Thorn (n.h)

XII

The week leading up to Valentines is uneventful. It's full of guys proposing or asking someone out or all the other bells and whistles that come with St. Valentine's Day.

The worst part, the absolute bottom of my week is that Niall is blatantly avoiding me.

But I have a date with Zayn tonight and I will have fun.

Paige has let me borrow a nice blue dress with glitter that sheds onto my skin but she insists it's fine. The chest is a little small for me and I'm worried of popping out but I keep it to myself. She has my hair loosely curled around my shoulders and a cute bow centered at the back of my head. Paige insists I hear my silver heels but I stuff my white Toms in my bag just incase. She wants to go all out with my makeup and I decline.

"I don't want to be mistaken for a hooker if I stand on a corner too long," I say jokingly but really mean it.

"You don't look like a hooker!" Paige protests as I roll my eyes.

"Called a joke, heard of it?" I tease. She's excited for me, I get it, but I don't need to cake makeup on.

"Can I do my makeup, please," I feel like I'm looking like a typical circus clown with giant rosey cheeks and a pale ass face.

"Fine," Paige huffs when there's a knock. "Its Zayn go to the bathroom!" she hides me with her body and the door while I run to the bathroom.

I've always found comfort in our private dorm bathroom. the window I'll admit is awkward 98% of the time but it's calming. Why, I don't know.

I finish and step out, Paige looks giddy and like she's just won a million dollars.

Zayn however looks like he's on cloud nine.

"Hey," I say softly, embarrassed by all the sudden attention.

"Wow," Zayn says slowly. I smile and grab my purse from the bed. "You look great," he adds and comes over to me.

"Well I'm starving," I don't like how weird this is getting. Zayn smiles and leads me out the room.

We are downtown at a lovely Italian restaurant I've never been to but only heard about.

"Malik," Zayn tells the man at the door. Reservations? Fancy!

We are lead inside to a secluded table. My heels are making God awful loud clicking noises and as soon as we are seated I slip them off. A few old men eye me but I roll my eyes and look at Zayn.

He has on a white shirt, black jeans and a black jacket. His shoes are a nicer version of the kind I saw Harry had on the other night.

Harry.

Zayns hair is slicked into a slope off of his forehead and it looks cute, Niall pulls it off better though.

No, no this is Zayn, stop.

"You been here before?" Zayn asks me as we get a menu.

"No," I answer looking it over. Pretty much everything is in Italian and I have no clue what any of it is.

"Me either," he says and looks at me over the menu, I pretend to not notice.

We order drinks and end up Googling what some of the foods are.

"Why can't they just say spaghetti?" I ask and look the menu over again, hoping dessert is an option.

"I don't know," when the waiter shows Zayn asks, "why not just say spaghetti?"

"I don't write the menu dude, you going to order or criticize all night?" the waiter asks and I try to not laugh. It's really funny how the waiter is giving Zayn a look of 'you little shit'.