Between the Lines

Chapter 19: Stirred and Shaken

Zayn woke up to sunlight streaming through his curtains, far too bright for how little sleep he'd gotten. The events of the previous day—the kiss, Niall's hand pulling him into that secluded spot—played on repeat in his mind.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. You're the adult here, Malik. Act like it.

Still, as much as he told himself to forget, his chest tightened at the thought of seeing those piercing blue eyes in class.

After a quick shower, Zayn threw on a fitted black shirt that clung to his torso and slim, dark jeans that accentuated his long legs. His leather jacket completed the look—more rockstar than teacher, but it was Zayn. He was always going to command attention, and he liked it that way.

When he walked into his first class, the room fell silent. The students stared, as if his presence alone was enough to make them forget the chaos they usually caused. Even the usual chatterboxes were mute.

Zayn smirked, tossing his bag onto the desk. "Right then, hope you've all had your coffee, because we're about to learn something today," he said, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm.

Louis Tomlinson, sitting in the back with his feet kicked up on the desk, snorted. "You're too chipper for a Monday morning, Mr. Malik."

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Tomlinson, you're too cheeky for your own good. Keep it up, and I'll make you write a thousand-word essay on why Mondays are sacred."

The class erupted in laughter, and even Louis grinned, muttering, "Fair play."

Zayn moved to the whiteboard and started writing out examples of rhetorical devices for an upcoming essay. "Alright, who can tell me the difference between ethos and pathos? Horan?"

Niall's head shot up, his face flushed slightly. "Uh... pathos is about emotions, and ethos is about... credibility?"

Zayn nodded, his expression neutral. "Good. Surprised you're paying attention today, Horan. I was worried you'd forgotten how to think after yesterday's... stroll."

Niall's jaw dropped, and Louis cackled from the back. "What's this, Nialler? You've been getting special lessons outside class?"

"Shut up, Tomlinson," Niall muttered, his face bright red.

Zayn smirked but quickly shifted his attention back to the lesson, keeping his focus sharp.

By the end of the class, Zayn had the students actively participating. Even Harry Styles, who often leaned more toward silently observing, raised his hand to ask a question about the essay structure. Liam Payne nodded along, taking detailed notes, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Zayn let himself feel a small sense of pride. Maybe I'm not a complete failure at this teaching gig.

After class, Zayn made his way to the teachers' lounge. The coffee machine was broken—again—so he stood with a mug of instant coffee, trying not to grimace as he sipped the bitter liquid.

One of the older teachers, Mr. Johnson, raised an eyebrow. "You look like you've been through it, Malik."

"You'd look like this too if you had my lot," Zayn replied, leaning against the counter.

The last class of the day blurred by, and soon Zayn was home, tossing his bag onto the couch. He cooked a simple dinner—pasta with chicken and a glass of wine—and took his time eating.

In the shower, he let the hot water wash over him, relaxing his tense muscles. But as always, his thoughts were a mess. The ghosts of his past slipped through the cracks, memories of things he'd rather forget mingling with the intensity of his current situation.

When Zayn walked into the bar that night, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking glasses greeted him. The regulars were already there, and Zayn immediately set to work, creating new drinks for them.

"Alright, listen up, you lot. Today's specials are The Quiet Riot and The Velvet Storm. First person to complain gets water."

The Quiet Riot was a concoction of vodka, raspberry liqueur, lime juice, and soda water, garnished with fresh mint. The Velvet Storm was a creamy mix of bourbon, vanilla syrup, and espresso, topped with a light dusting of cocoa powder.

The regulars were thrilled, praising Zayn's creativity between sips.

And then, just as Zayn was wiping down the counter, the door swung open, and in walked Louis, Harry, Liam, and Niall.

"Not you lot again," Zayn groaned, though his smirk betrayed him.

"Evening, Mr. Malik," Louis said with a dramatic bow. "Or should we call you Zayn like you insisted last time?"

"Zayn," Harry drawled, his voice smooth. "We were hoping you'd show us what all the fuss is about."

Zayn rolled his eyes. "One drink. That's it. If I lose my license, I'm holding all of you responsible."

The boys cheered, and Zayn set to work, creating a custom cocktail for each of them based on their personalities.

For Louis, he made The Sass Sour, a tangy blend of gin, lemon juice, and elderflower, with a rim dipped in sugar and chili powder.

For Harry, he created The Cheshire Charm, a sweet and mysterious mix of tequila, passionfruit, and a hint of smoke from mezcal.

For Liam, he served up The Balance Beam, a perfect harmony of whiskey, honey, and lemon.

And for Niall? He crafted The Irish Sunrise, a vibrant cocktail of Irish whiskey, orange juice, and grenadine, served in a tall glass with a shamrock garnish.

"You're a bloody genius," Niall said, taking a sip.

"Don't I know it," Zayn replied with a wink.

As the night went on, the boys grew bolder. Louis teased Zayn mercilessly, Harry's eyes lingered a little too long, and Liam's polite demeanor began to crack as he loosened up.

But it was Niall who surprised Zayn again, leaning across the bar and grabbing the loose tie around Zayn's neck.

"Careful, Horan," Zayn warned, though his voice was softer than usual.

Niall smirked, tugging Zayn down slightly and whispering, "Careful's no fun."

Before Zayn could respond, Niall pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and pulled away, leaving Zayn stunned.

"You're a menace," Zayn muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the bar.

"And you love it," Niall shot back, his grin widening.

By the end of the night, Zayn was exhausted but oddly satisfied. He closed up the bar, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the boys, the drinks, and the chaos they brought into his life.

As he walked home under the glow of the streetlights, he couldn't help but smile. Life's never boring, that's for sure.