Between the Lines

Chapter 15: Eyes on Me

The morning sun streamed through the blinds as Zayn stood in front of his mirror, staring at his reflection. Today, he was going to make an impact. The day ahead wasn't just another class—it was a chance to grab attention and keep it. He had four new students who had no idea what they were walking into.

He smirked, eyeing his outfit in the mirror. He'd chosen a tighter shirt today, one that clung just enough to show off the muscles he'd spent years perfecting. A snug black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, paired with well-fitted trousers that accentuated his lean build. His hair was styled perfectly, just messy enough to look effortlessly sexy.

Today was about making sure the class—and those four new boys—knew exactly who was in charge. Especially the three British blokes and that cheeky Irish lad. They had no idea the storm they were about to walk into.

Zayn walked into class, already feeling the familiar buzz of energy that came with the students. As he entered, the usual smattering of flirtatious glances from the girls was immediately noticeable, but today, his eyes focused on the four new boys sitting near the back. He saw Louis first, with that mischievous grin that made him look like trouble. Then there was Harry, with his trademark curls and confident aura. Zayn's eyes flicked to Niall, who was already giving him that easygoing smile that made Zayn's heart skip a beat, just a little. And last, Liam—serious and studious as always, his gaze focused and determined.

Zayn leaned against the chalkboard, flashing a wicked grin. "Right then, class. I know you're all so thrilled to be here today, especially after last night's wild adventures," he said with a knowing smirk, addressing the class of students who were either trying to hide their hangovers or desperately trying to act cool.

"Let's get to it. We're diving into the symbolism behind the main character's motivations today. You know, the deep stuff. The sort of questions that might just make you question your entire existence." He paused for dramatic effect, watching as some of the girls leaned forward, hanging on to every word.

"So, who wants to tell me what motivates our main character?" Zayn asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He was used to this—waiting for someone to actually attempt an answer.

Louis, as expected, shot his hand up, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm gonna guess... he wants to hook up with the girl?"

The class chuckled, and Zayn rolled his eyes. "Well, Louis, that's one way to put it, but let's dig a little deeper, shall we?" Zayn shot back, his tone playful but sharp. He knew how to keep them on their toes, especially Louis, who would challenge him at every turn.

Harry raised his hand next, leaning back in his chair with a look of genuine curiosity. "Maybe it's more about the idea of freedom, like he's looking for something outside of the expectations placed on him?"

Zayn gave him a nod of approval. "Bingo, Styles. Now you're thinking. Freedom, rebellion, maybe even love... all that good stuff. You guys ever think about what you'd do if you were free of all the shit society throws at you?"

Niall, looking far too charming for his own good, raised his hand slowly. "So... freedom's the thing? Even if it means doing something dumb?"

Zayn met Niall's eyes, feeling that little jolt in his chest. "Exactly. Sometimes freedom means taking risks, making mistakes, and doing things that, in hindsight, you might regret. But that's life, lads. You learn by screwing up."

The class fell into a thoughtful silence, the students scribbling notes. The usual group of girls were practically swooning over Zayn as he paced around the front of the room, his presence commanding the space without even trying.

"Alright, assignments. Get those essays in by Friday. If you don't, don't bother showing up next week. Understand?"

The class muttered in agreement, some clearly relieved they weren't being given a pop quiz. Zayn finished the lesson with a few sarcastic remarks about not ruining the novel with their terrible interpretations, sending the class into fits of laughter before they packed up to leave.

After class, Zayn made his way to the teacher's lounge, where the usual faces greeted him. As he walked in, a few of the older teachers stopped their conversation and glanced up, clearly taken aback by his presence. Zayn always got this effect on people—he was magnetic, and they knew it.

"So, Mr. Malik," one of the teachers said with a smirk, "how's the new batch of students treating you?"

Zayn leaned against the counter, casually sipping his coffee. "Oh, they're... charming. Except for Louis, he's a pain in the ass. But the others? They're manageable."

The teachers chuckled, knowing exactly what he meant. Zayn didn't sugarcoat things, and they all respected that.

The final class of the day passed in a blur, with Zayn keeping his focus on teaching while trying to block out the lingering thoughts of Niall's smile. The class was full of more flirtatious glances from the girls, but Zayn played it cool, keeping the lesson moving without breaking his stride.

By the time the bell rang, Zayn was ready to call it a day. He headed home for a quick meal—nothing fancy, just a sandwich and a beer—and then hopped in the shower. The water ran over his body, washing away the tension from the day. He couldn't help but let his mind wander back to the class, back to those four boys. Especially Niall. God, that Irish charm had a hold on him, and Zayn didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed.

He dressed quickly, throwing on his bartender uniform, the black shirt tight enough to show off his muscles, and his jeans snug. The night at the bar awaited.

The familiar hum of the bar greeted him as he walked in, the usual crowd already settled in. Zayn immediately went to work, serving drinks and chatting with the regulars, but something felt off tonight. The ghosts of his past were haunting him again. As he mixed a drink, the memories of his stepdad—harsh, demanding, cruel—slipped through the cracks in his mind like they always did.

He shook off the feeling and focused on his work. He needed to keep busy, keep moving. He started with The Twilight Twist, a combination of bourbon, sweet vermouth, and a dash of orange bitters. He slid the drink across the bar with a wink to the regular at the end.

"This one's got a bit of an edge to it," he said, watching the guy take a sip and nod approvingly.

Next up was The Phantom Kiss—gin, lime, mint, and a splash of soda. Zayn topped it off with a fresh sprig of mint, handing it to another customer. "This one's light, refreshing, but with a kiss of bitterness," he said, giving them a knowing smirk.

But as he worked, the shadows came closer. The whispers of his past, the cold touch of his memories, flickered in his mind. Zayn clenched his jaw, pushing through it. He wasn't going to let them take over—not tonight.

The night wore on, and Zayn found himself in a routine: mixing drinks, cracking jokes, and dodging the flirtations from the women in the bar. But every now and then, his mind would wander to those new boys from class—especially Niall. The attraction was growing stronger, and Zayn had no idea how he was going to keep it under control.

At the end of the shift, as the bar quieted down, Zayn stood behind the counter, letting the silence settle around him. The ghosts had quieted for now. But Zayn knew they would be back—just like everything else.

Tomorrow was another day. Another chance to teach. And maybe—just maybe—he'd get a little closer to finding out what these new boys were all about.