Starring Role [ Ziall ]

Chapter 2;

I brushed away my tears and forced myself, to take in a deep breath. I desperately needed to keep my calm now. After all, not even while holding my mom's hand as she took her last breath, had I broken down. Not even, when they let her down into the grave. And when I had to sell our house and thus, hadn't got a roof over my head anymore, just as little. I couldn't let this drag me down now, either.

The money I had wouldn't suffice for a hotel room, but I had my Pick-up. I could sleep in it. The only question was, where I could situate it over night. In itself, the city seemed safe, but wherever I would park, the old ride would catch attention. Before I even fell asleep, the cops would be knocking on my window. My last twenty dollars would have to be sacrificed for fuel. This way, I could drive to a bigger city, where an old car like this wouldn't stand out.

Maybe I could park it behind a restaurant and ask for a job there as well. Then I would save the gas from driving to work. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since this morning. I would have to buy something for a few dollars, and I prayed to God that I would find work the next day.

Everything would be alright.

Before I started the motor, I casted a glance behind me. Silvery glinting eyes flashed at me. I let out a small yell before recognising Zayn. What was he doing out here? Did he come to make sure that I actually cleared out? Because I surely didn't feel like talking to him any longer. I was about to avert my gaze and start driving as quickly as possible, when he raised an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean now? Eh, I could care less. Even though he - admittedly - looked quite sexy doing it. I wanted to start the motor, but instead of the engine noises, I only heard a click. And then... Silence. Oh no. Not now. Please, not now!

I tried again, praying that I was wrong. I knew that the fuel gauge had been broken, but I paid attention to the mileage, especially. There would have to be fuel in the tank. For sure.

I hit the steering wheel with my hand and shout abused the car, but there was no use. I was stuck. Would Zayn call the police? After all, it was obviously important for him that I left. Oh well, that wasn't possible anymore now. Would he get me arrested now? Or worse, would he call the breakdown service? I didn't even have enough money, to get back my Pick-up! At least in jail I would have a bed and food.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, opened the door and hoped for the best.

"Issues?" Zayn asked.

Preferably, I would have screamed all my frustration off. Instead, I managed to nod. "The gas is empty."

Zayn uttered a sigh. I kept quiet and waited for his conviction. I could still plead and beg later.

"How old are you?"

What? Did he really just ask for my age? I was stuck in his driveway and he, quite seriously, wanted to know how old I am. An odd guy.

"Nineteen."

Zayn pushed up both his eyebrows. "Really?"

Just barely, could I bite back the snarky answer that was at the tip of my tongue. He should have pity for me, after all. Therefore, I forced a smile. "Yes. Really."

Grinning, Zayn shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. You look much younger." His glance wandered over my body. How embarrassing - I even blushed now. "Hold up, I take that back. Every part of your body is definitely nineteen. Just your face, it looks so alive and young. Did you dye your hair?"

Was that a question? What was the point of that? I didn't feel like holding forth about how hair dye was a luxury that I couldn't afford anymore. I wanted to know which side one's bread is buttered on. Besides that, Cody, my ex-boyfriend and now best friend, had always told me that I was a natural beauty. Whatever the hell that had meant.