ETHEREALLY | 18+

6 | Anger Issues

Deciding to avoid the cafeteria during lunch, I headed to the library. The prospect of being in a crowd was something I couldn't handle right now.

I randomly picked a book from the shelf and ascended to the library's second floor. Making my way to the very back, I settled onto a brown leather couch positioned beside a sizable window.

Pulling out my phone, I opened my contacts. Gazing at my mom's number, I pressed it. The call rang for 15 seconds before inevitably going to voicemail—no surprise there. The same scenario played out when I attempted to reach my dad.

"I'm freaking pathetic," I mumbled to myself, feeling tears welling up as I powered off my phone. I didn't know why I bothered calling them; it just seemed to intensify my own pain.

I picked up the book I had brought, flipping through its pages aimlessly. Why did I even bother getting it when I had no intention of reading?

Suddenly, my phone rang, and I hastily checked the caller ID, only to be disappointed by a random number. Ignoring the call, I set my phone down once again and gazed out the window.

The persistent number flashed on my screen once more. I stared at it for a moment before relenting and answering, "Hello?"

"Where are you?" the voice on the other end demanded. His deep tone sounded oddly familiar.

"Zayn?" I questioned. "How did you get my number?" Confusion and shock barely covered my feelings.

"You didn't answer my question," he retorted coldly.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see it. "Why do you want to know where I am?"

Silence lingered for a few seconds until he finally spoke again. "Aurora," he began, "I'm giving you five seconds to tell me where you are before I tear down this school looking for you."

"I'm at the library," my voice quieter than usual.

"I'm coming," he said and hung up.

Staring at my phone's blank screen, I remained confused by the conversation. I clicked on his number and decided to save it, just in case he ever called me again.

I heard footsteps approaching and glanced up to see Zayn heading my way. He wore an all-black outfit – sweatpants and a long-sleeve crewneck.

Even from my vantage point, I could spot the tattoos adorning both his hands and knuckles. When I mentioned he was fully covered in tattoos, I wasn't exaggerating. There wasn't an inch of skin left untouched, from what I've seen so far.

As he approached, Zayn settled onto the same couch where I was seated, turning his face to meet my gaze. His eyes appeared a lighter shade of blue today.

"This is where you spend your free time?" he asked, scanning the surroundings. "I think this is my first time stepping inside this library."

"It's peaceful in here. I just wanted to be somewhere quiet," I explained.

He looked at me once more, his gaze penetrating into my eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

I quickly shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was delve into my mommy and daddy issues with Zayn, whom I had just met yesterday. "I'm just tired."

Before he could press further, I shifted the topic. "Why are you here, Zayn?"

Running his fingers through his inky black hair, he replied, "Ryder got worried when you didn't show up for lunch. He wouldn't stop bugging me about it, so I called to see where you were."

"Well, you found me," I stated quietly. "You can tell him to stop worrying."

For someone I had met just a day ago, he turned out to be surprisingly sweet. All of them were, in their own way. I had anticipated the guys to be quite the opposite, but so far, I was proven wrong.