Work of Art (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 1

Being pushed off of my bed is not the best way to wake up, yet that's the way my day started.

"GET UP!" My roommate/only friend, Zaina, shouted in my face. "ITS OUR FIRST DAY OF COLLEGE AND WE'RE GONNA BE LATE THANKS TO YOU!"

Mumbling an inaudible, "whatever", I lazily got up and stretched, calmly walking over to my closet and pondered what to wear while scratching the itch on my back. I wasn't much of a planner, unlike Zaina; I just went with whatever I felt like wearing. If I wanted to wear sweatpants on my very first day of community college, then I would. I could tell Zaina was scowling at me. She wasn't normally this uptight, but as this is our first day of college, she must've been apprehensive about this whole 'socializing' thing. I looked over at her. Yup, still scowling. Was she already dressed? It's like, 6:30 in the morning! Jeez, I guess she must've been pretty nervous.

Now, me and Zaina have known each other for ages. We both grew up in Bradford, and we stayed together despite our differences. She was the hot, I was the cold. (Literally. Zaina was the pretty one, while I was the sarcastic asshole. Friendship is a funny thing.) She was interested in science, I was artsy. She was chic and trendy, I threw on whatever clean sweatpants and t-shirts I had. We were basically polar opposites, but she somehow tolerated my laziness and I tolerated her uptightness. It barely all worked out.

I looked over at her once again, and I have to say- she looked so damn perfect. Her dark hair was curled in perfect ringlets and her makeup was just right- she had the perfect amount of mascara on the eyelashes of her almond shaped eyes. I was always jealous of her Chinese descent; something about her ethnicity made her look rather regal. She wore an oversized shirt that said, "Dope" in cursive lettering and leggings with a leather strip down the sides. To top it all off she had floral print Doc Martens, and a grey cardigan. You'd think it would look weird but honestly, she looked great. I wish I had Zaina's fashion sense.

Turning back to my closet, I decided I'd wear dark, faded, skinny jeans and a t-shirt that said, "You can't sit with us". Mean Girls is one of the best movies ever filmed, and I will fight you if you don't think so. I don't usually put on make-up, which people think is total bullshit, but I just never liked the feeling of gunk on my eyelids and/or powder on my face. But since today was the first day of a fresh start, I decided I'd put on a teensy bit of mascara. Grabbing my favorite black hoodie and slipping on my peach colored Vans, I raced to the small kitchen of our dorm and picked up a banana for breakfast. While eating, I yelled to Zaina (Who had grumpily disappeared while I was changing), "I'm ready! Let's go!"

She appeared as soon as I called out and looked me over, nodding in approval. "You forgot your phone, by the way." Shit. That would've been disastrous- I'd be bored out of my mind in the educational classes!

I ran to my dorm room, banana still in hand. I honestly loved my room; posters of TV shows like Sherlock and Supernatural covered one of my walls. The next one had posters of the band's that I loved, including Hey Monday, All Time Low, and Blink-182. The other walls had papers tacked up like goodbye notes and pictures of my family and friends. I walked up to the power outlet and ripped the cord of the charger out of my phone. The screen lit up, and the lock screen showed a picture of me and my grandma. She was an artist- a painter to be exact. I aspired to be her; she was bold and courageous and not afraid to show people what she thought. Again, another person I could not relate to. People constantly told me that I should speak up and not be so quiet, but honestly, I don't think I can. This is the way I was, the way I am, and the way I will be- reserved, quiet, unnoticed. Those things were not necessarily bad.

"Hey, hurry up! We're gonna be late, you assbutt!" I had to laugh at Zaina's sense of humour. She was sometimes so motherly; always nagging me about things. But other times totally forgot to be the mature one and ended up cracking inapropriate jokes. That's why I loved her.

"I'm coming." I called, stuffing my phones into my sweatshirt pocket and running out, but not before closing the door to my room. I needed to forget about the old memories and start new ones. After all, wasn't college supposed to be a fresh start, a new beginning? Let's sure hope so...

~

(A/N)

Wassup my ladies?! How was that for a first chapter? Not too shabby, not too shabby...

Sooo I was thinking of doing short chapters cause I can only write them in a few paragraphs so yeah. I will update if I can. Thank you all for reading this! I love you!

Love from,

Soph