twelve. phone calls

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"Alright, well--?"

Zayn rolls his eyes. He flips on the lights on his apartment and sighs loudly. It was too late, especially for this phone call, "What, Haz?"

"You're back, yeah? You're at your place?"

"Just got in, yeah," he pauses, "why...?"

"I'm coming over," Harry says at once.

"Wait, Haz--" Zayn's exhausted and only wants to eat and pass out after a shower. "Wait, I--"

But the line is dead.

"Fuck..."

Zayn runs his hands frustratedly through his hair.

Harry was coming over.

And he shows up not much longer with an expectant smile.

"Well?" He asks. "C'mon, you've got to tell me how it was."

"I mean," Zayn shrugs as Harry follows him through his apartment. "It was cool."

"Cool?" Harry slips into a seat at the table. "No, Zayn. Times Square is cool. Yankee Stadium is cool. You just went on a vacation to Latin America. You can't tell me that was just cool."

"It was amazing, alright? God, it was..." He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking the skin loudly as he stares across his kitchen. "It was really fucking amazing."

"Yeah?" Harry grins, dimples popping.

"Yeah."

"You look good. You look tan."

Zayn laughs. "Thanks, Haz."

"You look less stressed, too," he nods. "Kind of like you got some."

"Shut up, Haz."

"Oh yeah," he exclaims, "Okay, I can tell something happened," he leans towards him, "It did, didn't it?"

"I mean..."

Harry bangs his palms upon the table. "Knew it!"

"Jesus, Harry," Zayn laughs, "You're out of your mind."

"No, that was you before you ended that dry spell of yours."

"Wow. mate."

"So? What'd she look like? She's Brazilian, wasn't she? Or were there multiple girls? There were a few? Could they speak English? Did you get--?"

"Whoa, whoa," Zayn holds up his hands, "first of all, these questions are wildly specific," he chuckles, "Secondly, it was one girl, and she was American," and Zayn's mind clouds with thoughts of that bright smile and red hair. "Although it shouldn't even matter, mate. It's over. It's done."

"She was on the trip with you, or just some girl you met one night?"

"She...She was on the trip, too."

"Oh," Harry nods knowingly. "And...?"

"And what?"

"And," Harry prods, "you liked her."

"I--We were friends," he retorts.

"Were?"

"I--" Zayn can't help but frown at that disastrous flight and even more disastrous goodbye in San Diego. "Yeah. Yeah, we were friends."

"Who had sex?"

"Yeah."

"And you liked her?"

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