Awkward Beat [H.S]

Chapter 30

"So," Zayn asked after I'd lined up another shot and missed the pocket by a mile. "If not pool, what does June Fitzpatrick do on a date?"

"In fact," I replied, bravely holding his gaze, "she doesn't go on very many."

Zayn frowned, unconvinced. Rounding the table, he said, "Come off it."

"It's true!"

"I see you," he said slyly.

Eyeing him as he approached and touching my chin to my shoulder as he walked around me, I returned, "You see me what?"

He snorted in amusement, his gaze travelling from my head down the length of my body to my toes. "June, I've known you since first year. I've watched you get all 'cute and flirty' with other blokes." With his free hand, he made air quotes.

I placed a hand on my hip, leaning on my billiard cue. "Were you jealous?"

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, actually."

My breath shortened, and I was glad for the loud music. "But that's not the point," he continued, raising an eyebrow. "I know you're no innocent."

From the way he said it, curious and intrigued, I knew he saw it as a good thing. Still, I couldn't prevent my smile from fading. I took my lower lip between my teeth, nodding stolidly as Zayn bent over to line up his next shot.

So it wasn't just Macy, then. Everyone saw me as a tease.

"You all right?" he asked, glancing at me before taking the shot.

Zoning in, I nodded in reassurance. Satisfied, he took his shot and successfully pocketed the last striped ball. He stepped around the table, determining the best angle to sink the black ball.

"What does Zayn Malik do on a date, then?"

He held up his index finger, gesturing for me to wait while he took his last shot. Effortlessly, he sunk the ball and shrugged with a smug grin.

"You mean besides owning his date at pool?"

"Yeah, you can leave that part out."

He chuckled, joining me at the end of the table. "Well, he's not a very classy guy, to be honest." He rolled the sleeves of his plaid shirt to his elbow, pausing to sip his beer. "He finds movies too restrictive for conversation and dinners too much pressure. So normally," he said, surveying the venue, "he opts for a moderately public place to hang out and makes it his mission to get the girl drunk."

Surprise ending. My jaw dropped.

"Now, before you jump down my throat," he said, laughing at my expression and holding up a hand to silence me again, "my own studies have proven that it's an effective way to relieve the pressure. It's a good way to get to know someone. People are less inhibited when they've had a few, you know? You find out more about them."

Slowly, my jaw re-hinged, and I smacked my lips together as I nodded thoughtfully.

Still chuckling to himself, Zayn added, "You think I'm dirt, don't you?"

"No." Far from it. "Actually... I know exactly what you mean." With that, I slid my hand through the handle of my mug and raised it to my lips, taking a long, decisive sip.

Zayn watched, his brows arching in surprise. "So," he asked once I'd taken a satisfied breath, "you tipsy yet?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good." He took my cue from me and placed both back in their stands. "Let's sit down."

Zayn grabbed our jackets and found us a small, circular table not far from the billiards. While I held our spot, he went to the bar to replenish our alcohol supply and returned with not one, but two pitchers of beer. He wasted no time in filling my mug straight to the top.