Small Hands (Zerrie Short Story)

Chapter 2

Perrie met Driver through her older brother eight months from this night. He was charming and handsome, with wavy dark hair and striking blue eyes. His smile lit up a room and attracted everybody's attention. He was funny and likeable and attentive. Not that Zayn thought so, but he had eyes he could see why girls liked him. Driver sent her the sweetest texts and never missed an anniversary. He kissed her with purpose unlike all the other boys who didn't know what they were doing. His family was wealthy and she got to go on boat cruises on their private yacht off the coast during the summer. When they were together, she felt lighter than air. That was until she found him at a party, in an unlocked bedroom in a compromising situation with another girl. It was two thirty in the morning when Perrie called Zayn for the first time in months in hysterics. He threw on clothes, snuck out of his house and rode into the night to comfort his friend. He pulled over to the side of the house and waited for Perrie. When she finally burst out of the house, she was followed closely by Driver.

As Perrie and Driver approached, Zayn was able to hear bits and pieces of their loud and heated conversation.

"Come on, it was just a bit of fun. It wasn't serious," Driver pleaded, voice slurred and steps sloppy.

"You're disgusting. Leave me alone!" She yelled back, dirty blonde hair flying as she whipped her head around, crystal tears jetting down her tanned face. He caught up to her about a hundred feet away, his ardent hand holding her forearm in a firm grip.

Zayn felt his legs striding towards the two before he asked them to, anger mounting with each step he took. Driver let go, shocked by Zayn's determination and sudden appearance. The few times they met Zayn always seemed so unassuming if not indifferent. Boy was he wrong.

"Zayn, wait," Perrie pleaded, trying to catch his arm as he strode past her. Driver looked past him unintimidated, unaware of the strength of the lanky boy with boxy glasses. Zayn grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pinned him against a nearby tree.

"Touch her like that again and I'll kill you," He whispered, surprised by the menace in his voice.

"What's your problem?" The drunk boy mumbled, drunkenness giving way to fear.

Zayn said nothing.

"You in love with her or something?"

"Zayn!" Perrie yelled, jogging closer, but not close enough to hear this last statement.

"I'm just being protective. You don't want to see what I could do to the punk that pushes around the woman I love."

He saw the boy swallow, his adam's apple bobbing violently up and down. His point came across.

The sound of police sirens in the distance began to reach their ears, and Zayn knew it was time to go. He let go of Drive's crumpled shirt before wrapping an arm around a shocked Perrie and walking back to his car.

They drove in silence for a little ways before she explained why she called. Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. Driver was a snake: sneaky and deceitful. He acted innocent and harmless until you got too close, and poor Perrie fell for it.

Zayn dropped her off at her house twenty minutes later and promised to see her soon. She thanked him, kissed his cheek and left.

Perrie didn't respond to Zayn's calls or texts for weeks afterwards, and Wolhart High School's upcoming production of Little Shop of Horrors made it hard for him to come to her house after school and check on her. The way her newly short hair shifted in the breeze as she walked toward her dark house, it reminded Zayn of the day he first met her that summer at the aquarium.

They didn't see each other again until one month later.