The Story of us

Chapter Nineteen: Entanglement

"They're late. How could they be late? How could they make someone like me wait around for them - ?"

Such were the scandalised words coming out of Zayn Malik's mouth.

"Something probably came up," I tried to pacify him as the amusement park behind us rang with laughter, talk and screams - none of which helped my already frayed nerves. "And don't lash out at them, okay?" I added half-warningly and half-imploringly to Zayn. "Danielle is a very precious friend to me, and her boyfriend is just as important."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, okay. But if they don't come in the next five minutes..."

This may have been a very bad idea, I thought ominously, dithering on the spot as I looked around for any sign of Danielle.

It had already been fifteen minutes, which in Zayn Malik's books was equivalent to an hour. He looked distinctly disgruntled now as he stood there, arms folded and lower lip jutted out a bit. Today he was wearing a black leather jacket over a blue shirt, emphasising his dark skin and brown eyes. I couldn't help noticing the few intrigued looks Zayn was attracting. It annoyed me for some reason, especially when I looked down at myself.

Like Zayn who actually looked like the heir of a rich company, I looked completely ordinary. I hadn't had time to put much thought into my outfit. This morning I'd pulled on my comfortable grey jeans, a plain shirt and a black vest hoodie.

"Layla!"

Danielle was calling out my name, apology in her harmonious voice as she rushed over towards us. "Layla," she gasped, grabbing my arms as she halted herself. "Sorry we're late - Robert woke up late - and then we got stuck in traffic - and I'm sorry! Hi, Zayn," she added, smiling uncertainly at the wooden boy. To Zayn's credit, he managed a half-smile and gave a shrug to let her know it was okay. I felt profoundly relieved and smiled at the still-gasping-for-breath Danielle.

"It's fine," I assured her, "And you didn't have to run here, you know - "

"What's up, everyone?" greeted a loud voice, cutting me off. A tall, brown-haired boy had appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, grinning broadly at Zayn and I.

"I'm Rob," he said charmingly, "Hey, you must be Layla, right? Danielle always talks about you."

"Oh - yeah," I said, quickly taking his outstretched hand and hitching on a smile, "Nice to meet you. Umm..." I glanced at Zayn, who was regarding Rob with an impassive countenance. His arms were still folded.

"This is Zayn, my..."

But I didn't have to finish my sentence. In slight horror, both Danielle and I watched as Rob stepped forward and clapped Zayn hard on the shoulder, almost unbalancing him. The expression on Zayn's face tautened infinitesimally and I sucked in my breath.

Oh dear.

"Hey, Zayn - pretty weird yet unique name isn't it? Well, nice meeting you anyway, buddy!" Rob grinned, oblivious to the tension. "Andwhoa, nice hair colour. How much dye did you have to use to get it like that?" He was gawking at Zayn's hair with impolite incredulity and I swallowed nervously. Zayn's eyes were as hard as stones.

Oh dear.

"Um - let's go get tickets, Robbie!" Danielle exclaimed, clearly sensing the danger. She seized her boyfriend's arm and pulled him towards the ticket gates.

Zayn's eyes were narrowed after them.

"What," he growled, "Is wrong with that guy? He turns up late and doesn't even apologise? And then... my hair... what dye...?" His disbelief was so paramount it was rendering him speechless. If I wasn't so anxious, I would have laughed.