Beacon in the Darkness

16. Sundown

"Damn it, Malik! Stay on sides for god sake," Shawn said, walking back toward center field as the opposing players positioned themselves behind the ball.

"Can it, Mendes. I am. It was a bad call." Zayn trailed behind just slightly.

"Which time? This specific one, or the other four times you were called today?" Shawn shook his head. "I swear to God, I'm going to knock you on your ass if you don't pay attention."

He knew he was having a total girl fit, and it was just a practice scrimmage, but he'd had it with Zayn. The fact that Zayn had just been moved up to starting left forward was just the catalyst for a much bigger matter—the issue of Zayn shamelessly throwing himself at Camila the entire week. Logically, Shawn knew it wasn't Zayn's fault since no one knew about himself and Camila. But that didn't stop him from taking his possessive jealousies out on him whenever he could. Yep, that made him a douche of the highest order, but he couldn't seem to muster the energy to care.

Shawn had been dying for a reason to wail on Zayn since the arm slinging incident on Monday. Add to that each and every time he spotted him waiting at Camila's locker or plopping his ass down next to her at lunch. In his mind, the guy was hitting on his girl—it didn't matter that he didn't know, or that Shawn and Camila hadn't even discussed the specifics of what they were to each other yet. Semantics.

"What's your problem, Mendes? You've been on me all week."

As much as Shawn wanted to give him the rundown on all the reasons why he had the irrational urge to rearrange his face, he knew he couldn't. "You think this is me being on you? Keep it up and I'll show you exactly what that means, Malik."

Zayn ran a hand through his hair, a slightly exasperated look on his face. It probably should have made Shawn feel bad for being such an ass, but as with anything, it didn't.

"Sorry," Zayn said. "I'm just distracted."

What the hell could he have to be distracted about?

"Whatever. Just save it for when you're not on the field." Shawn shrugged off the curiosity he felt over what could possibly distract Zayn from what was going on around him. He sincerely hoped whatever it was did not look especially tempting with long brunette Pippi Longstocking braids or he'd have to go back on his self imposed "do not mess up Zayn" vow.

"Mendes! Malik! Problem?" Coach Mark's voice thundered from the sidelines.

"No Coach," Zayn answered. Shawn remained silent.

"Good. Keep it that way or you'll both be running laps."

"Suck up," Shawn muttered.

"What? You want to run laps?" Zayn whisper shouted.

Shawn shrugged, truthfully not caring at that point. He was a soccer player; running was second nature to him and the threat of it as a punishment was laughable. At least the physical activity kept his frustration at bay. Ever since the night of the dance, he'd felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety he couldn't shake. He knew being with Camila would be difficult, but just how difficult he'd never realized. Not that it should have come as a surprise. Camila was a good girl: sweet, innocent, and caring. And he, well, he wasn't. In fact, he was the exact opposite of all of those things. He was not good, sweet, caring, and he definitely wasn't innocent.