Redacted [h.s]

14

"I don't need you to "look out" for me, Zayn. I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"I know that."

"If you know that, why do I have to be careful with him?"

"Because I know him, Rhea. He's not... Harry has some shit with him."

"Like what?" Instead of answering my question, he just stares at me, so I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Everyone has some shit with them. I'm sure I can handle Harry if I need to. I know you two used to be friends. So if this is some," waving my hand in front of him, "jealous ex-boyfriend thing you have going on, save it."

Zayn scoffs, "I'm not jealous of Harry. Just trust me."

I laugh at his comment, "You want me to trust you, Zayn? That's hilarious." He opens his mouth to speak but I interrupt, "Also, what I do or don't do with Harry isn't your concern."

Another alarm on my phone goes off indicating that I have to go to XO to get ready for my shift. Releasing a loud sign, pinching my nose. I need a fucking nap.

"I'll take you to XO. I didn't see your car, so I know you didn't drive here."

"I'd rather walk."

"Rhea, we're across town."

"And yet, I'd still rather walk 30 miles than accept a ride from you. So, with that being said, I guess I should get a move on."

"God, Rhea, stop being so fucking difficult."

Rolling my eyes at him, "Even if I said yes, you rode your motorcycle here. I'm pretty positive that you only have one helmet with you. And you know how much I hate you not having one when you're on that thing."

"Sounds like you care a bit," he winks.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Rhea, Ubers don't come out here that often and you know it."

We stare at each other for a moment before I groan and as a response, a smile spreads on his face as if he knows I'm going to give in soon.

"Fine."

"That's my girl. Let's go."

Giving me another wink, he pivots and I follow behind him. Zayn checks in with Robin, one of the warehouse staff to ensure everything goes where it needs to go and then locks up.

"I have to stop by the office really quick."

As he disappears into the office, I wait in the hallway. Zayn emerges seconds later with a second helmet, I'm guessing for me because it looks like the one he got me while we were together. This one is shiny, navy blue with a subtle sparkle in it and it also has "rhea" artistically drawn on the back in Zayn's writing.

"Oh," his voice causes me to look up at him, "I always kept an extra one here for you, just in case, you know" there seems to be a little bit of shyness in his tone.

Turning on his heels, he continues leading me outside. A small part of me can't help but to think how cute it is that Zayn's kept a spare helmet for me. And I can't help the warm feeling that flows through me. But I instantly shake it off. No, Zara. It's Zayn. You hate him.

The memory of Zayn gifting me my first helmet flashes through my mind. We weren't dating at the time, just hanging out for the most part and getting close. I'd told him that I'd always been afraid of motorcycles but wanted to ride on one. One morning, he arrived at my house with a smile on his face and a helmet, decorated with a hand-painted sun, in his hand. 

After spending time to assure me that I was safe and us slowly going around my block a few times, we ended up riding down the coast, salty ocean water filling the air and our hair blowing in the wind. That was the moment when I knew that I really liked Zayn, which was a complicated feeling for several reasons. The helmet now rests in the corner of a shelf in my closet, along with a box of some of his stuff that I haven't given back yet.