|maneater z.m.|

FIVE

Her nimble fingers glide across the lock again, frustrated because she could not get it to open although it was her fourth attempt. She was waiting for her mother to get her for practice.

"Move over." A familiar voice boomed beside her. She turns her head quickly to meet Zayn's caramel colored eyes. Lost in them for several seconds, she drops her hands to her side and moves so he can access her locker.

"34, 20, 12." She says, leaning against the locker next to hers, watching as he opened it easily.

"How?"

"You'll get used to it. Just go left, right, left and go around one full circle before reaching the 20." He explains, moving so she could go to her locker. She nods with an open toothed smile, collecting her jacket before slamming it shut again.

"Thank you." She says, refusing to look into his eyes again. Ambrosia walks away and Zayn follows behind her, rushing to open the door for her as she left the building. Perched on the balcony of the long staircases, she watched the sky's clouds.

"Who are you waiting for? Do you need a ride?" Zayn asks from the bottom of the long staircases and handicap ramp.

"Um, my mom.. I have dance in an hour and Niall usually gets me but he had NHS stuff today."

"When he's busy you can count on me to take you home." Zayn offers, staring her up and down while she wasn't looking. Looks just like her, he thinks, biting his lips as good and bad memories of Gracie rushed through his mind.

"Thank you, that's nice which wasn't at all what I expected after lunch today."

"I don't know what you're taking about, I'm the nicest." He says, walking away nonchalantly. Ambrosia watches him walk away before glancing back down at her phone. Scrolling through to Life360, she sees her mother still at the dance studio and frowns.

"Hey, call your mom and tell her you have a ride home and to dance." Zayn says loudly from the bottom of the staircases that lead to the entrance of the school where Ambrosia was.

Ambrosia nods and grabs her backpack, texting her mom and telling her she has a ride. She waited there for the boy to come back, anxiously waiting for her mom's response. A loud "hey!" snaps her out of her trance, eyes widen as they lift and see a motorcycle before them. Instantly regretting her text, she shakes her head and turns around to walk away, saying a quick, "Nevermind but thank you!"

"Come on, you're gonna be late." Zayn reasons, holding his helmet out for her. She turns around and grabs it, strapping it onto her head.

"If we die, I'm gonna kill you." Ambrosia warns, sitting behind Zayn.

"I'm not gonna go fast but hold on anyways." Zayn instructs. She nods and clutches onto Zayn with both hands, not caring that her short school skirt hiked up her thighs.

With her eyes closed the entire time, she arrives home rather quickly. Granted, it was ten minutes away from school but it seemed faster on a motorcycle. They parked on the driveway leading to the garage before getting off the motorcycle and walking towards the door. She opens the door, a puff of cold air making her shiver as she enters into the foyer with Zayn following her.

Her home, although relatively new, had a quaint charm to it. The entrance was completely white and circular, with a long staircase that held onto the circular shape of the walls all the way up to the second floor. The ceilings were high and dangled pretty chandeliers from it. Zayn couldn't understand why. All the windows were big and well distributed around the modern home. Why did they need more light than that?

To the right of the foyer was an office space with sliding doors that led to the patio and an underground pool. If memory serves right, he thinks, there's a treehouse out there too. To the left was the living room. Russian nesting dolls and Vivaldi egg antiques sat on the fireplace, along with pictures of a baby Ambrosia and her mother. At the corner of the nicely decorated room was a cello bigger than Ambrosia herself.

Between the fireplace and a cello was a large arch that led to a hallway. The hallway was filled with portraits and paintings, leading to the dinning room/kitchen area. The room was composed of huge windows that took up the entire walls. It was very well done, open concept and all those things Zayn's mom used to watch on HGTV. The place looked straight out of a magazine. There were two more doors, one he presumed that led to the garage and another to the restroom situated under the staircase. That's all Zayn got to explore before Ambrosia bolted down the stairs in a pink leotard and leggings.   

"Zayn!" She yelled. He ran out of the kitchen, towards the living room only to meet her in the hallway.

"What the fuck were you doing?" She demands loudly, arms crossed over her chest and eyes angry.

"Chill, I just needed to use the bathroom. I may be poor but I'm no a thief." Zayn says, hands up as if he were being pursued by the police.

"That's not what I meant... I just, I'm sorry. I get lost here too. I'll show you to the bathroom, follow me." She says sheepishly.

Zayn follows behind her, eyes trained on her figure. Meanwhile, she still felt bad about lashing out at him. They walk through the living room and into the foyer.

He looked confused as she pushed into one of the walls. It opened forward to reveal a bathroom.

She waited for him on the circular couch situated in the middle of the foyer, scrolling aimlessly on her phone until he went out. They left the house and drove to Miriam's School of Dance without a word. Except for when she gave him the directions, of course. Ambrosia hopped off and returned his helmet with an embarrassed smile.

"Again, I'm sorry about-"

"Not giving me a proper tour? It's good, but next time we hang you should show me around better." He says, knowing what she was apologizing for and forgiving her immediately.

She smiles with a nod, "thank you again for everything."

Right as she opened the doors, Zayn yelled, loud enough for her to hear, "So this Friday?"

"What's happening Friday?" She laughed, turning around and placing her hand over her eyes to block the sun.

"Our date. I'll pick you up at 8."