3 Rounds Reloaded//Ziam

{23}

Hi loves, I hope you're all well. I'm so happy to be writing again, I think I'll do some more chapters and then 3RR will finally be coming to an end. I don't have a super clear ending planned out yet but we'll see what happens. Anyways, enjoy!

But girl I can't feel my face
What are we smokin' anyway?
She said don't let the high go to waste
But can you taste a little taste
Novacane, baby, baby
Novacane, baby, I want you

Novacane|| Frank Ocean

Zayn was furious. Actually no, he was beyond furious. Liam really knew how to dig deep, he struck a chord in Zayn that no one ever had. The words continued to play over and over in the brown eyed boy's mind.

"A fucking psychopath huh, that's what he thinks of me?" Zayn spat out in anger, his steps quickening as Zayn tried to travel as far away from everyone as he could.

The male was at a disadvantage, it wasn't like being at home. He couldn't just run away to his favorite club or over to Louis and Harry's. He literally had no where to go. That wouldn't stop him though, Zayn would figure it out, even if it required laying low in some unfamiliar Greek bar. So, the male took it upon himself to find somewhere that would allow him to drink away his pain.

It didn't take long before Zayn found himself perched on a bar stool, sipping at his fourth drink. He managed to locate a club that attracted a lot of tourists. He wouldn't dare step foot into some shady bar, Zayn knew better, trouble seemed to just follow the boy around. As the male downed yet another coke and rum, he almost instantly felt the liquor start to have an effect over him. "I think I'm kinda drunk..." the male murmured to no one in particular, running his skinny fingers through the semi long black locks atop his head.

"One shot of tequila." The bartender set down a shot glass in front of Zayn, his accent thick.

"I didn't order this, take it back." The model protested, eyebrows knit in confusion as he tried to speak over the loud music.

"He did." the bartender motioned over to an unfamiliar man across the bar, rolling his eyes at Zayn's attitude before walking away to go assist other obnoxious tourists.

"He? Who is he—" Zayn began to argue, the words stopping as he caught sight of the mystery man who was staring dead at him. The model would be lying if he said the man wasn't incredibly attractive, even from this distance. In fact, it almost took Zayn off guard.

The man lifted his shot glass, which Zayn assumed had the same thing in it. The Bradford native then grabbed his glass and held it towards the male, offering a small smirk before throwing the drink back, then shifting his attention elsewhere. It didn't change the fact that the man started to approach him.

"You struck me as a tequila kind of guy." He began, his voice husky and deep.

"I actually hate Tequila—" Zayn deadpanned, raising a brow at the male as he tilted his head back to make eye contact with him. He was tall, and it didn't help that Zayn was sitting.

"We'll then, I guessed wrong now didn't I." He continued, offering Zayn a dazzling toothy grin. God, he was fucking perfect. It was difficult for the model not to stare. He was caught in some kind of trance, his lips parted in curiosity as he studied the man.

His eyes were a striking blue color, which was the first thing Zayn noticed. Dark curls framed his face and fell to his shoulders. He was tall, almost towering over Zayn and he had a rather muscular build, but still slender. "I've never seen you here before, you're a tourist, aren't you?" The male chuckled slightly, licking his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Zayn was confused though, he had an American accent yet he seemed so comfortable here.