There will be blood. (Zustin )

8. Justin

.................

I tapped my pen in a systematic rhythm on the wood of my desk in my penthouse as I thought about...well, nothing in particular but I felt like I should be doing something productive. The only problem was that I couldn't bring myself to get busy with anything.

It had been like this for the past week, ever since I met Zayn at the fountain to return his wallet.

What the hell was wrong with him?

My normal tricks didn't work. Usually, it took three minutes, five tops to hook a person. I had gotten it down to a very mechanical and precise routine but Zayn shattered all that to hell. What the heck was her problem?

"I bet he's straight." I nodded, trying to convince myself of that but it wasn't working.

This boy was grating on my last nerves. As a man who likes to play games and make conquests, Zayn should have been an easy kill for me, a simple mark but somehow, my charm hadn't worked. I had been going over the events of that Sunday for the past week, trying to figure out where I went wrong but my photographic memory allowed me to see that I played my role to perfection. Therefore, the blame had to be placed on him.

I couldn't sleep that night. Well, I never slept but that night I was increasingly restless all because of that damned Zayn. He was like a bug that was trying to borough under my skin and wouldn't leave me alone. He was becoming a serious problem in my eyes.

By Tuesday, he was clouding my judgment, making me forget simple things and I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. By Thursday, I had literally tried to fuck him out of my system by calling over almost every person in my little black book but none of them were helping because I had already conquered them. By Friday, I was high on a shipment of cocaine that my father got from Vietnam and yet Zayn was still able to break the barriers of my drug induced haze.

It was now Saturday, one of my days off but guess who was sitting at his desk like a bitch, trying to figure some guy out? Me!

I never once in my life had to work this hard for a lay and I had only met the guy twice, both times lasting less than a minute. Zayn...

Zayn.

Zayn.

Zayn?

What kind of name was that anyway?

I guess I could go to him but that was against my morals, code, routine, whatever you wanted to call it. I didn't chase any person, they chased me. I half expected him to call on Monday but something about him told me that he wouldn't. It was weird. I felt like I knew this guy even though I had barley laid eyes on him. I had called him first, to give him the purse back. That was my gentlemanly hook and he was supposed to bite.

I kind of lost my cool with him for a second when I saw him at the fountain but that was only because he was distracting me. He looked...stunning even in his jeans and shirt attire that I found oddly refreshing. I never wore anything but suits and the occasional workout clothes when I went to the gym but anything else wasn't appropriate. In any case, Zayn kind of took me off guard that day.

I could usually just walk up to a girl, spit my lines, have her on my arm in five minutes, and have her in my bed within the hour. Zayn made me anxious for some reason. He made me awkward and I had grown out of that fucking stage. I was a grown man and this wasn't high school so why did I feel like it was.

He was the hot cheerleader and I was the nerdy band geek but even in high school, I knew how to get people. Zayn was different.

"He's straight." I said again. I hit my pen more furiously on the desk as I thought about this chick. I had to figure him out.