Fingertips Trace His Spine

t h r e e

"No way! You're getting a personal tutor!" Zayn clamps a hand around Louis mouth and pulls him back, "Nobody can know I'm working with another student."

"Why are you so embarrassed? It's not Harry Styles is it?" Louis scoffs, scarfing down his ham sandwich that Trisha originally made for Zayn but he wanted Louis' lunch instead.

"Who's that? And what's so bad about him?" Zayn asks while he glances up looking around the campus to maybe see if Louis just might point at this particular person.

Louis wipes his lips and chucks the napkin into the trash from behind Zayn, "His hair is all greasy and he has these huge glasses that look like telescopes."

"Think I see who you're talking about." Zayn's eyes catch a boy with a book in his hand laying on the grass, his legs propped up as the book is on his lap, his head on his backpack.

"For every good insult about him, I'll give you a dollar." Louis isn't usually so crude, but he insists that when it comes to Harry he can't help but pick on him because his appearance already influences it.

Zayn doesn't understand though. Doesn't get how someone could be so mean. Though he finds himself already teasing, "He looks like an accountant. The way he's dressed. It's fucking hideous. I'd rather see him with clothes on instead of without so I guess we're okay here."

"An accountant, good one! He should work for strippers. Or maybe he could be one. If he's good with dollar bills!" Louis slaps his leg, it wasn't that funny but Zayn adds anyways, "Right cause he's an accountant!"

There's nothing funny about their conversations or the awful insults and teasing. But for some reason, Zayn likes it. He finds himself hunching over with a hand on his stomach as he laughs with Louis. It's not usual for Zayn to verbally harass someone, but Louis' has got him laughing at Harry.

Now he can't wait to actually meet the guy.

Thoughts fulfill his mind.

Zayn can't wait to act reckless and impulsive during their study session. Either Zayn can come off absolutely illiterate, giving Harry migraines, or he'll be a seductive little arse that'll make Harry tense and nervous. Zayn wants to make his tutor so fed up or sexually frustrated that he'll want to quit, not Zayn leaving first.

This way, his mom can't blame Zayn for not liking the tutor, he'll just tell his mom the tutor thought he was too difficult to deal with.

This time around, Zayn does attend all of his classes, with the moral support of Louis. And also because the teachers warned him that if he doesn't attend, they'll be addressing the problems to his mother and coach.

Here's a few things Zayn notices.

Math isn't so bad, he attempts to take notes but realizes it's all sloppy and gives up, but for the first ten minutes, he did try.

He gives himself enough credit for attempting.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel happier that he's done something somewhat productive, he goes to literature class and theater, just to realize Harry is in both of them.

The thought of Harry being in two classes makes him less stressed because at least when they work together, they'll be on the same page for literature, and maybe Harry can help him read the script that Zayn's clearly never read whatsoever since the beginning of the school year.

But the school bell rings and Zayn fetches his skateboard and decides he wants to see Harry sooner than what he planned yesterday.

Two minutes ticking, Zayn finally gains the courage to knock on his personal tutor's house door. It's not like he's shy, he simply doesn't care too much for these lessons.

It's not like he wants to be here, and he thinks he doesn't have to. But his mother knows best. She was certain that she could have a discussion with the principal to receive information about the best learning services for or her son.

And now it's time to test it.

A squeak from the front door makes Zayn avert his eyes from the welcome mat to suddenly, smooth pale flesh.

The way the person's poise is firm, a solid chest like concrete, though the slight touch of pudginess around his hips, it makes him seem even cuter than hot.

And that's what Zayn likes.

The lurking eyes reach to contact with the person in front of him instead of raking down the sight of his body. Then he sees it, something a little better than just this stranger's appearance, but more in depth. This unique green that almost shines something else too.

"Are you Zayn?" Zayn watches the way his plump lips move, he barely processes the question that has been asserted.

But once he does grasp a hold of what the attractive boy said previously, his train of thought steers another route.

"Wait. You're Harry Styles? I thought he was that kid with the hair combed back and doesn't he wear glasses?" Zayn furrows his eye brows in confusion. He quickly raises his hand up, "Quick! How many fingers am I holding up?"

Zayn raises his hand with four fingers up, distancing it away from Harry causing the boy to cross his arms, "As much that can fit up my arse."

The boy standing on the doormat tenses not expecting that whatsoever.

"Now get in here." Harry opens the door wider and allows Zayn in before closing the door.

Zayn leans his skateboard on a wall near the door, "Is it fine that I put it here?" Harry mumbles something Zayn can't catch but he assumes it's alright since Harry doesn't turn back to direct it else where.

When Zayn walks further into Harry's home, he doesn't see the fit boy insight.

When he sits on the couch, his eyes squander around the room, he's somewhat more nervous than earlier, more nervous than when he and Louis joked about Harry.

Then he hears pattering noise bouncing off the stairs. Adrenaline shoots through his veins as he's facing the green eyes beauty once again.

Why'd he ever make fun of him?

─

it's midnight now !
March 1st yay !
been working
on dis book
for like
two hours !
i love it !

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030917