Breaking the silence

CHAPTER 7

I didn't even plan on going to the library that day. I mean, what kind of teenager willingly goes to a place filled with books, silence, and the occasional nosy librarian who probably thinks whispering is the devil's music? But here I was, walking through the double doors like my life was a shitty coming-of-age movie.

Truth be told, I wasn't there to annoy Zayne—not today, at least. I had too much shit swirling around in my head. Between the weird encounter with the guy in the bike helmet, the usual teenage BS, and Jackson acting like a fucking weirdo on FaceTime, my brain felt like it was being blended on high speed.

I needed quiet. I needed to sit in a corner, pretend to read, and maybe scroll through my phone mindlessly for an hour or two until I could convince myself I wasn't spiraling into an existential crisis. Not asking for much, right?

I slouched my way to the back of the library, where I could hide behind some shelves and avoid any awkward conversations with, well, anyone. The librarian, Mrs. Perez, gave me a once-over like she was trying to figure out why someone like me was back in her sacred temple of learning. I shot her a half-assed smile and pretended to be looking for something interesting on the shelves. Please, lady, let me have my brooding teenage moment in peace.

I wasn't expecting Zayne to show up. But because the universe has a shitty sense of humor, he walked in not even ten minutes after I sat down.

Of course he did.

Because why wouldn't the one guy I love to piss off find me when I'm in the middle of a mental breakdown?

He didn't notice me at first. He strolled in, looking as cold and distant as ever, probably ready to sit in the same spot he always does and silently judge everyone in the room. But then he saw me. His eyes narrowed, and I could almost hear him thinking Oh, fuck no, not him again.

Except, I wasn't annoying him today. I hadn't annoyed him for a few days, actually. And that seemed to confuse the hell out of him, judging by the way he kept glancing at me from across the room like I was a ticking time bomb that hadn't gone off yet.

Zayne sat down in his usual spot, but he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye. It was subtle, but I could tell. Normally, I'd be halfway across the room already, coming up with new and creative ways to get under his skin. But not today. Today, I couldn't even muster the energy to throw him a sarcastic comment or flash one of my I'm a charming asshole grins.

Eventually, Zayne got up. He moved slowly, like he was trying to decide if this was a good idea or not, and then—shock of all shocks—he walked over to my table.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his voice as blunt as ever.

"No hello? No 'How's your day going, Sam?' Just straight to the point, huh?" I replied, but my heart wasn't in it. The sarcasm was there, but it was weak. Pathetic, even.

Zayne raised an eyebrow. "You haven't annoyed me in days. It's weird."

"Maybe I'm just giving you a break."

He frowned, clearly not buying it. "You don't do breaks."

"Yeah, well, people change."

"Not you."

I almost laughed, but it came out more like a tired sigh. He wasn't wrong. I didn't do breaks. I was like a professional pest, and Zayne was my favorite target. But right now, I just didn't have the energy.

Zayne didn't sit down, but he lingered at the edge of the table, looking at me like I was a math problem he couldn't solve. "What's going on?"

And just like that, I snapped. It wasn't even dramatic or anything. I didn't slam my fist on the table or start yelling like an idiot. I just... started talking. Like a dam broke in my brain, and all the shit I'd been holding back came flooding out.

"I don't even know where to start, dude," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "It's just... everything. Everything sucks."

Zayne said nothing, which was probably the best thing he could've done, honestly. He just waited, his eyes—those stupid, piercing eyes—watching me like he could see right through my bullshit.

I started rambling. About school, about how tired I was of everything. How I was convinced that the guy I saw in the bike helmet was him—Zayne—and how fucking freaked out I'd been by the whole thing. How I thought Jackson was acting weird lately, and I couldn't shake this gnawing feeling that something was wrong with us, even though I had no proof. I even admitted that I hadn't slept for shit in days because my brain wouldn't shut the fuck up long enough to let me rest.

"I don't know, man," I said, finally running out of steam. "I'm just... bummed, I guess."

Zayne was quiet for a moment, processing everything I'd just dumped on him. I half-expected him to walk away, leave me to drown in my teenage misery, but instead, he surprised me.

"That guy in the bike helmet," he said slowly, "wasn't me."

I blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Zayne shrugged. "I don't hang out with guys like that. Or anyone, really. You know that."

I stared at him, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. But Zayne's face was unreadable as always. Still, there was something about the way he said it—calm, straightforward, no hesitation. I wanted to believe him.

"You're sure?" I asked, even though I knew it was a stupid question.

He gave me a look, one of those *are you seriously doubting me?* looks. "Yeah, I'm sure."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Okay... I guess I was just being paranoid."

Zayne didn't say anything for a minute, and I thought that was it, conversation over. But then he surprised me again.

"Why does it matter if it was me?"

I froze, not sure how to answer that. It was one of those simple questions that felt like it had a hundred possible answers, and none of them were right.

"I dunno," I finally said. "I guess I was just... worried? Like, I don't know you that well, but you don't seem like the type to hang out with sketchy people. So when I thought it was you, it freaked me out."

"Worried about me?" Zayne asked, his tone neutral, but there was the slightest hint of something else there. Amusement? Curiosity? I couldn't tell.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," I shot back, trying to regain some of my usual snark. "It's a one-time thing."

Zayne actually smirked at that, which threw me off even more. Was I imagining it, or was Zayne actually being... kind of human?

We fell into a weird silence after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was like... we were both okay with it. No need to fill it with words or fake small talk.

Then, out of nowhere, Zayne spoke again. "You like men?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You said your boyfriend was acting weird. So... you're into guys."

I stared at him for a second, not sure where he was going with this. "Yeah. Why?"

Zayne shrugged, like it was no big deal. "I am too."

I nearly choked on air. "Wait, seriously?"

He gave me another one of those why the fuck would I lie? looks, and I had to laugh. Of all the things I expected Zayne Martinez to say, I like guys too wasn't even on the list.

"Well, shit," I muttered. "Did not see that coming."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Who, me? Never."

He looked like he didn't believe me for a second, but then his eyes softened—just a little—and he shook his head. "You're an idiot."

"And yet, here you are, talking to me."

Zayne didn't respond to that, but he didn't walk away either. He just stood there, giving me a look that was somewhere between annoyance and concern, and for the first time since I met him, I felt like maybe—just maybe—he didn't completely hate my guts.