.03
FIVE MONTHS LATER
He's staring at me. Dark eyes peering across the room, moving with my body's actions. Danny is the one who tells me, leaning in to whisper in my ear. Her breath tickles and a shiver runs down my spine at her words.
I see him immediately - just a quick glance to my left and my eyes fell upon him. From a distance I could only make out his leather jacket, ripped jeans, and facial hair. Not like a Duck Dynasty commercial type of beard - but a settle, brown fuzz.
"Go over there," Danny urges, giving me a devious smile. Her eyes are droopy and huge - she's high, and by the smell of her breath, drunk too.
"Okay." I reply easily, not caring about her stupid antics. Knowing Danny, she probably hired the guy to stare.
Anyway, by the time I made my way over to him, he was still staring, tracing over my planes with those brown eyes. I was close enough to feel unease - he was sexy in a bad boy type of way, his cheekbones making him look like a model. Brown fuzz covered the bottom half of his face, his hair a controlled quiff.
"Hey," I yelled over the music.
A small smirk played on his lips as he looked me up and down. I should feel insecure. I didn't. "Hey."
"Do you like my friend?" I ask, sly. I knew he wasn't staring at Danny. I was playing with him.
He didn't blush, or in anyway look embarrassed. Just kept that half smirk on his face. "Wanna go outside?" He asked.
Time for me to be surprised. I take it in stride and smirk back at him, trying to imitate his. "Sure."
I follow Eyes out of the club. I trace the seams of his jacket as we descend further into the crowd, nearing a red EXIT sign. Its a side exit, one I hadn't known about. We enter a dimly lit alleyway, and Eyes leans against the brick wall of the club.
"I'm Chandler," I say, standing next to him. He pulls a blue pack out of his pocket, then a lighter. I watch as he puts a white cigarette between his lips, sparking a fire from the lighter with a flick of his thumb, bringing it to the end of his cigarette. He does it all masterfully - like he's done this a million times.
"Zayn." He replies after taking a drag, faint smoke pouring out of his mouth.
I'm not good at conversation. Despite myself, I watch as he takes another drag. His lips are a pale pink, perfectly sculpted, like the rest of his face. The silence is comfortable somehow, as if we didn't just meet, as if we've known each other for awhile. Another part of it is intimidating. Being next to him. I have no idea what he's thinking. What he thinks of me. If I'm like a groupie - following him around. Except he was staring at me.
After he discards the butt of his cigarette, stomping it out on the ground, he turns to me. A faint smirk crosses his face as he leans against the brick building. "How old are you?"
"I - what?" I knit my eyebrows together.
Zayn raises his eyebrows in response.
I cross my arms. "How old are you?"
He chuckles, a low and husky sound. "I asked first, love."
"Nineteen." I replied.
"Twenty-one." He responds easily.
Silence. Again.
"Do you want to come back to my flat?" He asks. It's just now that I recognize his accent. English, maybe? Australian?
"Sure." I reply. I was aware at what happened next. Going to an older boy's apartment. Being completely alone. Although these clues should either scare me or turn me off, I felt exhilarated. Vaguely excited.
