The Beautiful Escape [ZARRY]

21

"Goodbye, Mr Styles... and Mr Styles' hubby," the young receptionist gushed breathily as she left them with obvious objection at the swing-doors.

Zayn gave a sigh of relief as the doors swung shut. The rep carpet was about the only thing that had been missing and, given enough time, Zayn had the impression the smitten woman would have produced that too. At least he coup drop the couple act now.

"What are we?" Zayn grumbled, intensely relieved to be out of the place and out of his role. "Visiting royalty? Do you always have this effect on people?"

"What effect?"

Zayn raised a cynical brow. "Like you didn't notice," Zayn hooted. "The woman was deferential, bordering on submissive behaviour."

Despite the enigmatic smile he received in reply, Zayn got the impression Harry was even less pleased than Zayn himself was by the VIP treatment.

The rain had stopped, but it had started to freeze, making the pavement underfoot lethally slippery. Zayn moved cautiously past the men who were gritting the entrance to the hospital, smiling in a distracted way at them as he passed. The gravel was crunchy underfoot as they passed the tall, twinkly Christmas tree, and a layer of sparkling frost added to the festive look in a way that expensive ornaments never could.

Zayn only just stopped himself mentioning how much he loved the smell of pine to the wet blanket beside him. 

"Where are we parked?"

Even though he hadn't forgotten the tall, commanding presence by his side, Zayn was startled when Harry spoke. It made Zayn realise how uptight and wound up the whole play-acting thing in the hospital had made him. His fellow conspirator, on the other hand, had seemed almost to relish his role, or maybe it was Zayn's discomfort he enjoyed...? Considering the glimpses he'd had of Harry's twisted sense of humour, the latter seemed the most likely explanation.

"We...?" Zayn lifted his eyes to Harry's face, but not for long- for some reason he felt oddly reluctant to maintain eye contact.

Like a silly, lust-struck teenager afraid to look the unattainable object of his fantasies in the eyes... Self-disgust curled in his belly. Grow up, Zayn!

By the time Zayn had sternly told himself to stop acting so hard, Harry had paused under the blue-white beam of an overhead light and was making a careful minor adjustment to the jacket draped over his broad shoulders. His head was bent forward at an angle; Zayn couldn't see his face, just the strong curve of his jaw and the sharp angle of his cheekbones, but even these sketchy details were enough to proclaim him as something pretty special to look at indeed.

"Are you going to abandon me...?" Zayn could see the flaw in this plan even before Harry came over all pathetic and helpless. "No wallet, no money or plastic. See for yourself." Harry opened his jacket , inviting Zayn to disprove his claim.

No way- Zayn had been there, done that and felt his hormones riot. He was not conscious of placing his tightly clenched hands firmly behind his back.

"There's no need to act like an endangered species; I believe you," Zayn told him gruffly. The sigh of defeat from Zayn had a long-suffering sound to it. 

"Do I look like a soft touch?" Zayn wondered, wearily running a harrassed hand through his dampish raven hair. 

Curly head on one side, Harry watched him in a considering fashion. To add insult to injury, it took Harry bare moments to come to a decision.

"Actually, yes, you do." Zayn also looked extremely young, still full of youthful goals, a soft target for shady frauds- a student home for the holiday possibly...?

Harry's own innocence and youth seemed a long way off at that moment. It seemed an opportune time, given the direction of his wayward thoughts, to remind himself how far removed Zayn was from the all the other females who temporarily took delight at being his private entertainer- Harry wasn't looking for anything other than temporary.

His forthrightness made Zayn's face darken in annoyance.

"And you're the type to take advantage," he accused rattily.

Taken advantage of by Harry Styles- now, there was a thought... 

Zayn was too busy being angry, flustered and ashamed of his thoughts to notice that a new expression had filtered into Harry's eyes.

Soft... Harry's mind seemed determined to explore this avenue and there was no lack of appropriate material to feed his interest- soft lips, soft skin. The compulsive nature of his speculation had none of the objectivity Harry took for granted in sexual matters.

Don't go there, Harry urged himself, repressing the sudden strong inclination to lean closer to all that masculine softness, smell the musky scent that enveloped around his lean build.

Zayn set off purposefully, reluctant to invite mockery by admitting he'd forgotten where he'd left the car.  He was too damn spooked at the prospect of being enclosed in a small space with him once more to think straight or accept defeat graciously. He heard Harry's soft but firm footsteps shadowing his.

"You said I'd never have to see you again," Zayn reminded him crankily.

"I'm a great believer in telling people what they want to hear if that gets the job done."

"Lying, you mean."

Harry winced. "I wouldn't have put it that way."

Despite the fact that Zayn wasn't making any allowandes for his delicate condition, Harry's long long legs seemed to be having no problem keeping up with the cracking pace Zayn was setting.