Secretly Texting [z.m.] ✅

Twelve

[A M B E R]

Me: I need a job

Me: Love rlly badly

Me: Wtf autocorrect

Me: Like*

Me: Let's call him Tyler

Me: Autocorrects name is Tyler

Me: And he's a bitch

Idk: Ok

Me: Ok?

Me: Ur not gonna tell me I'm stupid?

Idk: I love you :*****

Idk: C'mere bby

Me: Wtf

[Z A Y N]

"Hey man who's this chick Amber?" Stan asked me, and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Though the look was wiped off of my face when I turned and saw him on my phone.

"Shit!" I hissed from under the car I was working on, and slid out from under it, instantly snatching the phone from him. "Stan you bastard!" I exclaimed, and quickly typed a message.

Me: Oh my god I'm so sorry that was my friend Stan omg I feel so stupid I'm sorry!

Me: He's such a dick >_<

Amber: Oh well then I must've seemed like a loser to him

Amber: And it's ok

Me: Nah, you could never be a loser

Amber: Thx

I looked back up at Stan, slapping my hand up the back of his head. "Fucking idiot," I mumbled, sliding the phone into my pocket and getting back under the car.

"Is she that red headed girl?" He asked, "like the one who dies her hair like a fucking rainbow?"

I sighed, "yea mate, she is."

"Why you texting her?"

I scoffed, and continued to work, "because I am. Got a problem with that?" I asked, rolling my eyes at him.

"You like her don't you," he chuckled, and came to sit next to the car I was under. I didn't answer, and that practically gave him my answer without even knowing. "You do! You really fancy her!" He laughed, "I can't blame you, besides her hair she's hott."

I stopped, and turned my head to look at him, or at least his feet. "What's wrong with her hair? I like her hair," I said.

"I can't believe this. You're crushing hard mate. Does she make you nervous and awkward too?" He mocked. I huffed, and involuntarily pouted my lip. "Holy shit you're fucking whipped! I saw that face you made! She's got you hooked!" He exclaimed, laughing hysterically.

"Can you shut up? Don't tell her, and don't tell her that she was texting me. She doesn't know it's me, she just knows I'm a guy in her school who's in her History and Art class. She doesn't know she's texting Zayn Malik," I told him, referring to myself in third person.

I heard Stan sigh heavily, "alright, I won't tell. Promise," he said, "but when she does find out she's probably gonna hate you."

I furrowed my eyebrows, wiping the sweat from my forehead, "why would she hate me? I'm not being mean to her," I defended.

"Because man, you talk to her in school sometimes and she talks to you and then she goes and texts you who she obviously thinks is a different person," he explained, "say, did she ever tell you how she feels about Zayn Malik?"

I shrugged, "yea."

"Exactly, she's going to hate you because she'll end up spilling out all her feelings about you towards you. She might say that she has a crush on you but doesn't want you to know. But then look at that, you already know!" He went on, and I instantly groaned, knowing that he was mostly right.

"I'm an idiot aren't I," I sighed, sliding out from under the car and grabbing my hand towel from besides Stan, wiping my hands on it. He nodded. "Well how do I fix this shit then?" I asked, quite tired as it is.

"I don't know, give her flowers and chocolate? I don't do this romance stuff. Hell, I have my girlfriend a poem that said she's the gravy to my meatloaf, what can you expect me to do?"

"Nothing," I chuckled, "absolutely nothing, that's what."