Zayn:
You ever find yourself in the middle of something you absolutely didn’t want to do, just because you didn’t have the guts to say no? Yeah, that was me and camping. And, of course, the mastermind behind this brilliant decision was none other than Zayn Malik.
I don’t do nature. I don’t do bugs. I don’t even like the idea of being outside if there’s a chance that something might crawl on me. But Zayn? Oh, he was all about it. “It’ll be fun!” he said, grinning. “We’ll disconnect from everything and just enjoy nature, you know?”
I should’ve known that was a bad idea. But I was too nice to tell him, “Zayn, I hate the outdoors. I’d rather stay home with a blanket fort and a Netflix marathon.” So, against every instinct I had, I agreed to go camping.
Big mistake.
We set up camp in this picturesque spot in the middle of nowhere, and I was already regretting it as soon as we arrived. Zayn was all smiles, tossing our bags to the side while I stood there, eyeing every rustling leaf and shadow like it might be the next thing to kill me. I could feel the creepy-crawlies watching me, and I was just waiting for one of them to make their move.
But it wasn’t until we were all settled in, lounging in our tent, when the true nightmare began.
A freaking ant invasion.
At first, it was just one or two little ants crawling up the side of the tent. And I thought, okay, maybe it’s fine. Maybe it’s just one of those little things that doesn’t really matter. But no. Oh no. The ants weren’t content with being a few. They started marching in a line—straight into our tent, no hesitation, like they owned the place.
Before I knew it, our entire tent was swarming with ants. They were everywhere: on my sleeping bag, in my shoes, on the water bottle, and of course, the worst place — my hair. My hair. I could feel them crawling through it like it was a highway, and that was the moment I absolutely lost it.
“Zayn!” I shrieked, slapping at my head like I was in some kind of horror movie. “Get them off me! Get them off!”
Zayn was laughing his head off. Laughing! The man was standing there, leaning against the tent pole, thoroughly entertained by my complete meltdown. “Oh my god, you should see your face,” he said between fits of laughter.
“You’re laughing?” I screamed. “There’s ants in my hair, Zayn! Ants! In. My. Hair!” I was starting to panic, swatting at everything around me, willing myself to not completely lose it.
“Okay, okay,” he said, trying to stifle his laughter, but failing miserably. “Relax, I’ll get them out. Just calm down.” He stepped forward like he was about to rescue me, but he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to be useful.
I was practically hyperventilating by this point, wanting nothing more than to pack up and leave. “This is it,” I groaned. “I’m done. I’m going home. This is the worst vacation of my life.”
Zayn finally managed to calm down enough to help, gently brushing the ants off me like I was a delicate flower. “You’re seriously overreacting,” he said with that smile of his that made me want to smack him. “It’s just ants.”
“It’s not just ants, Zayn,” I huffed, pulling my knees to my chest. “This is my worst nightmare. I hate bugs, I hate camping, and I want to go home.”
Eventually, after what felt like hours of squishing ants and Zayn trying to soothe me with his “It’s all part of the experience” nonsense, I finally crawled into my sleeping bag, glaring at the ceiling of the tent. Zayn, on the other hand, was still grinning like he’d just won a prize.
