Playboy » L.S

Chapter 13

Harry's pov.

"But Zayn, you don't understand," I groan, throwing my head back in frustration as I fix the bow tie around my neck.

"Then explain it to me, damnit," He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest from where he was leaned against the wall beside my mirror.

"Well, I found Louis after you were being a complete dick," He puts his hands up in defense when I glare at him. "And then I punched a guy for grabbing his ass and somehow that lead to making out with him on the hood of my car."

"Wait, you made out with the guy you punched?" Zayn's eyes are nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"No! F.uck, do you ever listen?" I roll my eyes and straighten my bow tie. "No, I made out with Louis. But then Gem called and was worried because I wasn't home. So I offered to take Louis home after I had found him and when I hung up the phone with Gem, he wouldn't kiss me."

"He rejected you?" Zayn tried to clarify, his mouth hanging open.

"Yeah! He f.ucking rejected me!" I scowl at my reflection in the mirror. "And then when I was in front of his apartment, I found myself hoping that he would kiss me goodbye, but he just.. got out. He got out of the car and left me hanging."

It's quiet for a minute, Zayn just simply staring at me with wide eyes. I begin to think he's frozen or something, like his circuits are all blown to bits, so I resume ruffling my hair in the mirror.

"Holy shit!" He suddenly shouts, causing me to jump. "Holy shit! Holy f.ucking shit!"

"What!?" He gets my attention by placing his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him.

"Louis f.ucking rejected you! He rejected you! Harry Styles, the best Playboy in all of the East coast, was rejected by some random gay kid! You were rejected!"

"You know, if you were going to be a dick about it, I would have never told you," I huff and slap his hands off of my shoulders.

"Oh my god," He gasps. "You! You have it so bad already!"

Now this has my attention. "Excuse me?"

"You like this guy. Like, actually like him. If you didn't, you wouldn't care so much, and you certainly wouldn't be moping around about it."

"What's your point, Zayn?"

"You, my friend - aka Harry Styles, aka most wanted Playboy - have a crush."

I stare at him for a second and then bring my hand up, slapping him upside the head.

"Ow! What the hell, Haz!?" He scowls and rubs at the spot I had just hit.

"You're f.ucking delusional if you think I, out of all people, have a silly crush."

"You do," He sing-songs, his lips curling up in a smirk. "You have a crush! You have a crush!"

"What are we, in the fourth grade?" I roll my eyes and turn back to the mirror.

"Yes, since you have a crush and don't have the balls to admit it," He shrugs and I glare at him out of the corner of my eye.

"I don't have a crush," I grumble childishly, which only proves Zayn's point even more, but I'm too much of a prideful asshole to admit to shit.

"Prove it then," He says simply. "Prove that you don't actually like this kid."

"And how do you want me to do that?"

"Spend time with him, like outside the club. If you still claim to not like him after two weeks or so, then I'll drop it," He grins. "But, if you do like him, then I'm basically helping you get a boyfriend for once."