not okay {ziam}

twenty-six

however, unsurprisingly, zayn is without concern.

none of this piques his interest, rather — he seems even more detached from any sort of facade. he doesn't bother to drum up any image of charm or, lure any newcomers into his grace. it's as if, from my gaze through the corner of my vision, that the boy is completely lifeless. zayn sits amongst people he doesn't know, playing with his lighter and sucking on his gums without relent. i know he's drawn blood in his mouth, from the way his teeth gnaws into the fleshy parts of his cheeks. i also know he's burning holes into the side of my face, not knowing whether he wants to avoid me or tear me away into his tight grasp.

if i could describe zayn in this moment of time — for the first time ever, it would appear that he's tense. his knee is bouncing under the table and he is jittery with either nervousness or his habitual wrath. i just couldn't really tell which.

"it's pretty weird that the principal has gone so quiet." a blonde boy with friendly eyes is interrupting my train of thought. he is shoveling food into his mouth, unable to share eye-contact for more than half a second. the kid couldn't be any more boyish if he wanted to -- with his red hat that disguises the acne across his forehead and the tattered soccer jersey covered in grass stains. i try to scrape my mind for his name, as he continues to blather, "it's like it never occurred to her that a kid from this school could've killed her favorite student."

"i just don't get why people liked her so much." kris, the frisky halfwit, cuts him off, rolling a cigarette tightly and amateur-like. she's so clearly envious of the lack of attention on her, trying everything in her might to rear the limelight back onto her trashy display. she tucks her dry, damaged hair behind her pierced ear and snorts, "she was just pretending to be some goody two shoes. when, really, at the end of the day, she was just some overconfident slut with good grades and an ugly boyfriend. who -- let's all be clear about this -- had a huge dick. that's the only reason she dated him."

it rings alarm bells through me to stay away from her, as some of the guys in the group chuckle at her rant. she seems viscously insecure and volatile, so when she lifts her hooded, painted black eyes at me — i immediately evade her. she notices this and it makes her even angrier, as natalie kicks my leg under the table gently. it's like kris has lost a competition within herself -- that i, a male, doesn't find her misogyny attractive. that by hating on other girls only makes her appear as unconfident and obnoxious. briefly, i gape at natalie and she's already mouthing at me, 'don't.'

kris sticks her cigarette in her ratty hair for later and starts to bite at her abused nails, eating away at her self-consciousness.

"can we not talk about the cock size of our friend who's probably sitting in a jail cell right now cuffed to the toilet?" the blonde boy, i now remember as gus, is begging the ruthless girl in front of me. he doesn't really fit in with this group, like me, he's a little too clean-cut and virtuous. i start to remember him from the party and how he seemed like patrick's bitch following his every command. i obviously wasn't the only one patrick was trying to woo over, he obviously knew a lot more than what he was giving on. he could tell his time was limited and that he needed support — or else he had no hope. yet even with this gullible boy's desperate loyalty, there was no escaping what was to come.

"i'm just sick of this bullshit about amanda seymour being an angel. she was as fucked up as the rest of us." kris says, grinning and enjoying riling up her friends, "honestly, she had it coming."

natalie cracks and gives in to what she wants, shooting daggers and sharp insults, "the fact that you're jealous of a dead girl because she's getting all the attention is enough to make me want to punch your lights out."

kris doesn't falter from her friend, announcing, "i'm just saying what everyone else is thinking."

"that what? because she was a little promiscuous that she deserved to be killed like that?" natalie interjects, angry and ready to incite some sort of scathing attack on the stupid, ridiculous girl seeking out provocation. it only makes me like the feisty brunette more, because she's brilliantly quick and unafraid of judgment. she doesn't mind if she comes across as assertive or hostile, because she's not concerned with being liked. without any hesitancy, natalie continues to confront the blonde, "if we're following that logic then -- kris, i hate to break it to you -- our time is ticking. any day now we could end up dead in the woods for being such hoe-bags."