Between the Lines

Chapter 4: Swoon-Worthy distractions

It was another Friday, the final stretch before the weekend. The seniors at Riverwood High were buzzing, half paying attention to their classes and half dreaming about their weekend plans. Zayn Malik, however, was already an event of his own. The moment he strode into his English class, all eyes were on him, and he could feel it. The girls, especially, couldn't keep their glances subtle, and even some of the guys looked at him with something close to admiration.

Today, Zayn had decided to ditch his usual layered look and wear a fitted black shirt that clung to his toned frame in a way that didn't help anyone focus. His tattoos peeked out from his sleeves, his hair was casually pushed back, and the look on his face as he surveyed the room was one of amusement mixed with mild annoyance. It was a smirk that said he was all too aware of the effect he was having, and he wasn't about to apologize for it.

Aisha, the new girl, noticed immediately. She'd only been in his class for a few weeks, but she could already tell that Mr. Malik wasn't like any teacher she'd ever had. She wasn't blind—Zayn was ridiculously good-looking, and it seemed like every girl in the room knew it. Aisha glanced around, noticing how the other girls were practically swooning over him, some fixing their hair, others giggling at every little thing he said. Even a few guys looked like they were trying to figure out how he did it.

Zayn cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping over the room, not missing a single person's reaction. He tossed his leather satchel onto his desk, crossing his arms and giving the class a mock-serious look. "Alright," he said, his Bradford accent thick and unmistakable. "Let's start off with the most important question of the day..." He paused, letting the suspense build as the students leaned forward slightly, waiting.

"Did any of you actually read your damn books, or are you all planning to wing it as usual?" He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A few students snickered, and a hand shot up in the back. Zayn pointed, bracing himself for whatever excuse would come next.

"Um, I read most of it," one girl mumbled, her cheeks pink as she tried—and failed—to meet his eyes.

Zayn sighed, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head with a mock look of disappointment. "Most of it?" he repeated, sounding scandalized. "So what, you just skipped the boring parts?"

The girl laughed nervously, nodding. "Kind of..."

Zayn rolled his eyes, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Unbelievable. You lot are hopeless." He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on Aisha, who was watching him with a mix of curiosity and... something else. He narrowed his eyes slightly, giving her a look that made her quickly glance away.

Aisha wasn't used to feeling flustered, especially not over a teacher, but Zayn Malik had an effect that was hard to ignore. There was something about him—the confidence, the humor, the way he commanded the room without even trying. And yeah, maybe it didn't hurt that he looked like he belonged on a magazine cover rather than in front of a classroom.

Zayn moved on, strolling down the aisles as he talked, each step casual but with purpose. "Let me guess," he continued, his tone sarcastic. "Half of you probably just read the damn SparkNotes, didn't you?"

There were a few guilty laughs, and Zayn sighed dramatically. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself, loud enough for the class to hear. "Here I am, pouring my heart and soul into teaching, and you lot can't even be arsed to read a few pages."

He glanced over his shoulder, catching Aisha's eye again, and this time she held his gaze. There was a challenge in her eyes, like she was daring him to call her out, and Zayn couldn't help but be intrigued. He wasn't used to students staring him down like that, especially not with that hint of defiance.

"You there, new girl," he said, his tone challenging. "You actually read it, or are you just here to look pretty and make me think you did?"

Aisha blinked, caught off guard, but she quickly recovered, lifting her chin. "I read it," she replied, her voice steady.

Zayn's smirk widened, clearly pleased with her response. "Good. At least one of you isn't completely hopeless." He paused, glancing around the room, then added, "But don't think that means I'm gonna go easy on you, Aisha."

There was a ripple of laughter from the other students, and Aisha felt her cheeks heat up slightly, but she didn't back down. She knew he was testing her, and she wasn't about to let him win that easily.

The rest of the class went by in a blur of sarcasm, dry humor, and Zayn's relentless jabs at the students who tried to fake their way through the discussion. He had a knack for cutting through the nonsense, and he didn't hold back. By the time the bell rang, the students were both entertained and exhausted, and Zayn couldn't hide the hint of satisfaction on his face as he watched them file out.

That evening, Zayn was back behind the bar, slipping into the comfort of his second job like a second skin. Here, there were no students, no textbooks, just the dim lighting, the hum of voices, and the steady rhythm of his movements as he mixed drinks with ease.

One of the regulars leaned against the bar, watching him with a grin. "Hey, Zayn. You look like you're in a good mood tonight. Rough day at school?"

Zayn chuckled, pouring a measure of whiskey into a glass and sliding it across the bar. "You could say that. Kids these days, I swear. They're more interested in staring at me than actually reading the damn books I assign."

The regular laughed, shaking his head. "Can't blame 'em, mate. You're practically a rock star in that classroom of yours. The young ones are probably all over you."

Zayn shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "They try. I let 'em have their fun, but I make sure they know who's in charge."

The man chuckled, raising his glass in a mock salute. "Here's to keeping 'em on their toes."

Zayn clinked his glass with the man's, feeling the warmth of the whiskey as he took a sip. It was a good night, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he was exactly where he wanted to be. In the classroom, he was in control. Behind the bar, he was invisible, just another guy mixing drinks. It was a strange balance, but it was one he had grown comfortable with.

And as he glanced around the bar, watching the familiar faces and the new ones, he couldn't help but wonder what Monday would bring, and if maybe, just maybe, the new girl in his class would finally crack the walls he had spent so long building.