Between the Lines

Chapter 13: Class in Session

Another school day, another round of flirtation, smirks, and sidelong glances from every high school girl with a pulse and a penchant for charm. Zayn knew the drill; he'd grown almost bored of it. Almost. But there was always that bit of amusement in seeing his students fumble around trying to impress him. As he strode into class, his confidence filling the room, he couldn't help but give them something to swoon over.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice smooth, rich with his Bradford accent, and just casual enough to feel like he was doing them a favor by being here. "Hope you all did the reading. Though I have my doubts."

A collective groan rippled through the classroom, and Zayn's smirk deepened.

Jessica, one of the more forward ones, raised her hand before he even finished his sentence. "Mr. Malik, I was wondering if... you might, um, go over that part in the story where the protagonist finds their, uh, 'true love.' I think it might help me understand things... better."

Zayn crossed his arms, his smirk shifting to something slightly more mischievous. "Right. 'True love,' Jessica? Didn't take you for the romantic type."

She blushed, giving a shy laugh, and he raised an eyebrow at the rest of the class, thoroughly amused by the light tension in the room.

"Anyone else want me to... interpret the themes of 'true love' in Romeo and Juliet, or was that just Jessica's way of stalling for time?" He delivered the line with a deadpan humor, which earned a few scattered laughs—and more than a few sidelong glances.

Zayn continued with his lesson, occasionally pausing to toss out sarcastic remarks and give his students the kind of dry, sly humor that had them hanging on his every word. He liked to pretend it was all routine, but he knew he enjoyed it. There was something amusing about seeing high school students trip over themselves to catch his attention.

When the bell finally rang, Zayn made his way to the teachers' lounge, steeling himself for the inevitable introductions. It wasn't often he bothered going in there, but today he needed a break—and a decent cup of coffee that didn't taste like regret.

As he walked in, the room went quiet, and he couldn't help but notice a few raised eyebrows. The other teachers clearly hadn't been expecting him; they eyed him like a novelty item they didn't know what to make of.

"Ah, you're the new English teacher," one of them remarked. "Malik, right?"

"That's right," he said, offering a nod as he poured himself a cup. "Zayn Malik. You must be the other half of the staff room coffee addict support group?"

A few chuckles broke out, and he relaxed a bit. It didn't take long before he was fielding the usual questions—where he was from, what brought him here, and so on. He answered politely, with just enough charm to keep them interested, and soon enough, even the skeptical looks softened.

"Well," one teacher joked, "at least now we know why the students suddenly started showing up to English class on time."

Zayn just gave a half-smile, not denying it. He knew what kind of effect he had on people, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

Later in the day, he walked into his next class, taking in a fresh set of faces. And, as he expected, the attention was instant. The girls stared, not at all subtly, and the boys gave him the sort of respect that was half awe, half envy.

"All right, listen up," he began, giving the group a level stare. "I know the weekend probably wiped out whatever attention span you had left, but we're getting through this unit whether you're ready or not. Any questions before I get started?"

A few hands shot up, mostly from girls who he knew had barely even read the book. One of them asked about the symbolism of something or other, her eyes barely on the text in front of her.

"Yeah, well, Shakespeare wrote this to make you think, not just give you lines to memorize," Zayn replied dryly. "So do yourselves a favor and try to actually think about it. It might hurt a little, but you'll survive."

The class chuckled, and he went on, running them through the lesson with just the right amount of sarcasm to keep them on their toes.

After school, he finally got a break. Back at his apartment, he threw together a quick dinner and took a much-needed shower, letting the hot water wash away the day. The shower was the one time he allowed himself to truly unwind, scrubbing off the day's grind and letting himself just exist in the quiet for a bit. He brushed his hair back, got dressed, and headed out to the bar for his evening shift.

At the bar, the usual regulars were waiting. The familiar atmosphere helped him slip into his role as bartender easily. He didn't have to think too hard, just listen, pour, mix, and deliver—his favorite kind of work after a long day.

He decided to experiment with some new drinks, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and infusing it with orange peel and a hint of bitters. He called it The Bradford Burn and handed it over to a curious regular.

"This one's got a kick," Zayn warned, a grin tugging at his lips. "Try not to spill it."

The regular laughed, taking a sip, his eyes widening. "Damn, Zayn. You really are a wizard with these."

Zayn chuckled, already moving on to his next creation—a smoky cocktail he called The Midnight Haze, with dark rum, a touch of black cherry, and a drop of vanilla essence. He served it to another regular, who took one sip and gave him a thumbs-up.

The night wore on, and soon enough, a girl at the bar sidled up to him. She gave him a sultry smile, leaning in a bit too close. "So, Zayn, think you could spare a drink for a girl who appreciates the finer things?"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. "I might, but only if you don't start with that line. Try again."

She laughed, adjusting her approach. "All right, fine. What's the best drink you can make?"

"Depends on the night—and my mood," he replied smoothly, already grabbing a glass and throwing together another of his signature cocktails. "This one's called On the Rocks. Strong, but keeps you coming back for more."

She took a sip, her eyes lighting up. "You've got skills, Malik."

"I try," he replied with a smirk.

As the night wound down, Zayn found himself heading home with her. It was a quiet night, and for once, he allowed himself a bit of company. By morning, after a steamy night, he brewed his coffee, ate a quick breakfast, and took a shower. And as soon as he was ready, he saw her out the door without so much as a word. It was just another night, and he didn't waste time dwelling on it.

When she was gone, he pulled on his jacket, downed the last sip of coffee, and made his way out the door, ready for whatever the day at school would bring.