pure fiction // ziam

forty three

Waiting for these last few minutes of class to end is like the longest wait for eternity to end. Time is going incredibly slow and I'm dying in my seat doing nothing. I've already finished all my work like usual and now I'm just sitting here watching time tick by.

The conversations some people have in class is ridiculous like "Omg did you hear what happened with Britney and Sarah last weekend?" or "Michael and Taylor were caught having sex in Mr. Ernest's classroom" or the "Carlos and Anthony were making out in the boys locker room" It's so much to process, that all of this is going on at the same time and that you're really just a speck of dust in a room.

The bell rings and I'm the first one out the door. I walk directly outside without stopping for anyone, I just really want to go home and sleep. I've been so sleep deprived lately that sometimes I can't even tell if the sky is blue. Today I decide to ride the bus home, I don't really feel like walking. I find a seat in the back, away from everyone. This is the only bus that goes to my side of town, where few of the people that come to school here live. The quiet soothes me and I watch the trees start to move as does the bus. It's something about the sunlight hitting the trees and creating these mesmerizing shadows on the concrete that make me want to just pain the whole world. At times like this is when I find myself at ease.

After getting dropped off I already see the kids playing around in the playground, with parents starting up conversations about their kids. It's funny how that works, that parents while parents are in settings where kids are present they don't talk about themselves—they talk about their children as if they are trying to impress each other by using their offspring.

It's when I'm halfway home—three
blocks away—when a familiar blue car stops in the corner.

"Hop in loser"

"Gigi, I just want to go home"

"No we're going shopping"

Usually shopping meant one of three things: 1) we're going to eat and talk shit 2) we're going to look at things and dream about owning them or 3) actually shop. I stand in the blazing afternoon soon moving my head back and forth between Gigi and the street of where my house is.

"Fine" I give in and get inside the car. Gigi claps her hands in victory and speeds into the city.

• • • • •

We arrive at the mall. We immediately go into the food court as Gigi was complaining the whole ride over on how hungry she was and how she had to skip lunch to work on a project due today. I told her it was her own fault, nobody told her to leave the project for last minute, literally an hour before it's supposed to be turned in.

"I'm thinking some Chinese, how about you?"

"You're the one paying"

"How rude of you. That is not how a man should treat a lady"

"I don't treat girls like how I would treat guys"

"Yeah, you wouldn't cheat on them—or date them for that matter" Gigi jokes, I know she meant no harm by saying that, and maybe I do deserve it, but it's still a little too soon for that.

"Too soon"

We order Chinese and pick the spot we always sit at, a booth by the corner that let's us see everyone walking from every direction. We chose this spot solely for the purpose of judging any guy that passes by, seeing which one we'll be a potential match.

"How about that one?"

A guy with brunette hair swept to the side, a thick beard, a denim jacket with a white t-shirt and jeans that fit just perfectly around the necessary areas to make him look like a meal.

"That outfit is overuse but he makes it work so fucking well" I say and we watch as he ordered a cup of coffee at the kiosk across the court. From the other side a guy with black hair, wearing a red plaid and white skinny jeans goes up to him and puts an arm around the taller guy's waist.

"But he seems to be taken" Gigi said and took a sip out of her cup in disappointment.

We spend a good half an hour sitting here watching the people walk by and scrolling through the endless abyss that is social media. Coming across a variety of juicy details.

"Oh my god" Gigi said and put a hand over her mouth.

"What is it?"

"Nothing" She says and locks her phone, setting it down on the table, "It was nothing"

"Ya see, I know you're hiding something and good thing I know your password" I said as I snatched her phone off the table and unlocked it. The screen opened to a photo of Liam and some dude from the senior class out on a date. The timestamp reads 8 minutes ago and the location is at the same mall we're in.

"Zayn?" I hear Gigi's voice but my brain nor body can register how to respond. It's like I'm immobilized in a coma, being able to hear everything but not be able to react to anything.

Inside, I feel jealousy build up into this flaming fury and I don't know how to stop it from growing. I can't feel jealous, we broke up. Me and Liam broke up over a month ago, so why the hell am I feeling jealous of him going out with another guy? I mean, yes of course I still have feelings for him and I still want to be with him, but that doesn't mean I have the right to be jealous. He's not mine. Liam is not mine anymore. He's someone else's now and I have to accept that. On the other hand, I feel like I want to burst into tears, let the tears roll down like river because of how hurt I am that he's been able to move on and find someone else to make him happy. That I'm not able to give him that love and attention anymore. It hurts so fucking much seeing him be happy with another guy meanwhile I'm here stuck in the same place I was a month ago, missing him like a plant missing the rain.

"Zayn" The second time Gigi says my name I come out of my thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Totally fine"

"Are you lying?"

"Yep"

"Zayn..." Gigi says and her tone drops a little, giving off a bit of sadness.

"I'm gonna be fine Gigi"

"You want to go and be petty?"

"Yep"

"Then let's go" Gigi gets of the booth and so do I and she holds out her hand for me to grab. We start to talk towards the direction of the restaurant on the other side of the mall.

I can't believe I'm about to do this.