After Midnight

chapter five.

5 - SCARLETT

I anxiously tap my foot on the ground as I wait for Zayn to walk through the door. I try to distract myself by writing in my journal, but my head is blank.

It's been a little over an hour since our phone call, and I'm hoping he hasn't changed his mind about the whole bucket list thing.

Why do you always assume people will bail on you?

Before my mind goes into a full-blown therapy session, I see the tall, handsome brunette walk through the door, his eyes finding mine immediately.

He gives me the most stunning smile before turning to Sandra and ordering himself a drink. I tear my eyes from him, trying not to gawk at his outfit.

He's clad in a pair of light-wash jeans and a simple black hoodie, yet he looks absolutely amazing. I nervously sip on my coffee and wait for him to approach me.

"Hi," he says, sitting down and looking into my eyes.

"Hi," I waste no time and pull the two concert tickets out of my pocket, placing them in front of him.

"What are these?" He questions, glancing at the tickets.

"Concert tickets. There's an outdoor show about thirty minutes from here. A couple of unknown bands are performing." I try my best not to ramble.

"A random concert, huh? What number was that?"

"Um, four, but we don't have to go if you don't want to. They were cheap tickets. I get if you don't want to, I didn't really give you a warning or anything." I ramble.

Stop rambling, Scarlett.

Zayn's face carries a playful look. "Sounds fun. Let's go," is all he says. Those four words alone were enough to calm my nerves.

"Awesome. We should get going. The first set is at ten, and it's an hour away." I put the tickets in my bag in exchange for my keys and stand up.

Zayn puts his hand over mine, shaking his head. "You paid for the tickets. We'll use up my gas."

I bite my lip to subtly hide a smile and nod, following him out of the cafe and to his car. I do a mini dance in my head when I see a regular SUV rather than a truck. Not that it would really matter at this point anyway. I just really don't like trucks. 

"How was your day?" He asks, starting up the car. I hand him my phone with the address on it, and he plugs it into his GPS while awaiting my response.

"It was good, boring. Lots of school work to do." Today sucked. I've had a headache for what feels like ages. I've written so many papers this past week I could publish my own newspaper. I am ready for a year-long nap. As soon as possible, please.

Zayn doesn't respond right away, only after we're pulling away from 25 Hours and starting our hour-long journey. "You do this thing," he starts.

"Hm?" I question, observing his beautiful side profile as he focuses on the road. His nose is imperfect, a large bump curving it, but it is only noticeable from the side. It fits his face perfectly.

"After you answer a question, you doze off a bit, like you're giving an extended answer in your mind." Do I really do that? Visibly zone out? Wow, I always thought I was subtle with it.

"Um," I pinch the inside of my wrist again, trying desperately to relieve some anxiety. "I guess I do, kinda."

He turns to me momentarily. I can feel him analyzing me. "Why do you shorten your sentences?"