Smoke & Mirrors • Zarry

4. Thank me later

Zayn pulled up alongside the curb in front of a large brick building called Dunn Hall, watching as drunken teens walked across the lawn with bottles full of cheap vodka, his fully tattooed arm dangling out the window holding the butt of his cigarette between his fingers and he watched as a couple of young girls in crop tops and short shorts stared at him, smiling and waving flirtatiously as if they thought he would wave back or show some sort of interest in them; he didn't.

Zayn was 26 and at least five or more years older than most of these students and the only reason he even gave any of them the time of day was because they bought party drugs from him with their trust fund money and that was it.

Harry then came slinking across the lawn shortly after in a pair of red corduroy flares, a faded, white Kiss t-shirt that read HOT N HARD on the back, his long hair pulled into a man bun and he waved to someone across the way, blowing them a kiss before he danced up to Zayn's black Range Rover and opened the door, climbing in; he smelt like vanilla.

"Nice to see you again," Harry greeted Zayn, putting on his seatbelt.

"You better buy these fucking mushrooms," Zayn replied flatly, putting the car into drive and speeding off into the night. "I don't normally do runs like this at the last minute."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"You're a reliable customer," Zayn answered.

"But you owe me."

"Oh yeah? And what exactly do I owe you?" Harry questioned, hiding a subtle smirk.

"You seem smart enough; I'm sure you can think of something," said Zayn, allowing Harry to take that however he wanted, and he turned the corner sharply, stopping at a sudden red light and he watched from his peripherals as Harry just chuckled and leaned forward, turning on the radio to the start of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.

"Mama...just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead."

Harry began singing out loud, making his fingers into the shape of a gun and pretending to shoot himself square in the temple, falling back against the seat as if he had just died and Zayn snorted under his breath, shaking his head slightly at him.

"Dramatic much?" Zayn muttered.

"Mama...life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away..."

Harry continued singing loudly, ignoring Zayn's comment.

"Must you sing?" Zayn asked, staring blankly at Harry who kept on disregarding Zayn's requests completely.

"Mama!!!!! Oooooh, didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow....carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters..."

"Please don't sing this whole song," Zayn urged as the light turned green and then Harry turned the volume down, glancing over at Zayn with this smug look on his face.

"What, you don't like Queen?"

"No I do. That's not the point," Zayn responded. "It's just that we don't need any unnecessary attention drawn to this car right now because I'm picking up drugs and I'm not trying to go to fucking jail and guess what? You'll be there too you idiot."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Harry replied. "I forgot what we were even doing for a second."

"How the fuck could you forget? Isn't that the whole reason why you even called me in the first place?" Zayn questioned, raising a brow skeptically at him.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll be a good boy now," he replied, turning to face Zayn and smiling softly.

And Zayn had to do his best to pretend like Harry referring to himself as a good boy didn't make his cock pulse for a brief second in his pants.