Heartstrings ➳ z.m.

ten - skylar

Chapter Ten – Skylar

I frowned as Zayn slumped to his room, the door slamming behind him.

He was mad at me. I didn’t know why, and I certainly didn’t remember wronging him, but it was painfully clear that he was upset at me.

“Don’t mind him,” Liam called over, a small smile on his lips (though I could see that it was forced, I admired him for trying. Liam was a sweet guy, definitely), “he’s always moody.”

“Moody?” I asked. Maybe he was just misunderstood.

Terribly misunderstood.

And it seemed that I was the only one to see that.

“Why’s he mad at me?” I whined, mumbling to Louis for about the thirtieth time. I was currently curled into his side, and yes, I was indeed loving it, but I couldn’t shake Zayn off of my mind. Yes, I realized that he never talked, but I could just tell that something was wrong. I could almost see his anger radiating off of him in red, hot waves. “D’you think it’s because of the tattoo thing? You think maybe—”

“For Christ’s sake, Sky,” Harry groaned from the floor below me, tilting his head up to glare at me through his curls (he and Niall had barged in, apparently back from shopping. Niall even managed to greet me), “why don’t you just go talk to him. I mean, I know he’s not going to talk back, but anything is better than listening to you whining.”

I frowned a bit, nudging the boy’s shoulder with my socked foot. He was right, of course, but something told me that Zayn didn’t even want to speak with me. “But do you think—”

“He just didn’t want to get off schedule,” Louis interrupted, one of his hands moving to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, while the other arm tightened around my waist. I knew that my face was smudged scarlet without a doubt, and Louis only smiled. “I’m sure he’s fine, and you’re fine, okay?”

I nodded, but as I did, my phone began to ring, and I excused myself to the kitchen. “Hello?”

“At Liam’s, yeah?” Trinity’s coarse voice greeted me, and she yawned through the receiver.

I smirked, leaning on the counter a bit, running a hand through my hair—the same hair that Louis had touched just moments earlier. I colored at the thought, and bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes meeting the digital clock on the stove. It was almost 2:30 now. “Yeah. What’re you doing getting up so late, anyway?”

            “Stayed up all night doing work so I won’t have any today,” she mumbled back, another short yawn leaving her lips. “Why do professors assign homework on the weekend?”

            “Because they’re heartless,” I responded, glancing back into the living room, where all the boys’ (excluding Niall, who seemed genuinely interested in the film) eyes were on me. “Why are you calling, anyway?”

            “Why, busy?”

            I snorted. “A little.”

            I could almost feel her grin through the phone. “With Zayn or Louis? No wait. It’s with Harry, isn’t it? Is he a good kisser?”

            For a second, I was speechless. Did she honestly just ask me that? “I wouldn’t know,” I hissed, “because I haven’t done that. We’re watching a movie.”

            “Who does this ‘we’ consist of?”

            I groaned; I didn’t have time for these childish games. “Why were you calling?”