Parole | Zarry

07

VOTE | COMMENT

He swallowed the last of his chocolate sundaes and watched as Zayn spooned the last of his mandarin orange sorbet.

Harry felt as giddy as if he were drunk, but he'd had only two beers.

He was probably grinning like a loon.

He didn't care.

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When the bill came, Zayn shot his hand out and snatched it away.

"Hey!" Harry protested.

"This was my idea, you know."

Zayn shook his head stubbornly and pulled out a Platinum MasterCard.

Harry didn't have a MasterCard, but if he did, it would be something way less precious.

Asphalt, maybe.

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"I'm not a total deadbeat."

Zayn rolled his eyes.

He held up one finger and pointed to himself, then added a second finger and pointed to Harry.

Okay, what the hell did that mean?

Zayn tried again.

One finger, himself.

Then a rolling motion with his hands, two fingers, and Harry.

"Next time's on me?"

Harry hazarded, wondering if his interpretation was more optimistic than accurate.

But Zayn grinned and nodded.

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Twenty minutes later, Zayn was driving around in circles near his house.

Harry finally got the hint and gave directions to his ugly apartment building.

Zayn didn't cut the engine as he pulled to the curb, and Harry hesitated after he climbed out, then walked to the driver's side door.

He felt like a sap, but part of him wanted to look again into those eyes, just to make the evening complete.

Zayn's window was rolled down.

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Feeling a bit awkward, Harry said.

"That was really nice, Zayn. Thanks. But next time I pay."

Zayn crooked a finger at him, and Harry leaned down, at which point Zayn grabbed his collar and pulled Harry forward into a firm kiss that tasted of whiskey and citrus.

For a change, it was Harry who was speechless when Zayn let him go.

Zayn smirked delightedly and roared off.

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Twice during the following week it was dry enough for Zayn to be out, and Harry sat next to him for a while, amiably bumping shoulders, blathering on about whatever came to mind.

When he paused to take a breath or two, Zayn would play a song.

Once Harry asked,

"How come you do it?"

He received a puzzled look in return.

"Stay out here and play, I mean."

Zayn gestured toward the sidewalk, where a group of teens laughed loudly as they passed by, and a young mother pushed a stroller, and an old lady lugged a plastic bag full of groceries.

Nothing all that exciting, but it was the bustle of life, and Harry realized that it was probably Zayn's closest human interaction on most days.

• ☘ •

- Heavenly Zayn.