Between the Lines

Chapter 10: Breaking the Ice

The classroom buzzed with that particular brand of teenage grumbling reserved for days when actual work was required. Zayn leaned back on his desk, watching his students with a mix of amusement and exasperation as they rifled through their notebooks, muttering complaints and generally looking as if they'd just been handed a life sentence.

"Alright, I get it, I get it," Zayn said, raising his hands mockingly. "Work is hard, reading is a nightmare, and having to think? God forbid." He shot a wicked grin toward the front row. "But, guess what? You're all here to actually learn, so if you don't get your heads out of your arses and start taking this seriously, I'll make this assignment twice as hard."

The class groaned louder, and Zayn couldn't help but chuckle. They were good kids, but he wasn't about to let them slack off on his watch. It was too easy to get away with things in life, and he'd be damned if his students left his class thinking half-effort was good enough.

"Mr. Malik, come on," one of the girls, Chloe, whined, pouting as she twirled a strand of her hair. "Can't you, like, take it easy on us? You look way too hot to be this mean."

Zayn raised a brow, amused. "Nice try, Chloe, but just because I know you all think I'm hot doesn't mean I'm gonna be a pushover. Especially not for someone who's barely turned in half her assignments this term."

Another girl, Jessica, leaned forward with a flirty smile. "Maybe if you gave us private tutoring sessions, we'd, y'know, perform better."

Zayn fought back a laugh, instead opting to give her a look that was somewhere between amused and incredulous. "If you think private tutoring is going to save you from this essay, you're out of luck, love. But I appreciate the creativity."

The boys in the back snickered, clearly amused at the scene unfolding in front of them, though there was still a bit of that awe-struck look in their eyes. They all admired him, and Zayn knew it. But respect wasn't handed over just because he looked the part. They had to earn it.

Once the flirting died down, Zayn took control of the room again, shifting back into teacher mode. "Alright, enough of that. Now, who actually read the book? And don't lie, because I'll know."

Hands rose slowly, as if lifting a ten-pound weight, and Zayn sighed. At least some of them had done the work. He nodded to Aisha, who raised her hand confidently. As usual, she was one of the few who didn't just stare at him like he was a damn movie star.

"Aisha, enlighten the class," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "What did you get out of the reading?"

Aisha cleared her throat, and the room seemed to shift as she spoke, her voice cutting through the chatter. "I thought it was interesting how the protagonist's self-doubt affected every decision he made. It was like, even though he was capable, he was holding himself back just because he couldn't see his own potential."

Zayn nodded, genuinely impressed. "Good insight. Self-doubt's a hell of a thing. It messes with you, makes you think you're less than you are." His gaze lingered on her for a second before he looked around the room. "Take notes, people. That is how you analyze a character."

The rest of the class rolled their eyes, clearly not thrilled with Aisha setting the bar. But Zayn knew better than to let them coast by.

"And by the way," he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "if I catch anyone else slacking on this next assignment, expect an extra five pages added to your essay. Think of it as motivation."

A chorus of groans erupted, and Zayn chuckled, satisfied. He liked keeping them on their toes. The day was a success; he could tell he'd finally managed to get through to them, even if they didn't like it.

That night, Zayn was back at the bar, moving behind the counter with the ease of someone who knew the place like the back of his hand. He worked in silence, pouring shots and mixing drinks, enjoying the rhythmic clinking of glass and the hum of conversation around him.

Tonight, he wanted to try something different. He grabbed a few bottles, scanning his options before deciding on a new concoction. He poured whiskey into a shaker, adding a splash of elderflower liqueur, some bitters, and a twist of lemon. After a vigorous shake, he poured it over ice, garnishing it with a sprig of rosemary for a subtle, smoky aroma.

He took a sip, tasting his creation with a nod of approval. "Not bad," he murmured to himself. "We'll call that one... the Soul Sipper."

Just as he was sliding the drink over to a customer, something caught his eye near the entrance. He blinked, momentarily stunned. It was Aisha. She'd walked in with a group of friends, clearly oblivious to the fact that her English teacher was the one behind the bar.

Zayn stifled a laugh, watching as her eyes scanned the room. When they finally landed on him, her expression shifted from casual curiosity to outright shock. She mouthed, "Mr. Malik?" and he raised a brow in response, giving her a playful smirk.

Aisha approached the bar, her friends trailing behind, all wide-eyed and giggling. Zayn chuckled, leaning forward on the counter. "Didn't expect to see your teacher behind the bar, did you?"

Aisha shook her head, looking a little embarrassed. "No, sir," she replied, biting back a grin.

He rolled his eyes. "None of that 'sir' crap here, Aisha. It's Zayn after hours."

Her friends giggled, nudging each other. Aisha's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and Zayn found himself amused by the whole situation. He wasn't trying to flirt with her—not really. But he couldn't deny the slight thrill in seeing her in a setting that wasn't the classroom.

"So," he said, leaning in conspiratorially, "what can I get you and your friends? Or are you all too young to be here?"

Aisha laughed, looking a little more at ease. "We're all legal, don't worry. And we'll take whatever your specialty is."

Zayn grinned. "Alright then. You asked for it."

He grabbed a few more bottles, quickly concocting a second drink to impress the group. This time, he went with a blend of gin, hibiscus syrup, and a splash of tonic, shaking it with ice before pouring it into a tall glass. He garnished it with a slice of cucumber and a twist of lime.

"Here we go," he said, sliding the drinks over to the group. "That's called The Velvet Rush. Try not to get too attached, it's one of a kind."

Aisha took a sip, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, that's... really good."

Zayn smirked. "You sound surprised. I may be a teacher, but I know what I'm doing behind the bar too."

The group laughed, sipping their drinks and glancing around the bar. Zayn took the opportunity to give Aisha a mock-stern look. "You better not expect any special treatment in class after this."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of it."

He grinned, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. He liked seeing this side of her, outside the constraints of school. But just as quickly, the shadows of his past crept into his mind, a whisper of dark memories flickering at the edges of his thoughts. The bar suddenly felt too loud, too bright, and he found himself drifting away, lost in a haze of half-formed images.

His stepdad's voice echoed in his mind, harsh and cutting, the ghost of a memory he couldn't quite shake. "You'll never be good enough, Zayn. Never."

Shaking off the memory, he forced himself to refocus, hiding the pain behind a forced grin as he continued to work.

"Another round, ladies?" he asked, trying to push the darkness aside. He poured them another round, and this time, he created a new drink just to keep his mind busy—vodka, muddled basil, and a hint of blackberry liqueur, topped with a dash of soda water.

He called it The Midnight Whisper.

As he handed over the drink, he caught Aisha's eye and gave her a small smile. She returned it, unaware of the storm that had just passed through his mind. For tonight, he'd keep his ghosts to himself.