Fifteen Minutes (Zarry AU)

Chapter 4

Zayn doesn’t expect to see Harry again for a while, not until he has some sketches to show him, so when he walks into the bar, he thinks it must be a coincidence. But Harry heads straight for the bar and says hello with a loose smile, his hand in his hair.

‘Hey,’ Zayn says with a frown, wondering if they made plans and he forgot.

‘You alright?’ Harry asks, fidgeting on the spot.

‘Yeah. Are you alright?’

Harry nods, one of his dark curls catching in his eyelashes. ‘You?’

‘I’m still alright,’ Zayn says, eyeing him warily.

This isn’t the Harry who showed up at his door yesterday morning and shoved a plastic bag in his face. He isn’t babbling and trying to touch everything, so when he tugs his hair and clears his throat, Zayn holds his breath. If he didn’t know better he’d think that Harry had come to the bar to break up with him.

‘Just meeting someone for a drink,’ he says.

‘Oh.’ Zayn relaxes. ‘Date?’

‘Something like that.’

Harry won’t look at him, but Zayn sees him bite his lip. He likes her. But before Zayn can ask who she is, someone at the other end of the bar says his name and he goes to take her order. When he comes back, Harry is tugging a plastic bag off his wrist.

‘Been shopping?’ he asks, turning to grab a bottle from the shelf behind him.

‘Birthday present for a mate.’

Zayn smirks as he pours some vodka into the cocktail shaker on the bar then puts the bottle back on the shelf. ‘I’m just trying to picture you in Kristina Records.’

‘Hey,’ Harry says, feigning indignation. ‘I’m cool.’

As if to prove the point, he hops onto one of the stools, then almost falls off. He grabs the edge of the bar to steady himself and Zayn spills the passion fruit juice that he’s pouring into the cocktail shaker as he reaches over the bar to grab his wrist. As soon as he does, Harry cracks up laughing and puts his face in his hands.

‘Yeah, you’re the coolest,’ Zayn tells him, wiping the fruit juice off his hand with a bar towel.

Harry looks at him through his fingers. ‘Am I going to be deported back to Camden?’

‘Depends,’ Zayn says, tilting his head as he puts the lid on the cocktail shaker and starts shaking it. The ice rattles loudly and he can’t resist timing each shake to the Donna Summer song playing. ‘What’d you get your mate?’

‘A King Tubby album he’s been trying to track down for ages.’

‘King Tubby? That’s kind of cool.’

Harry perks up at that, taking his hands away from his face. ‘Yeah?’

‘I suppose,’ Zayn says with a slow smile. And with that, he’s back to the Harry he met yesterday, hands and eyes everywhere as Zayn pours the contents of the cocktail shaker through a strainer into a martini glass and fills a shot glass with prosecco.

‘What’s that?’ he asks, pulling a straw out of the box on the bar and chewing on the end then taking a cherry and popping it in his mouth like it’s a fucking buffet.

‘A Pornstar Martini,’ Zayn says over his shoulder as he carries the drinks down the bar to the girl with Lego red hair waiting with a £10 note in her hand.

‘Can I have one?’

‘You got money?’ Zayn asks, walking back to him and crossing his arms.

‘Do you accept credit cards?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then hell yeah, I got money.’

Zayn shouldn’t encourage him, but he can’t help but smile and when Harry smiles back – slow and smooth – Zayn begins to question his motives again. But before he can tell himself to look away, Ben appears.

‘Not interrupting, am I?’ he says, taking a long look at Harry – at his Pink Floyd t-shirt and white Converse – before tilting his cheek towards Zayn. Zayn knows what he’s thinking, but Harry introduces himself before he can say anything.

‘I’m Harry Styles,’ he says with a massive smile, swivelling his stool to hold his hand out to Ben, who just looks at it, then looks at Zayn again.

Ben waits a beat then says, ‘Harry?’ His eyebrows lift as he does, and Zayn doesn’t know how he does it, how he says people’s names as though they’re lying.

Zayn gives him a Be nice look and Ben reluctantly shakes Harry’s hand.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Harry,’ he says, doing the name thing again.

‘Nice to meet you, too, Ben,’ Harry says, unfazed, swivelling back to face Zayn.

‘So,’ Ben says, sitting on the stool next to Harry’s as Zayn turns to get him a bottle of Peroni from the fridge, ‘how do you two know each other, then?’

Zayn’s surprised, he looks amused, taking the bottle with a smug smirk.

But then Harry says, ‘I’m a friend of Dan’s’ and the corners of Ben’s mouth fall. He’s about to say something, when Harry adds, ‘I say friend. I hate him. Prick.’

Ben blinks a few times, then laughs. ‘I might like this one.’

Harry looks confused. ‘One what?’

‘Ignore him,’ Zayn tells him. ‘Harry’s in that band-’

Ben interrupts with another laugh. ‘Of course he is!’

Zayn crosses his arms and tilts his head at him. ‘Harry’s in that band we saw the other night at the Dublin. He’s asked me to do some artwork for his demo.’

‘And how’s this one gonna pay you?’ He nods at Harry. ‘Same way as Dan?’

Zayn glares at him, but when Ben doesn’t look away, he snatches a cloth from under the bar and starts wiping it down. Harry doesn’t seem to notice. ‘It’s alright,’ he says, reaching for another cherry. ‘I’m going on the game so I’ll have money.’

Ben blinks at him again then turns to Zayn, shaking his head. ‘Don’t.’

Zayn tries not to smile. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘If he plays the ukulele, I swear to God.’

Zayn laughs and when he looks Harry, he looks confused. ‘I’m sitting right here.’

‘Sorry,’ Zayn says, a hand to his chest.

‘What’s wrong with the ukulele?’

Ben laughs – a huge belly laugh – and stands up. ‘I can’t.’ He shakes his head and waves his hand between Zayn and Harry. ‘I’m going to say hello to Dixie.’

‘Ignore him,’ Zayn tells Harry as he wanders off. ‘He’s just overprotective.’

Harry goes to reach for another cherry and when Zayn slaps his hand, he sits back on the stool with a pout. ‘Why? What’s he got to be overprotective about?’

‘Things didn’t end so well with Dan.’

‘Why? Didn’t he pay or something? That fucker. His dad’s loaded, you know?’

Zayn scratches the back of his head. ‘Something like that.’

‘If you want me to punch Dan in the face, I’d be happy to. You know, for you.’

‘That’s very generous of you, Harry.’

Zayn lets him take a cherry this time.