Baby Lips

Chapter 12

It is hard to focus in a theory of mathematics class. But it is even more hard to focus in a theory of mathematics class when you have plans with Zayn Malik right after. My antsy, clammy hands fidgeted in my lap. I did my best to stare down my professor. I tried so hard to actually listen to what she was saying about formulas and such that I had already learned about prior to taking this class, but my mind kept wandering off into its own imaginary world.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was going to say once I saw Zayn. Or what he would be wearing. Or if what I was wearing was too much or not good enough. I kept wondering if it would be a bit awkward between us at first, but based on the flow of our telephone conversation Thursday, it wouldn’t be awkward at all. 

My professor began to pack up her things and my ears perked up. I rested my elbows on my open notebook as I finally listened to her closing words.

“Class dismissed, but don’t forget your paper’s due tonight by seven o’clock.” She scanned her beady eyes over the rim of her red glasses. “Sharp.” She swung her black messenger bag over her shoulder and strutted out of the the classroom on her worn out heels.

I slammed my back against the chair in a fit of frustration. My head falling in my hands. I mumbled curse words under my breath. How could I forget that paper? She had been reminding us about it non-stop! And it was due tonight, when I had plans with Zayn Malik for God’s sake. My fingers gripped my messy brown hair that fell flat on either side of my head.

“What’s wrong?” I heard an accented voice call from my left. I looked through my fingers at the girl who the voice belonged too. I furrowed my thick eyebrows in confusion. “Harry Styles hasn’t called you back yet?” Her tone was mocking as she rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. 

I exhaled loudly, trying to shake off that broad and her comment. I quickly shoved my things in my large cross body bag and tossed my tangled hair in a messy bun. I ran out of the classroom with my head low and eyes on my feet.

My balled fist hovered over Zayn’s door for a moment, but I quickly knocked twice and retracted my  hand back to my side. I took a shaky breath when I heard a lock being turned and the door swung open. Zayn smiled as he leaned his forearm against the door frame. The other one brought up to his mouth as he took a slow bite of his red apple. 

“Hi.” I whispered. He wore a black v-neck and jeans. His tanned skin looking even darker against the contrast of the colors he wore. He pushed himself off the door frame.  

“How are you?” He asked motioning me to step inside. I nodded and stepped next to him. He closed the door behind me and I marveled at his flat.  

It was what you expected from a boy’s living quarters. It was messy, but not too bad. He had a lot of paintings hung up on the wall as well as albums tossed around a stereo in the living room. I would like nothing more than to spend at least an hour just exploring this place, but I don’t think Zayn would approve of that. Maybe some other time... 

“I’m great.” I smiled and adjusted the scarf around my neck. “How about you?” Zayn shrugged and chewed another piece of his apple.  

“I’m alright.” Zayn began to walk into his living room, I hesitated before I followed him. “Your class was good?” He asked. I winced when I remembered my paper due. I had written some in my notebook on the train ride up, yet I still had a large portion of it to write. And it was due in T minus five hours. Zayn quirked an eyebrow, confused at my facial expression. 

“Do you have a computer?” I asked. I knew the answer would be yes, but I doesn’t hurt to ask. Zayn laughed lightly. 

“Yeah... why?” He crossed his arms over his chest. My eyes lingered on the tattoos on either of his arms. I would much rather be diving into a conversation about the meaning of them rather than my school work.