The Right Direction (Zayn Malik)

"No need to sweat about it, sis." Harry said. Yes, 'sis'. It's something all of the boys here refer to me as. They all treat me as if I was one of them-- a sibling. "Zayn's already brought it into the limo." He casually stated. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of his name.

I almost hollered right then and there, in the dead center of the airport. "You trusted that Barbie with my luggage?" I asked. "He's probably putting itching powder in my underwear right now." I sighed, rubbing my hand against my agitated face.

Harry took my hand in his and brought it back toward my side. "Don't do that to yourself, gorgeous." He said. "Zayn promised us that he wouldn't torment you during your stay."

I raised my left eyebrow, narrowing my eyes at Harry in disbelief. "He promised you guys?"

"Okay," Harry sulked at my glare. "We made him promise."

This only made my expression harden.

"We kind-of-sort-of forced him to?" He tried, swallowing back the lump in his throat.

There is no way someone as stubborn as Zayn Malik would easily give out of doing something he loved -- which was singing and making my life a living hell. Not unless he was forced to.

"Alright, alright." Harry held up his hands in defense. "We hid all of his hair products and wouldn't give it back unless he promised."

I knew I was missing something. His hair products, of course. Why didn't I think of that one? Zayn Malik has been out to destroy my life ever since I met him and the rest of the bandwagon one year ago. He's never had a reason for disliking me, but that never stopped him from making his point evident. Whether it was his name-calling, rude comments, harsh glares, or cruel gestures, Zayn Malik hated my guts. Period.

"The lad's a stubborn one," Niall chimed in.

"Don't worry, babe." Harry blissfully said, snaking his arm around my waist and leading me toward the automatic doors. "Just stick with me and I'll be sure to keep you safe."

Liam grabbed Harry's arm and placed them at his side at once. Harry only stuck his tongue out at him, and sent a playful wink in my direction. All of the rumors were true, Harry Styles was a flirt. If he weren't famous for his voice and good-looks, it would definitely be for that little devious mind of his. His teasing was almost always harmless, and everyone knew he didn't look at me in 'that' way. We were only good friends.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Styles." Liam warned.

Harry smirked. "Your sister wasn't thinking that."

This only earned him a smack at the back of his head and a laugh out of me, Niall and Louis. Liam opened the limo door for us, and I sprightly praised him for being such a gentlemen. I climbed into the limo, scooting all the way down the row so that the rest of the boys could sit. Louis sat beside me, Niall adjacent to him, and Liam at the end. Harry sat across from Liam, while Zayn sat opposite of me.

Wait, Zayn!?

He was first to speak. "Scarlet." He said, nodding his head curtly.

My facial expression never changed. My face was serious at his eyes bore into mine. I couldn't help but notice how much lighter they seemed in the lighting. It made him seem innocent, as if he had never done anything anarchy. "Zayn."

". . . Awkward." The two of us broke eye contact as we turned our heads to stare at Louis. He was smiling to himself in a silly manner, as if he had just thought of an inside joke.

Zayn shot the two of us a malicious smile. "No, not awkward." He corrected Louis. "Just two friends catching up."

Two friends? I didn't know the definition of friendship was name-calling, constant put-downs, and acting bitter toward one another. But, if it was, Zayn and I would fall perfectly into that category. I only gave him a sour smile, to which he returned with a pestered grin. Did I mention he also acted bi-polar? Well, if I didn't, then there you have it, folks. Hardcore evidence and proof.

The rest of the car ride was boisterous. I had laughed so much in the last hour that I almost forgot Zayn was sitting across from me. Zayn was mostly silent, and kept to himself the whole hour. But that didn't matter. I wasn't going to let him rain on my parade my whole entire visit. I was here for my real brother, and my brothers-from-another-mother. Don't ask where I got the last part from, though. One of the kids in my Boarding School who kept his pants down to his ankles insisted that I called him that.