"What was that?" Zayn asked.
Nadiya and I exchanged nervous looks but neither of us said anything. She pretended to see a friend and left me to the situation myself.
"Uh, um," I stuttered.
Zayn raised an eyebrow but I don't think he heard our conversation.
"It's okay you don't have to tell me but I just never thought I would see my sister and a girl like you talking," he said frankly.
A girl like me? What did that mean?
"What do you mean by 'a girl like me'," I asked my face burning from anger. Something Zayn never did was judge me for who I am. If he had loved me, he loved me for being different and liking different things and being a dork.
Zayn took a cautious step back, which was probably a good idea for his sake.
"I'm sorry, that came out wrong," he mumbled.
I could feel my blood boiling beneath my skin.
"Please enlighten me."
"I meant that my sister is really popular and she wears pink and.."
"I'm alone and I like different bands and I wear faded clothes and I wear my hair down all natural and I'm a little weird and awkward? Is that what you meant?"
"Yes, wait I mean no?" It sounded more like he was asking me then telling me.
"You're hopeless. I'm sorry Zayn. I can't do this. It hurts too much."
Zayn didn't say anything as I lurched forward. He probably thought I was going to punch him. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and nuzzled my head into the chest of his blue t shirt. He was too shocked to hug me back and I had released him before he had a chance to do so. I stared at him in his boater shorts and tan sperry's. Who was this stranger that stood in front of me? Looking at Zayn like this made it a whole lot easier to walk away but when I pictured him with his blond streak and tight jeans I almost began to cry.
Zayn had stopped trying for me, so I had made the decision to stop trying for him as well. I hated to admit that things were never going to be the same.
Zayn's POV
I watched Nicole's back as she walked out the door. Everyone else was eating lunch with their friends and laughing and gossiping like normal teenagers. But here I was stuck in this mess. I wanted more than anything to remember. I just wanted to remember how things had been for me. Who was I?
I followed Nicole outside and saw her sitting on the wooden bench alone, her face in her palms. The temptation to comfort her was too much but I knew she didn't want to see me.
I kicked a rock and shoved my hands into my pockets in frustration. I felt the plastic bag of weed that for some reason I always kept in there. My fingers played with the material for a while as I walked.
"What is wrong with me?" I said to myself.
Why did this happen to me? Why couldn't have Harry been hit by that car? He deserved it much more than I did. But how would I know? I couldn't remember what he had done.
I thought about Nicole. She and her brilliant smile and sad blue eyes occupied my mind all the time. I couldn't stop thinking about her, dreaming about what we used to be or used to have. I thought about how it felt to have her arms around me. She was looking more fragile and thinner and tired every day. And as I thought about all of this, I realized I had been walking away from the school and I was now in the middle of an empty road.
