Between the Lines

Chapter 5: The Quiz No one was ready for

The weekend had flown by in a hazy blur for Zayn. The bar was packed both nights, and he'd kept himself busy mixing drinks, experimenting with new combinations to impress the regulars. By Saturday night, he'd crafted a smoky bourbon drink with a dash of chili and citrus that had become a quick favorite. He enjoyed these late nights, losing himself in the quiet rhythm of pouring, shaking, stirring—small escapes from the part of his life that most people knew nothing about.

But now, it was Monday morning, and he was back in his English classroom, greeted by the familiar chatter and not-so-subtle stares. As he walked in, the room settled down, and Zayn took a moment to survey his students. The girls looked a little too eager, their eyes lighting up as they took in his usual fitted shirt and effortless style. He knew what he was doing, of course. He was good at keeping them guessing, letting them wonder just how much they could get away with.

"Alright," he said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. "Hope everyone had a thrilling weekend because I've got a little surprise for you today."

There were groans and a few nervous glances exchanged across the room. Zayn let his smirk grow, enjoying the brief moment of panic on their faces. "I did tell you to read, didn't I? And yet, I'm guessing most of you thought you could charm your way out of it." He tilted his head, his tone sarcastic and sharp. "News flash, that's not happening."

A collective sigh echoed across the room, and Zayn chuckled. "Come on, don't look at me like that. You had all weekend, didn't you? Or were you lot just too busy scrolling on your phones and doing... God knows what else."

He caught a few guilty looks and rolled his eyes. "Brilliant," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Absolute waste of bloody time, some of you." His gaze flicked over to Aisha, who was seated in the middle row, notebook open, calm and composed. She met his eyes confidently, and Zayn felt the faintest hint of satisfaction—at least someone took him seriously.

"Alright," he said, louder this time, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Pop quiz. And no, I don't care if you didn't see this coming. Life's full of surprises, innit?"

A chorus of groans erupted, and one of the girls, Natalie, fluttered her lashes at him with an exaggerated pout. "Mr. Malik, you wouldn't really do that to us, would you? I mean... it's Monday."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a shade darker. "Oh, Natalie, trust me, I would. And I am. Now put that innocent look away. It's not working." He gave her a quick wink, then looked around the room, his amusement evident. "You all act like I'm some kind of monster. It's a quiz, not a prison sentence."

He handed out the sheets, watching as the students groaned and shifted in their seats. Some had the good sense to look embarrassed, while others looked downright panicked. Zayn couldn't help but laugh softly. They could flirt, they could stare, but when it came to actually studying? Bloody hopeless.

The only one who didn't look remotely worried was Aisha. She was already writing answers down with a steady hand, the picture of focus amidst the chaos. Zayn gave her a quick nod, though he didn't miss the sideways glances the other students threw her way. It was clear some of them were annoyed that she'd actually done the work, but Aisha ignored them, her gaze never leaving the paper in front of her.

"Not so smug now, are you?" Zayn taunted the class as he walked down the aisle, hands in his pockets. He paused next to one of the guys, Sean, who was staring at his paper with a helpless expression. "What's the matter, mate? Didn't have time between your FIFA matches to read a single page?"

Sean laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean... it's just... Shakespeare, you know?"

Zayn sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, that 'just Shakespeare' is worth 20 percent of your damn grade, so maybe try not to screw it up next time." He gave Sean's desk a small tap as he walked past, glancing over at the other students struggling with the questions. His smirk softened slightly; he wouldn't admit it, but this little show of authority made Mondays far more interesting.

Zayn continued his slow walk around the classroom, casting sharp comments here and there, all with a sly grin. "Eyes on your own papers, Emma. I know you're tempted to sneak a look at Sean's, but trust me, he's got no clue either." A few students laughed, and Zayn allowed himself a small chuckle as well.

Eventually, he circled back to the front of the class, leaning back against his desk as he surveyed his students. "Alright, you've got five more minutes. Wrap it up, and don't even think about scribbling nonsense just to fill in the blanks. I'm not that daft."

Aisha glanced up just as he caught her eye again. There was something about the way she looked at him—almost like she saw through the sarcastic, guarded persona he put on every day. It was unnerving, and Zayn quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms. He wasn't about to let some teenage girl get under his skin.

When the quiz was over, he collected the papers, watching as his students filed out, grumbling under their breaths. As the last student left, he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. It had been a long morning, but he had to admit, it was somewhat satisfying watching them squirm. At least he was doing something right if he was getting under their skin.

Later that evening, Zayn found himself back at the bar, slipping into the quiet rhythm of his nighttime job. The regulars were there, as always, giving him nods of acknowledgment, while the newcomers eyed him curiously, probably wondering what the hell a guy like him was doing working a bar in a quiet town.

One of the patrons leaned across the bar, watching as Zayn poured a drink with practiced ease. "Rough day, teach?"

Zayn chuckled, pouring a dash of lime into the glass. "You have no idea, mate. Bunch of teenagers who'd rather flirt than crack a book open. Makes me wonder why I even bother sometimes."

The patron laughed, clinking his glass against the bar. "Well, at least you know they think you're hot. That's gotta count for something, eh?"

Zayn rolled his eyes, a faint smirk on his lips. "Yeah, well, not exactly the kind of validation I was looking for. But I guess it's better than nothing."

He mixed a new drink, a blend of bourbon and a secret ingredient he'd been experimenting with. It was sharp and slightly smoky, with a hint of honey that softened the edges. Zayn took a sip, nodding in approval. It was the perfect way to end a Monday—from the chaos of the classroom to the quiet solace of the bar, where he could disappear into the background and let everyone else take center stage.

But as he glanced around the dimly lit room, a faint unease tugged at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that his life was nothing but a series of carefully constructed masks, and every time he saw that look in Aisha's eyes, he wondered just how much longer he could keep them all in place.