry moved to his side, "I'll walk you home."

Zayn's eyes widened. "You are joking, right?"

"Actually," Harry confessed, "I was hoping you'd let me have the use of your shower or better; a long, hot bath."

"My God, you've got a nerve," Zayn breathed. out the words.

"I've also got several broken ribs, extensive bruising and a bust shoulder but don't let that influence your decision."

Despite himself, Zayn felt a smile forming. "We're not a hotel," he told him firmly.

"Is that a no?"

Zayn's eyes narrowed. "It should be."

Harry didn't look surprised by Zayn's submission. But then, why would he, when Zayn had already proved he's a pushover in every sense of the word? "If you say anything to my family about...you know what"

******