The Beautiful Escape [ZARRY]

22

"I'm not exactly thrilled to find myself obliged to beg a lift either," Harry rasped huskily.

Of all the ungrateful rats! Zayn came to an abrupt halt and turned his wrathful gaze upon the tall figure who had almost collided with him.

"That makes two of us!" he retorted sharply.

Their eyes met.

It was at that moment Zayn felt it- it was a tense excitement so thick the air quivered with it, so think his limbs were all but immobilised by it. 

It didn't seem to be a one-sided situation. Harry's burning eyes kept moving back to Zayn's parted lips as though they were being dragged against his will. Zayn felt as if he was being drawn in by that raw expression in his hungry eyes. The tightness in his chest finally found release in a fractured sigh.

The compulsion to reach and press his lips to Harry's was so strong his head spun. Would they be cold, warm... firm...? Wondering sent delicious little waves skating along his lower abdomen.

Zayn wouldn't do it, of course, because he wasn't the sort of person who gave in to lustful base instincts... all the same, thinking about it- and he discovered his embarrassingly lurid imagination had a mind of its own- made his body temperature soar despite the sub-zero temperature around them. His dry-throated excitement mounted with dizzying rapidity as his knees began to literally shake.

Seconds probably carried on ticking relentlessly away in the few moments after speculative green eyes had met startled golden- but Zayn was unaware of the passing time as they stood stock- still in silence only by the distant wail of an ambulance.

No good will come out of this, a sensible voice, to which Zayn paid no heed forecast in his head.

Harry felt his breath perceptibly quicken. Zayn's mouth was just sensationally lush. The uneven sound of Zayn's breath catching in the back of his throat was driving Harry slightly crazy. He watched as Zayn's clenched fingers loosened and he began to reach out... Harry thought about them touching his face... his hair... his-

With a mumbled expletive he took a step backwards. "Zayn...!"

It was a verbal warning, the sort an adult gave a reckless child about to indulge in dangerous exploration.

Mortified, Zayn let his extended hand fall away, and he stood there feeling stupid and confused by what had just occurred- whatever it was... Harry had wanted to kiss him too- hadn't he...? It hadn't been a figment of his heated imagination, had it?

The uncertainty only lasted a split-second; he hadn't imagined anything- it had been real. Zayn thrust his chin forward defiantly. As unlikely as it seemed, Harry Styles had wanted to kiss him just as much as he'd wanted to kiss Harry. Zayn raised his stubborn eyes slowly to his stony face and his heart sank- 

Harry had gone off the idea; Zayn was damned if he was going to let Harry make him feel ashamed. 

"Zayn what?" he sniffed angrily. "Zayn, don't kiss me...?" he suggested shrilly.

He watched Harry's eyes widen as he gave an appalled gasp- I can't believe I said that!

"Were you going to?"

I asked for that, didn't I?  What was Zayn supposed to say...? Given a little bit of encouragement, probably...?