Roses | ziam.

Mona Lisa Smile

First dates are absolutely nasty, yet beautifully delicate things.

It didn't matter how confident you made yourself out to be, it didn't matter how flawlessly you would've arranged the evening because there would always be this niggling disbelief, this irritating uncertainty that someone or something would throw a spanner in the works and mess everything up. And then on top of all of that, you had to worry about whether your date would actually enjoy what you've planned. Would he deem the whole event completely boring and unworthy of his precious time? Would he simply stalk out halfway and leave you sitting there, all horrified and humiliated and scarred for life?

A first date would always consist of trips to the bathroom every five minutes to check whether you've got anything unsavory stuck between your teeth, walking on eggshells by double-checking every single thing that you were about to say to make sure that it was a) politically correct, b) not offensive in any way, and in Zayn's case-

c) nothing that would point towards him being a horny sex maniac.

Yes, that included no mention at all of Liam's legs or lips or skin or that bloody delectable arse that he wasso sure would fit oh-so-perfectly in his hands-

...

Ahem.

Zayn knew that one wrong maneuver, however small, would put a horribly sour note on things, so he was determined to put his best foot forward. Initially he had been surprised to learn that Liam was living in a rather simple apartment which was not too different from Zayn's own home.

The Bradford boy stood on Liam's doorstep, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet. Barbs of anxiety and doubt were zooming and crackling everywhere in his body, all the way down to the very ends of his extremities. His stomach was overflowing with bubbly, hyperventilating butterflies that simply refused to settle. All in all, Zayn felt himself being reduced bit by bit to a jittery glob of jelly with every excruciating second that he had to wait for Liam.

The door finally opened, and every neuron in Liam's body seemed to immediately stand on attention.

Liam was exactly like how Zayn pictured him to be; not a single strand of hair out of place, a carefully honed expression on his face which betrayed no semblance of excitement, curiosity or desire. He was clad immaculately in a black collared shirt and black pants, together with shining black shoes, and of course, that sweet, provocative scent that swamped Zayn's mind and sent his system in a complete tizzy.

All of a sudden, Zayn's knees felt rather weak.

The brunette blinked in astonishment when he opened the door and came face to face with an enormous bouquet of creamy white and raspberry-red roses, held together by a fancy French ribbon. The fragrance of exotic blooms invaded his nostrils, and his eyes widened slightly.

"I didn't realize you were going to have a bunch of flowers for a face tonight, Malik. If I knew, I would have thought twice about the arrangement," Liam drawled, ignoring the tense yet pleasant flutter in the pit of his own stomach. Zayn lowered the flowers fractionally, revealing shy, bespectacled golden eyes underneath his long-lashes.

"I'll just go and put them in the water then," Liam said, taking the flowers and turning. Zayn craned his head out of innate curiosity, his eyes swiveling towards the direction of Liam's flat. However, Liam caught Zayn peeking, and he quickly nudged the door close with his hip.

"You look really nice today," Zayn flashed the other man a crooked grin when Liam emerged. In reply, the brunette bestowed a reserved half-smile on Zayn.

"I assume we're going somewhere... presentable?" Liam asked, gesturing to Zayn's attire in an amused manner. His tie was too long for him and knotted catastrophically, the color of his belt clashed horribly with his outfit, and Zayn's jacket was too tight for those maddeningly, impossibly irresistible shoulders-