Lovesick.

XI. First Impressions Are Full of Deception.

ARIANA'S POV

I walk down the hallway, heading to my last class of the day. Confidence is worn on me like classy perfume as I strut in my heels, and matching sunflower crop top and skater skirt. Instead of my usual hairstyle, part of my hair pinned up, the rest of my curls left cascading down my back.

"Ariana!" I hear someone call me from behind, and I turn to see Justin sprinting down the hallway towards me.

"Hey." I greet him cheerfully, wrapping him in a short embrace. Some people notice, and start muttering gossip about it that we ignore.

"Hi. I, uh, just wanted to know if we could, y'know, maybe go out again some time? I know your schedules hectic with classes and homework and cheerleading, never mind, just forget I mentioned it--" He goes on and on, and I find it cute that he's shy about getting rejected.

"J, I'd love to. How 'bout on Friday?" I suggest, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay. Cool." He nods happily, walking off backwards so he still faces me. He trips over a pile of books, and falls on his ass. I giggle at the sight, and he mutters "real smooth, Justin..." to himself.

I turn, and run into my class right before the tardy bell rings.

"Ms. Grande, I expect you to be in your seat when the bell rings. Not just entering the room. Next time, I'll have to give you detention." My professor, Mrs. Hansen, warns.

"Sorry, Ma'am. Won't happen again." I say, heading to my seat. I sit down, listening to the lesson as I take notes when someone taps my shoulder. I turn to make eye contact with Zayn.

"Haz wants you to meet him in his room after class." He informs me.

"Okay....?" I reply, confused as to why he would want to meet up with me.

I face forward again in my chair, and continue my bullet points on the lesson.

•~•*~*•~•*~*•~•

I walk up to his dorm room, and knock. Soon after, perfect curls and emerald eyes show up, the door open.

"Hey. C'mon in." He steps out of the way, and I enter the room.

"So, what's up?" I ask, getting straight to the point.

"I wanted to see if you could help me with this poetry project I'm doing..." He says.

"Sure."

"Great. So first off, I can't find the concept of this poem." He trails off.

"No. First off, what is that sound?" I question, hearing the shower running along with light moans.

"Oh. Louis hasn't been getting as much action as he would've liked, and that's his way of coping."

"Oh. Well that's.....pleasant."

"Yeah, try living with it."

"Oh, trust me. Louis may not get enough action, but Nicki has no shortage..." I say, and we both laugh.

He clears his throat. "So, the poem is right here."

He points to a paper on his desk, and I smile at him. I pull my glasses out of my backpack, and put them on, reading the title.

"Oh, I love this poem! It's one of my favorites." I tell him. "Let's go through this one stanza at a time."

He nods, and I pick up the paper and recite:

"I am offering this poem to you,
Since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat
When winter comes to cover you,
Or like a pair of thick socks
The cold cannot bite through,"