If Time Stands Still

43- nice hair

he's the prettiest 🥺

~

Luke's POV

"C'mon, Sammy." I hold the car door open for my lazy ass dog who just won't cooperate whenever we're in public, "You're not gonna embarrass me today." I tap my thigh, but he merely eyes me. Even tugging gently on his leash evokes nothing but a whimper, so I stop.

It's the hard way then, I guess. I roll up my sleeves and lean into the car to grab my seventy pound dog, carrying him to the entrance of the clinic until I've got his leash in my hand.

"Behave." I push the door open. It's only 7:30, but there's already about ten other owners here with their pets.

The first person I spot in the front is Sierra wearing dark blue scrubs and actually looking good in them. I'd recognize that pixie cut anywhere. She hands someone a clipboard, then walks to the cabinet again, looking for a file.

"Hey, Sierra." I greet.

Her movements come to an abrupt halt before she turns her head my way. She eyes me for a few long seconds, probably unsure of who the hell I am since she was hammered the night we met. Also, we barely spoke since I was being an idiot.

"Luke." I reintroduce myself, "Aylin's friend. From Zayn's party."

"Right!" She grins, then walks over to me, looking down at Sammy, "And who's this?"

"Sammy." I smile, "He's just coming in for a check-up."

"You haven't been here before, have you?"

"No, but this is all of his info." I hand over Sammy's details to her and she smiles.

"Well, that's convenient." She slides me a clipboard, "You'll still have to weight him and fill this out though, since it is your first time here."

"No problem." I grab the pen, "I like your hair, by the way."

"Yeah?" She runs a hand through her hair, smiling.

"Yeah, it's nice. Not everyone can pull it off."

"Why didn't you tell me this last time?" She smirks.

"I can be an idiot."

She chuckles, "Well, thanks Luke."

She's adorable, but in a bad-ass kind of way. Maybe I'm basing that solely off the fact that she can pull off a pixie cut, but when am I ever wrong?

While updating some details, I see the door swing open in my peripheral and Zayn enters with a Givenchy hat covering most of his face. I'd recognize that jaw.

Here I am, in my pajama pants and slippers, with a hoodie I threw over this morning- while Zayn is coming to work in style. Nice shoes, well fitted jeans, crease-less white T-shirt and a denim jacket over. As he approaches, I lift my hand to wave.

"Morning, Sierra." He greets without looking up and passes us, leaving the soft and elegant scent of Burberry Brit in his trail. I would know. I'm always using those free samples.

"Morning, cranky." She greets back, not looking up either.

"Is he okay?" I question.

"He's not a morning person." She looks at me briefly before sitting down in front of her computer.

"But is he good?"

She frowns, "I think so, why?"

I shrug, "I don't know..." Please don't ask me more questions. I wonder if Zayn said anything to her.