Americano

(1) ZAYN

ZAYN's POV.

You call this a party? No booze, no weed, and no stripping. I would've been better off home doing nothing.

"Ey yo Kevin, what kinda party you be throwing these days? I remember when ya used to have all them shawties on yo dick. Dafuq happened bro?"

"Eh, you know, trying to keep my grades up and shit. Too much booze ain't good for ya soul, get me?"

"Ah I get you bro. I get you." Nope. I didn't get this nigga.

Grades? School? When did that shit ever even matter? That's mad funny. In my world, only three things exist.

Booze.

Pot.

Sleep.

I just decided to go home. I didn't want to waste all my precious time at that party. Besides, I was mad hungry. I needed me a sandwich. Time to call up one of my bitches to make me one.

As soon as I got home, I made myself some easy mac and went straight to bed.

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I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock. My ears rung so freaking bad.

Ten. more. minutes.

"Zayn wake up I'm gonna be late for work which means you gotta take the bus!"

"Ugh... Mom! Ten more minutes!" I screamed.

I finally got out of bed and got dressed. Stupid highschool. What kind of public high school had uniforms anyways?

Ruinin my swag and shit...

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