Complementary

five

apartment - young the giant

zayn

I lean over the railing of my balcony, where I was just stood with Carlie a week ago. And now I am here with Harry, chain smoking cigarettes and thinking too much, all while complaining to him about a girl I have spent a total of 5 hours in the presence of.

"God, Zayn, you are such a pushover," he smiles almost shamefully, shaking his head at my distressed state. "It's clear she just used you for a favor. All she wanted was photographs for her piece. If she hasn't texted you or called you since, then I'd forget about her, mate."

"You don't get it," I groan and rake my fingers through my hair. "It's like she's gone missing, or something. I've been to Lou's twice just to try and see her - don't tell him that - but she was no where to be seen both times."

"Did you ever try asking Louis where she has been?"

I stare blankly at my mop-headed friend. "I mean...I thought about it. It's just - it's weird, Harry. Louis is her stepbrother and I don't want him to think I've got some crazy obsession with his new family member or something."

"But you do." He deadpans, smirking.

"Fuck off," I laugh, staring at the city streets that are only stories down from me. "I am not obsessed with her. There's just something about her, I don't know."

I hear him sigh, and I can envision him rolling his eyes at me in my mind. He seems to do that quite a lot, not that I blame him. But he's a good best friend, always around when I need him and still around when I don't want him anywhere near me.

I met Harry at a bar in my freshman year of college. He was with his boyfriend, Niall, then, and I had been so drunk I nearly vomited all over the tops of my shoes. He had been kind enough to help me home after a night of pathetically drinking all on my own. After that, we kind of just stayed in contact. He's one of those people that makes an impression on you, impacted in your memory forever, even if I barely remember the first time we met.

"I think you're a masochist, or something, Zayn." Harry finally speaks.

I spin around to face him, my eyebrows drawing together. "You're talking some shit now, I'm not into anything like that."

"I don't mean sexually," Harry laughs heartily. "I mean, I think you secretly like it when women treat you harshly. This girl sounds like a bit of a...bitch."

"Did I just hear the feminist, ever-respectful Harry Styles call a girl - whom he's never met - a bitch?" I tease.

"You know I don't mean it harshly, Zayn. I'm just trying to offer you my opinion."

I nod, returning back to my serious state. "You would understand if you were me, Harry."

"I can't say that I can ever picture being you. I mean, imagine me with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, surrounded by ladies who are practically hypnotized by my rugged sophistication."

"Okay, okay, enough." I laugh, bowing my head bashfully.

"But in all honesty, Zayn," he sighs. "Don't spend too much time thinking about this Carlie girl. It doesn't seem as if things are looking too up, and you have only really ever hung out with her once."

I tune out his cautionary tone, not in the mood to receive his advice. I'm only in the mood to complain about my situtation and do nothing to change it.

Maybe I am a bit of a masochist, in that sense.

I shrug, waving Harry off as he tells me he is leaving me alone to wallow in self-pity to go out to dinner with Niall. At least someone has a date tonight. I'll just be home, smoking out my apartment and thinking about a girl whom I barely know.