Country Tied || 1D au

Chapter 4

~Chapter 4~

I'd like to tell you that I finally found an internship and was happily mixing batter or practicing my pathetic plating skills, but there I was a few days later, sitting in Camille 's house as her assistant. As if she needed one because she was just an intern who assisted the assistant. But I had nothing better to do as I waited for HR departments to get back to me after I'd sent out my resume. So when Camille said she was going to hold a shoot in her house, I offered to help. It was better that sitting around at home losing my mind while reading about everyone else's fun, fabulous, and totally newsworthy internships on Facebook, Twitter, their blogs, even Tumblr---there was just no escape.

While Camille and the models, photographers, and editorial team---I swear, there are so many of them, I couldn't remember all their names---were busy shooting in the garden, I ordered our lunch.

At first, I did the menial things like putting masking tape on the soles of shoes before the models put them on so they wouldn't get dirty, steaming the wrinkles out of the clothes then hanging them up side by side on a portable rack, and laying out accessories so they wouldn't be all tangled up in each other. But once all that was done and the shoot had started, I had nothing else to do till it was time to pack everything up again.

I made my way to the kitchen to check on the ovens just in case I had to heat up the food once it arrived. You can never really tell if your pizza would arrive hot or not. And I don't know about you, but based on how skinny they were, the models out there looked pretty hungry to me. The least I could do was make sure their lunch tasted good.

Camille's house was one of my favourite places in the world. Her dad owned a chain of electronics stores, so they had the best appliances and gadgets within reach. You can imagine what their kitchen looked like. They owned all the crazy TV-shopping gadgets that never worked but had their own special drawer anyway, state-of-the-art ovens, refrigerators, freezers, and of course, all the little cooking tools you didn't even think you needed till you held one in your hand. You'd think this would have inspired my BFF to spend more time in her kitchen.

As I was about to start clearing an area for the pizzas, my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize. "Who is this?" I was ready to turn away any telemarketer.

"Lauren, its Zayn!"

Damn my heart for doing a little forward roll. Where did he get my number?

"Why are you calling me?" I know, I know. I should really be friendlier. Then maybe guys would actually start asking me out. But when I get nervous, I'm like a mama dog that's just squeezed out a litter of pups. All I can think of is defending my small, vulnerable spirit.

"Hey, I thought we were friends after we hung out in the library." His voice sounded all smooth and warm. Because of his effect on me, I couldn't help feeling even more protective of myself.

"Zayn, I'm in the middle of something. Just spit it out." Yeah, be tough as nails, Lauren. I'm sure his little high school chickadee is all honey and sweetness whenever he calls her up. Great way to compete.

A low chuckle sounded in my ear. "Fine, fine. I'm throwing a party for Harry this Saturday and I was wondering if you and Camille wanted to come. It's going to be at my house."

Hands down, I knew I definitely wanted to be wherever Zayn was, but he was talking about a roomful of Camille's party friends. Then again, it was easier to blend in at a party, right?

"We'll be there," I heard myself blurt out. "Just text me your address."

"Awesome! See you on Saturday, Lor." I could hear the grin in his voice. "You'll finally get to meet my hot high school girlfriend. Bye!"

"Oh please." But before I could get the words out, he ended the call.

Okay, I had to admit, I'd had this weird thing for Zayn ever since he hopped into my car and started extolling the physical attributes of the child he claimed to be his girlfriend. I didn't know what did it for me, whether it was how he didn't seem to care what I thought or how he kept goading me into a reaction. Whatever it was, I knew I was gone the minute I spotted him in the library with his brow furrowed, squatting on the floor, his finger running across the titles of the musty old books lining the dusty wooden shelves.

Telling myself that I had nothing to do anyway and was just helping someone who had helped me (conveniently forgetting about the lift that had already called quits between us), I walked up to him, cleared my throat, and said,

"Maybe if you checked the computer, you'd have a better idea where to look."

Without turning around, he muttered, "You think I didn't already do that? The book doesn't seem to be here."

A bit surprised that he wasn't even turning around or asking what I was doing here, I put my hands on my hips and demanded, "So you aren't going to appreciate any help I might have to offer?"

He finally turned his face up at me, and then slowly looked me up and down, taking in my sorry attempt at a professional look for department secretary Miss Jeshara. I self-consciously glanced down at my "business attire" and hissed, "What?"

Zayn suppressed a laugh and said, "You can pass for the librarian, you know. With the ponytail glasses, and the polo and slacks bit."

I rolled my eyes and tugged at the elastic that held my hair. "Yeah, not my best look. I was trying something out."

"It's a good thing I know how you normally look or you might still have that violation sticker on your windshield." He was now sitting on the floor and facing me, the naughty grin back on his face.

I did my best to ignore his comment even if it was burning in my ears, yanked off the fake glasses that I forgot were perched up my nose, sat beside him. Because I couldn't bring myself to look at him, I started scanning the titles. "These are all fiction. What class are you taking anyway?"

Zayn shrugged. "I'm taking a class on the classics. You should enrol. You'll fit right in, especially with those specs."

He reached over and took my glasses from my hands. When his fingers brushed against the back of my hand, my breath caught. What the hell was going on? I had never noticed Zayn before. Sure he was cute in that careless sort of way, and he was, at best, scruffy mad rugged if you want for that kind of thing, which I never did. He was never crush material. At least not till now.

He slipped them on and gave me another goofy grin. I shook my head, partly to respond to him and partly to wake myself from the spell he seemed to be casting over me, and got up.

"Let's go buy your novel. I'm sure there'll be one in the bookstore across the street. Enough wasting time in here. I'll drive."

I didn't know what came over me, but all of a sudden, my mind started scrambling for ways to keep him around. High school girlfriend or not, I was going to hang on to this strange, yet---it made me cringe to even think of it---delicious feeling for as long as I could.

"The pizza's here!" Camille rushed in, breathless and excited. I was still stupidly holding my phone, staring into space. "Lor, what's up?" Camille put her hand on my arm, her bright eyes searching my face.

I wasn't ready to tell her what was going on in what I was beginning to think of as my cursed heart (because really, Zayn!!! of all people).

Plus, I knew I was going to get a lengthy lecture about staying away from guys with girlfriends---yes, yes, even if those girlfriends made them seem like dirty old men.

"Zayn just called. He's inviting us to a party he's throwing for Harry this Saturday."

"Awesome!" Then she gave me a doubtful look. "You did say yes right?" Ah, she knew me too well. But that was before I was bitten by the Zayn bug.

"Of course I did. I knew you needed your social fix." I stick my tongue out at her and she gave me a face. She really sucked at that but I gave her points for trying. "Now let's get those pizzas ready for your starving models."

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