Cherry Bomb [h.s]

4

I don't know what time I actually fell asleep, but the jet lag was definitely taking a toll on me.

I lean over in my hotel bed, still in my clothes from the airport. I check the time. 9:15 PM.

I guess I just took a casual 7 hour nap.

I rub at my eyes, trying to wipe the sleepy feeling away, when there's a knock at the door.

I sigh and hesitate to get up to answer. It's probably Harry, and I'm not sure if I want to face him again yet.

There's another knock.

If I don't answer now, he'll probably just keep knocking until I do. He seems like a very persistent person.

I slide out of bed and walk over, then open the door.

"Spencer!" A voice I haven't heard in a long time shouts out.

"Zayn!" I reply, relieved he's not Harry and also really happy to see him.

He pulls me into a big hug, lifts me from the ground, and spins me around before finally setting me back down.

I look at his face, into his eyes. He looks different than the last time I saw him. He has facial hair now, and his hair no longer has that blonde streak in it. It's completely black.

"Your hair has grown out," I observe, mussing through his dark locks with my hand.

"And yours is blonde," he says, roughing up my own hair in return.

He pauses and looks at me, a half smile on his face.

"I missed you," he tells me.

"I missed you too," I say, "You really should visit more often."

He moved a little over two years ago, and he didn't visit home once. I try my best to be understanding, but it hurt to know that he never even thought of coming to visit. Especially after what we went through.

"Yeah..." he replies, "But now I don't have to because you're going on tour with us. Oh, we're going to have so much fun, Spencer. Just you wait."

"Mmm I'm still skeptical about that, but I trust you." I tell him. "So why exactly were you knocking on my door at 9:00?" I ask.

"Oh!" He realizes, "I came to ask if you wanted to go party with us. You still haven't met the rest of the guys, you know."

"Well, I did meet Harry." I say exasperatingly.

"Oh yeah," Zayn says, "How was he? He wasn't too happy that he was the one who had to pick you up. But I hope he stayed civil."

"Mm, not exactly," I reply, earning an inquisitive look from Zayn. "Let's just say that I would prefer to only interact with him if I have to."

"That bad, huh?" Zayn responds, "Well, I'm sure he's just tired or something. Don't worry, you'll probably warm up to each other eventually."

"I seriously doubt that." I tell him.

"So, what do you say? Are you up for some good old fashioned fun?" He asks, his tone light.

I smile to myself, remembering those nights when we would sneak out and go to parties, getting wasted and high off our asses and stumbling home trying not to giggle too loudly. God, that was so long ago.

"Why the hell not," I reply with a shrug. I needed to let off some steam. "Just let me shower and everything first."

"Perfect," Zayn says, giving one of his rare smiles, the kind that burrowed into your soul and left a warm feeling of hope in its wake.