Save Me [Zarry]

Guitar Lessons

CHAPTER 5:

"If I let you know, I'm here for you." ~Little Things, One Direction.

Wednesday, 7th August 2013

HARRY'S POV

Two days had passed since that conversation— or whatever you want to call it —at the library with Zayn. And yes that means it's Wednesday. And yes that means I've to give Zayn his homework which I had stayed up all night to complete.

I know I should have refused to do it, and should have gone to my friends for support but the truth is, I didn't want to upset Zayn. I wasn't afraid of his anger, I just wanted to make him happy. Call me stupid, call me a masochist, but it's the truth.

It was a while before I had to get to class and meet up with my friends. I was returning my books in the library when I heard his voice again. "Curly!" Looks like he knows where to find me.

Well, Curly is way better than twat. Almost sounds like a term of endearment.

"Got my work, wannabe-hipster?"

"What?" I asked slowly, holding in a chuckle. Did he just call me a wannabe-hipster? Weird insult indeed.

He blushed. The fudge? Zayn Malik blushing? "Yeah." Then his usual scowl slipped into place. "So, the homework?"

I nodded and rummaged around in my bag and finding it, offered the binder to him. He snatched it out of my hands, but still his fingers managed to touch mine for a second. And not to sound cheesy or anything but I swear I felt tingles on my skin.

I looked up from my hand to Zayn's face and I guess maybe, probably, kinda, sorta, he had felt the same? 'Cos he was frowning at the ground, and looked like he was thinking hard.

"Um, Zayn? You ok?" I asked slowly, his name rolling off my tongue.

When I spoke his name, he snapped his caramel brown eyes back up at me, shot me a glare and stalked off in the opposite direction.

That was weird. One minute, he's the rough and tough guy, and then the next he's the blushing and broody guy. Zayn Malik is seriously bipolar.

~*~

After school, I was hanging out with Niall— my new blond Irish friend —at my house, who had promised to teach me to not suck at the guitar.

Mum wasn't home. At least she had cared enough to tell me that she was out with some friends. Which friends? I don't know. And that worries me.

I had my Dad's old guitar with me. Even though I hated the man with a burning passion because of how he'd left me and Mum when we had needed him the most, I still kept this guitar 'cos it reminded me of the good times. When he used to play a new song every night to a seven year old me before bed.

My Dad is or was, a music composer. Don't know if he still is. He was the one who had taught me and encouraged me to sing, he was the one who had taught me to play the piano and the kazoo as well.

"You ok, Harry?"

I looked up at Niall. "Hmm. Just caught up in some memories," I replied and he nodded understandingly.

"Ok then, let's begin the Guitar Lessons 101 class!"

"Alright, so you play it like this: first the C chord. This is D minor. Yeah that's it! You got it!" And it went on like this.

So after hours filled with lots of guitar strumming and junk food munching, I finally got the hang of almost all the common chords.

Niall's an awesome teacher, but he insists that I'm a great learner as well. Guess we're both awesome. Haha.