All is Fair: Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Chapter 3

Am I the only person who realizes how great it feels to hear someone say my name? During a conversation. It makes me feel special, remembered, that I am not just part of a crowd. Someone is genuinely interested in talking to me. That is how I feel when I leave art class today, everyday. It has been six weeks since Zayn and I met, and we have become fast friends. He is just as playful,and charming as he was when we first met, and twice as attractive.

I enter my house and immediately notice my brother sprawled out on the couch playing some video game. My brother Isaac is two years older than me. He towers over almost everyone, taking after our father. He has dark brown hair and green eyes that resemble mine.

"When are you going to move out?" I complain.

He lifts his head up enough to see that I was addressing him. "Why should I?"

"You're nineteen," I stress his age.

"If I move out, who's going to take care of you three? We all know women can't protect themselves. Remember that dog that attacked you? Who saved you then?"

I roll my eyes. Saving me from a dog is some fantasy Isaac created. Why he still claims it as truth bewilders me. Maybe it boosts his ego. Maybe it justifies him staying at home. "All you do is sit around the house and stink up the place. What about college? What about getting your life started? You'd be helping our family more by-" I stop when I realize Isaac put his headphones on. I sigh and walk into the kitchen.

"Hey Eve," I sing to my little sister. She is stretched out, reaching for Oreos on the top shelf of the pantry. Her long, golden hair falls down her back, partially covering her pink and white striped tank top. When she hears me, she spins around with wide eyes, causing guilt to shine through her features.

Her tense muscles relax, and she lets out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mom. Can you get the Oreos for me, please?"

I walk over to the pantry and retrieve the box of cookies. We both take one out Eve furrows her brow, and I do the same, mocking her movements. "Why are you always in a good mood now? Is there a boy?"

"Woah there's a boy? What's his name? Do I know him?" Isaac says.

"I thought you were playing your stupid video game," I yell back at him. "No there isn't a boy," I respond to Eve in the same playful tone she gave me. "But when there is I promise you'll be the first to know."

She giggles. "Good."

When she smiles, a gap where her two front teeth used to be stand out. She was slower than most kids with losing teeth but nothing else. Eve outshines the entire class. She is eight years old, but already she shows the potential Isaac and I never had. Her looks come from her father. Her complexion screams summer. She has hazel eyes and tan skin and hair that almost matches the color.

I look back at my brother. "Charlotte's coming over today."

"And why does that apply to me?" He asks with his full attention on his video game.

"Just make sure you're decent," I say. Eve laughs. We sit at the table and eat sandwiches until Charlotte arrives. When she does, the two of us go upstairs to my bedroom to do homework.

"I have to study for a math test," I say.

"Me too. Do you have a piece of paper?" She asks.

"There's some in my backpack." Charlotte grabs my backpack and digs through it. Log7=x, I think. I punch random shit into my calculator.

"What's this?" I look up. She takes out a piece of paper I wish I had not forgotten about.

"Let me see," I say. My heart starts to race and I grab for the paper. Unsuccessful, I helplessly watch Charlotte decipher the signature on the cartoon drawing of myself.

"It says Zayn Malik," she half-whispers. "Where did you get this?"

She stares into my eyes, and I have to look away. I try to stutter out an answer, but I am interrupted.

She speaks louder and quicker. "This is the person in your art class? The one that made you nervous all of the time?" She pauses. "You don't like him do you?"

I start to pick at the carpet.

"Jessie, he's a total dick." She slams the drawing on the ground. I lay down and put a pillow on my face. I do not need her lecturing me. "You know he smokes," she says. "And you've heard how much of a douchebag he is-"

Blah blah blah. I block out everything she says. At then end of her monologue, she asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I stare at her. "You're fucking kidding me. This is why I didn't tell you," I motion randomly in the room, trying to point to the speech she just gave.

She opens her mouth as if to speak, but stops herself. She calms down and says, "Fine, I'll stop bugging you about him." My whole body lets out a sigh of relief. "But I want to know how you guys met, and what the drawing is about."

"Fine." I tell Charlotte about the first two days of art class, and she interrupts with stupid questions like what was he wearing, and what were we talking about. When I finish, I realize how great it felt to tell someone. Why did I keep it from her in the first place?

The edges of her mouth slowly curve up into a smile. "You would be perfect for each other." I remember why. I groan.

"Didn't you hate him five minutes ago?"

"That was before I knew how sweet he was." Charlotte seems to like him more than I do, and she has not even met him. "The way he flirted with you while you drew each other, and when he opened the door for you." If she continues this, I will never be able to face art class again.

A smile tugs at the ends of my lip. I grab a pillow and hit her with it. "Shut up, you know nothing."