Gasoline.

6

It was Saturday, and I was running around everywhere, frantically like a chicken with it's head cut off. I was experiencing all the anxious feelings I felt on prom night all over again. I just wanted to feel perfect, and look perfect.

"We're headed out. Is Zayn meeting you there or is he picking you up?" My mother spoke to me as she dug through her clutch to make sure her essentials were inside. "He's picking me up. He's on his way now."

"I can't wait to meet this boy," my mom smiled. My dad rubbed his fist into the palm of his hand. "He's gonna wish he never met me." I rolled my eyes at my father. My mom slapped him in his chest. "Why can't you just be happy for her? I'm sure he's a great guy. Lauren knows how to pick them."
"Then explain Evan." My mom didn't say anything, and neither did I.

Evan was a great guy when we were dating. He and my father got along, but once you break someones heart, obviously your parent is going to suddenly view them as a waste of space.

"He dated Lauren for what two years? Then he goes and does that shit?" I held my hand up to silence my father. "I'm not dating Zayn you guys."
"But you're interested in him. We still would like to meet h-" A knock on the door silenced my mother.

My dad walked around her, unlocked it and pulled it open. Zayn was standing there in an all black, tuxedo. His hair was slicked back with a single loose strand hanging there. I forgot how to breathe for a second.

Zayn looked surprised to see my father and mother, but he showed no signs of nerves. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Jauregui. I'm Zayn. I'm going to be accompanying your daughter to the charity ball tonight." He held his hand out. I was surprised at how collected he was. "An english accent? How charming." My mother shook his hand first.

My father went second, but instead of shaking his hand, my father grabbed it and pulled it close to his face to examine. "How many tattoos ya got? You only got some on your hand?" Zayn shook his head. "I have a lot, sir. Just a lot."
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'm twenty-two."
"Two years older than my daughter. You a bad kid?" I ran my hand down my face. Zayn shook his head. "I don't think I am." I walked over to save the day, although Zayn was handling things well.

"Okay, that's enough," I said. My mother nodded in agreement. "Let's head out, Mike. The ball started half an hour ago, and it's going to take us that long to get there." My mom grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door, but not before he made a stop to whisper something in Zayn's ear. "Noted," Zayn said.

"What did he say to you?" I asked.
"He told me he'll kill me if I hurt you." I groaned and rolled my eyes. "I'm so sorry about him."
"Hey, don't worry about it. It's not my first rodeo."

I grabbed my clutch, and shoved my phone inside. "And I just wanted to say holy fucking shit, you look breath taking." I could feel myself blushing. "You clean up pretty well yourself." Zayn had his arm folded. "Ready for the ball?" I looped my arm in his. "I surely am."

We got to the hall that the charity ball was being held in. I felt like I was at a fancy celebrity party. Everyone had to line up, and were being checked at the door for proof of invite.

"That was intense," Zayn said to me when we walked inside. The set up consisted of circular tables dressed in maroon satin cloths. There were maroon and white balloons everywhere. I was still not a hundred percent certain as to what the charity was, and the cause. People were at the food table, and there were people in the photo booth. The most subtle hint of classical music was tip toeing through the speakers.

"I've never been to one of these things. What do we do?" Zayn asked. He was completely clueless, as was I. I glanced around. "I guess we mingle and eat until Ms. Myer comes up to give a speech that inspires people to donate more than they're already gonna." Zayn laughed at that and shook his head.