Zayn came to a halt outside the familiar door and lifted his hand to knock but paused.
Christ, it was crazy. What was he doing there at this hour? The rational thing to do would be to wait until tomorrow instead of showing up at one in the morning like an addicted man in need of a fix—which wasn’t far from the truth.
Harry and his grandmother were asleep for sure, and Harry was probably pissed at him for practically kicking him out of the car after kissing him first.
Not to mention that Harry had given no indication that he wanted to be more than just friends. Harry didn’t do relationships. And Harry had said he wanted Jared.
Zayn gritted his teeth. No. He hadn’t imagined the hunger and need in Harry’s kisses, hadn’t imagined Harry lean into his touch. This thing—this helpless attraction—couldn’t be one-sided. He didn’t know what he would do if it was one-sided. Nothing good.
Zayn had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t take it well if Harry said he wasn’t interested. The mere thought made him restless and anxious. He didn’t want to be in Jared’s situation.
Unlike his cousin, Zayn didn’t think he was capable of watching Harry with someone else. His self-control was nowhere good enough for that.
Realizing his fists were clenched hard at his sides, Zayn forced them to relax. Fuck. Maybe suppressing and avoiding emotions for years really had been a bad idea: he didn’t know how to deal with this at all.
Harry sometimes jokingly called him a creep. Zayn had a bad feeling that it might not be far from the truth. He felt like a faucet with a broken handle: once open, it couldn’t be closed again. He had the potential to turn into a creepy stalker if Harry rejected him. Jesus. Harry had better not reject him.
Leaning against the wall, Zayn pulled out his cell phone and called Harry.
He had to wait a long time until Harry answered.
“Huh?” he mumbled, his voice sleepy and not entirely awake. His eyes were probably still closed. “Who are you and why the fuck are you calling in the middle of the night?”
“Do you really want Jared?”
Silence.
“Zee?” There was the sound of mattress springs.
Zayn licked his lips, imagining Harry in bed, his skin warm, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes sleepy and lips a bit swollen—
“Zayn?”
“Do you really want him?” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. He couldn’t help it.
Another silence.
“Are you jealous?” Harry said, a bit hesitantly.
Zayn drew a deep breath in. “Maybe.”
Harry let out a choked laugh. “Shit, this is really fucking with my head.”
Zayn thought it was only fair, considering Harry had completely ruined his orderly, rational life. “Do you want Jared?”
Harry sighed. “Anyone told you you’re like a dog with a bone? No, I don’t want Jared. Happy now? And why are you calling me at this hour?”
“Come out.”
“What?”
“Come out. I’m here, outside.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Are you seriously saying you’re outside my place at one in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was in the neighborhood,” Zayn said.
“And decided to come for a friendly visit, huh?”
