Awkward Beat [H.S]

Chapter 30

In which it finally happens

Chapter 30

I didn't tell Harry about my date with Zayn. Not because I was withholding information from him - after all the lies and schemes, I figured he deserved to know no matter how much it hurt us both. No, the reason for my silence was that I'd had no opportunity. He was out of the flat when I woke up in the morning and I had an afternoon class. I met him very briefly at the lift on our floor in the late afternoon – I was coming up, he was going down. Dressed sharply in a suit and tie, he muttered something about pitching a business model before we exchanged places and the doors to the lift closed on him.

That was it. Unless I sent him a text message or left a note on his bed, both of which I thought to be grossly impersonal at this stage, there were no opportunities left. I'd be on my date by the time he returned.

For something I'd anticipated for nearly four years, it all seemed to come together rather quickly.

Not normally so self-concerned, I agonized and agonized over my appearance. I wished I still had Macy so that I could borrow some clothes from her roommates. No – scratch that. I wished I had Macy so that I had someone to talk to.

It was supposed to be the most exciting night of my life to date, and the two people I could have shared it with were gone.

But I tried, hard as I could, to forget about it and focus only on Zayn.

Zayn.

Zayn.

By the time he buzzed me down from my flat, my nerves were so wiry and tangled that I was surprised I made it out the door.

When I stepped off the lift, Zayn's hands were in the pockets of his black jeans as he leaned against the reception desk. He wore his signature leather jacket with a button-up red plaid shirt underneath, causing my stomach to flip. Its organs performed several more gymnastics maneuvers as his eyes scanned me up and down in appreciation.

"I'm glad you said yes to me," he said as I approached.

A wide grin spread across my face. "I'm glad you asked."

He shrugged, donning a smile of his own. "Took me long enough, I guess." He pushed himself off of the desk and led the way to the front door, holding it open for me. As he stepped out behind, he added, "Don't hold it against me."

I didn't. Not after eavesdropping on his conversation with Harry. But I didn't want him to know what I'd heard, so I merely shook my head in reassurance.

It was twilight as we walked downtown to The Grill, and as the lampposts on the streets lit up and the stars came out and we made gentle conversation, I thought it might be nice to hold his hand.

Maybe it was too soon for that. Even if it wasn't, I couldn't summon the courage.

On a Friday night, The Grill was bustling, but Zayn and I sat on stools at the bar and chatted over mugs of beer while we waited for an available billiard table. I flirted as subtly as I could, but not once did he place a hand on my knee or an arm around my back. When we secured ourselves a pool table, I struggled to appear as though I knew what I was doing and occasionally asked for tips and assistance, but Zayn appeared somewhat wary of getting too close.

Perhaps he was playing hard to get. If that was the case, then I knew all about it. I could play along, too. But a worse suspicion niggled at my brain – that in his mind, even though Harry had dispelled our charade for him, I still belonged to someone else.