Not Happening

Chapter 6

Louis and Harry go to the game, but Zayn stays in his room. They always go to games, though. Louis is a big sports fan, and he refuses to miss any of the home games. And Harry isn't a big sports fan, but he's a big Louis fan so he goes, too. Zayn doesn't want to. He sees no point. For one, he still doesn't fully understand the game. For another, being stuffed into a hard seat with people crowded in around him, everyone shouting, is not his idea of a good time.

Plus, he has work to do. So that's what he does, when his room is blissfully empty because Liam's too busy on the field. He needs to get this done, too, because he won't have time to work on it tonight, not when he already has plans.

Fuck. Is he really going through with this? Is he really going to go to this party? It's not his scene. There won't be anyone like him there. The guys that are throwing it are the type that Zayn studiously avoids most of the time. Not to mention the fact that Liam will be there, and.... Zayn would like to avoid Liam for the rest of his life, really, because every time they look at each other Liam smirks this smug little smirk, like he knows he has Zayn. It's horrible.

It's even more horrible because he's right.

It's like - Every time they're alone together, there's that tension in the air that there always is, only it's different. It's not like the two of them waiting for the other to pick a fight, like it used to be. It's Zayn waiting, wondering when Liam's going to kiss him again, but he likes to think that he wouldn't normally let that happen. That it only has happened because he was too pissed at Liam the last two times to think rationally. Under normal, calm circumstances, when his whole body doesn't feel like it's burning with anger or something else, he thinks he'd push Liam away.

Zayn shakes his head, tucking those thoughts away. He focuses on his work instead, on reading his book for class, writing down important quotes for the paper he's supposed to write on the antagonist. Only he doesn't have much left to do. He's been working on it all week, and it's nearly done, and before long he's turning the last page.

With a sigh he gets out of his chair and heads for his dresser. He's not sure why he does it, but he finds himself using the hair gel Louis gifted to him for no reason other than "You can't just hide it under a beanie every day, Zayn," even though that's exactly what Louis does.

In tenth grade, Zayn started wearing his hair up because he thought it looked cool, and it was something he stuck with until twelfth grade when he was too busy with school, work, his part-time job, and student council to spend time making himself look better in the morning. Now he pushes it up into that style again, trying not to think about the fact that he's actually putting effort into going to this party because that makes him lame, doesn't it? Whatever.

He changes, too, out of the dirty sweats he'd crawled out of bed and to class in because he was exhausted. Lastly he slides his glasses onto his face, just because. He doesn't need them all the time. His sight isn't really that bad, but he needs them to read, and he likes them.

Their team wins the game, unsurprisingly. They always win. He knows this because of the guys running up and down the hall, whooping and cheering. In the next hour their common room will be filled, doors will be left open. That's how everyone celebrates, while Zayn usually locks his door and takes advantage of the fact that Liam will be out until late that night, getting shitfaced in celebration of the win.

Only tonight he doesn't do that. Tonight he pulls on a sweater, grabs his wallet for his I.D. and some cash in case he needs to take a cab home, and he heads for the statue of the school founder. It's just outside the science building, the closest building to the edge of campus, where he's supposed to meet Niall and the others.

It's cold out, the early November air making him pull his sweater in tighter around himself. Louis and Harry are already at the statue when he gets there, Niall leaning heavily against it. Louis has white and red paint on his cheeks, and Harry has a tiny smudge of it on his neck, like Louis had rubbed it there while putting his own paint on.