💎 Z A Y N 💎

05

'34+35' - Ariana Grande

Unedited

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Groaning in frustration, Syra crumpled up her failed sketch and tossed it in the bin. Her mind was a jumble, she couldn't seem to get the colours right. That infuriating boy, Zayn, and his stupid eyes had occupied her mind over the weekend. The whole week he'd made himself scarce, and she didn't know why she was so worked up about it. She barely knew the guy.

Whenever she felt stressed, suffocated or anything of the sort, she resorted to art, her passion. Perhaps it was the zen of drawing - you become one with your work - lost in the rhythm of the tasks at hand. She often drew the source of her frustration, or something that would bring about sukoon in her, a sense of azaadi. (Peace), (Freedom).

This time she drew his side profile, well that's what she saw as she sneaked looks at him while he blatantly ignored her. His sharp jaw coated in dark stubble, the arch of his eyebrow, the light glinting off his brow bones, temples and cheekbones, the shadowing in the crease of his eyes; the hollows of his cheeks. It has taken her forever to get the slope of his nose correct, slanting at approximately forty-five degree angle, with a sharp yet rounded tip; the tip of his nose parallel to the base and the philtrum. Each individual placement of the hairs on his face were well-thought and precise. Big man keeps his shape-ups consistent, she thought to herself.

But what was the most difficult was his eyes. Whenever she sketched people, she always drew their eyes in the colour that they owned. One might think drawing grey eyes were easy, for what colour did they possess? If she stuck to her sketching pencil to draw his eyes, they'd be dull, lifeless; not doing justice to what she saw in her minds eye. No, she'd have to use white and grey colouring pencils, to bring about that blazing silver gaze that had ensnared her. She focused the life into those eyes, so that the viewers gaze automatically found source of the sketch, the one thing holding it together, the purpose.

She was held up from starting her new piece as her phone rung. She checked the screen. Layla. She answered the FaceTime.

"Salaaaaammmm babes," shouted Layla the moment the call connected. It was beyond Syra how such a shy and timid person turned into a loud and chatty one.

"Walaikumasalam, Layla. What you saying?"

"Oh no we are so not doing this. I need the deets right now, I've been deprived wayyyy too long. Jannah and Isla are here with me too. So start talking. Chop chop, haven't got all day,"replied Layla, hearing a faint 'yeah' and 'yas bitch' from Isla and Jannah in the background.

"You guys were legit right there. I collided into him like an absolute twat and fell on top of him. I still feel so humiliated,"

"If I'm not mistaken, big man was tryna hide a boner,"interjected Jannah.

Syra felt her face heat up. Jannah had no filter whatsoever; she could be pretty vulgar at times, okay most of the time.

"How tf would you know that? Don't tell me you were staring down there - and ugh! Jannah! Whyyy?!" she wailed, cursing her out for putting such an idea in her mind.

"If you want to know if it was big, which I know you do, man was packing. Like that was one groinzilla I accidentally witnessed,"

"Accidentally my arse. Jannah why were you even looking there-"

"You're just jelly that you didn't get a glance. Dw I ain't stealing yo man, I'm sure you'll get to see-" after hearing the gasps of the others she added, "-after marriage of course. But that's besides the point. The point is that you were responsible for the said boner, for that dreamy look on his face. Man just met you but was whipped, styll," she rambled.