Matching Rings [h.s]

47

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

"I'm not skinny dipping." I stick my hand out the sunroof just to feel how cold it was outside, my fingertips immediately froze at the powerful wind.

"Neither am I, are you crazy?" Zayn shoots me a look again, his eyebrows high and mouth parted while my head is practically on his shoulder. "Too cold for that, I'd get hypothermia." He exaggerates.

"We're just walking around, there's a blanket in the back so if you want we can sit on the sand for a little." Liam tells me without taking his eyes off the road.

I sit back in my seat, bobbing my head to enjoy the music and once in a while having short conversation with my friends here and there. When Liam brought up another question about fostering, I told him I didn't want to have to stress over that today. I haven't been to the beach in ages, I want to just enjoy the day with my friends.

Harry was still being stubborn, he engaged in conversation when they didn't involve me and requested songs for Zayn to play over the car speaker every now and then. He's acting like a child over me not telling him Niall was now living with me. I can understand the 'me not telling him', I would be a little annoyed too, but it's not anyone's fault that Niall was there— he shouldn't be blaming me.

We drove for a good hour and a half, finally getting to the beach side and driving along the shoreline streets. The smell of the sea filled the car as we all now had our windows down, the breeze making my hair wild. It was quite cold outside, I regret not bringing along that sweater.

After another half hour of driving along the beach, we arrived at the certain beach we were trying to get to. There was a boardwalk and many restaurants and fun little shops we could explore. I've been here countless times before, but it's always fun no matter what.

"Bay." Zayn turns over his shoulder to grab my attention, I cringe at the nickname I still very much hate. "Is there a black bag under my chair?"

I shuffle my feet, searching for a bag that matches his description— locating one that fit. It was a small black backpack with dark navy blue trims. I untangle the straps from under the seat and hand it to him.

I rest back in my seat, watching the sea from behind my open window. There were a lot of people here today, which didn't surprise me considering it's a Saturday. I was sitting on the beach side of the car, Harry on the opposite and less exciting side— though he still refused to look over.

"No." Liam tells Zayn, catching my attention as I refocused my attention to the boys in the front seat. "You're not going to smell up my car."

"Chill out," Zayn begins his reply. "I was just seeing if I brought them, they're for later."

I peer my head around the seat so I could see what Zayn must have pulled out of his bag that got Liam fried in seconds. I see that Zayn had pulled out a small black metal box, the same one he had that night we spent together in his car— immediately remembering the memory and knowing what was in that box.

"You brought weed?" I question Zayn, the smallest amount of thrill in my voice.

After my limited experience with weed, I was curious to try again. Neither of the two times I had been high were relatively bad. The first was the night in Zayn's car, which wasn't a bad experience in the slightest. And the second being a complete accident, but still wasn't too bad, just a little much for my liking.

So I was open to trying again.

"Mhm." Zayn hums out a yes, shoving the box back into the small pocket of the bag. "You're welcome to have some."