Through New Eyes (Zayn Malik)

Chapter Twenty

A/N: Sooo… If I were you, I’d go read this in a dark closet or something; otherwise your family/ friends/ whoever’s near you are going to stare at you funny when they hear you yell at your screen, something along the lines of “NO, ZAYN, NO!!!!” or “AWWW, ZAYNIE!”

Fair warning :)

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Zayn’s POV

 

I’ve got to ignore her.

That’s what I’ll do. I know I can’t be the kind of guy she wants me to be, so I have to pretend that the kiss meant nothing to me.

But ignoring her will hurt her.

It’s better for her in the long run.

I think.

Right?

It’ll be awkward to see her when I’m working with Uncle Zach.

I could always get her to hate me.

But she’s a sweetheart.

Man, fuck this shit. I shouldn’t be so focused on this. So I kissed her. Big deal? She knows what kind of guy I am; she’ll think it was a spur of the moment thing. And it was. It had to be. Because there is no way that kiss could mean more to me.

Right?

And yet I’m still thinking about this shit.

Why the fuck am I still arguing with myself over this?

“You alright, Z?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, I guess.” I say. We all decided to walk to school today. Not sure why, honestly. Lou came over and suggested it.  Now my mind is all over the place, thinking of Val. So much, that I didn’t realize that we made it to campus and are standing in front of Niall’s locker.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” I lie.

“Bro. Quit lying. You’ve been preoccupied all morning.” Niall says.

“No, I’m fine.” I say.

“No you’re not.” Lou says.

“Leave him alone, lads.” Harry says, causing all three of them to look at him. “What?”

“Harry, what do you know that we don’t?” Liam asks suspiciously.

“Nothing.” he replies.

Did I mention Harry is a terrible liar?

“Harry Edward Styles. What the hell are you trying to hide?” Niall asks.

Harry glances at me quickly. But obviously not quickly enough, since the other boys turn to look at me. I lean against Niall’s locker and cross my arms. We stand there, staring at each other silently, until some chick comes in and slaps me across the face.

“Asshole.” she mutters, trying to walk off. I grab her wrist and pull her to me. “Let go.” she says, sounding annoyed.

“Not until you tell me what the hell your problem is.” I say. I mean, come on. I’ve had my fair share of slaps; but I usually know what I did to deserve them. But I haven’t banged this bitch. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before in my life.

“My problem? I don’t have one.” she says, trying to snatch her arm away from my hand. I merely tighten my grip, and she stops trying to pull, instead she looks up and glares at me.