The Escort {Ziall Horlik}- Discontinued

Chapter 4

Zayn's Point of View:

Niall perplexes me. When I first met him, I thought he was your basic jerk- a money-grabbing hound that thought of no one but himself. But now? I'm not so sure. Maybe there's something more there. I'm just not sure what to make of it all. Right now he's making that face. The one I used to constantly wear. The one where he stares into space and looks lost. I know that look so well. We are heading back to his house in the town car, and he looks expressionless. I've had this look on my face before. And I know that if you look close enough, his bottom lip is trembling in fear and his nose is scrunched up, trying to not cry as his eyes fixate on something in the distance, afraid to break contact with the object he's focused on. Because if you let go of the focus, then your shield cracks and you're left in a puddle of your own tears. His eyes are glossy and the look is just so much more pitiful on him.

I know this look all too well. He's thinking, 'what did I do? How can I make it better? What do I need to do to please you father?' I know it because I used to wear that face constantly. When I would come home late, he was disappointed, when I would come home early he was disappointed. 'You're home late boy what were you thinking?' or 'your home early boy, you lost money by doing that!' then he'd slap me for apparently being stupid, and an imbecile and no good. I know this look. Maybe the circumstances are different but our daddy issues are almost the same. We can never seem to please our fathers in anything we do and it breaks our hearts.

"Niall, you okay?" I ask. "Niall? Blondie? You there?" when I get no response, I take matters into my own hands. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask the driver, wanting to get his attention.

"Yes master Malik?" he answers in a stuffy voice. I grimace at the name.

"It's just Zayn sir." I hate being called by my last name. It reminds me too much of my father.

"Okay sir, what can I do for you?"

I give up on attempting to clarify what I'd like to be called. It's pointless because if he trained with anyone good like I did, he won't accept calling me anything that's not formal.

"Do you know a nice restaurant nearby? Maybe some place quiet and secluded? Somewhere we might not be recognized or approached? And somewhere that won't require reservations or have much of a wait." I ask, my plan formulating on the go.

"I know just the place sir. Would you like me to drive you there now?"

"Yes please, how long will it take to get there from here?"

"5 or so minutes sir. I will start heading that way now.

"Thank you." I'm ready for a relaxed evening with Niall even if he isn't ready to accept me; I'm ready to accept him. Hopefully this will work.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I pull out the chair and have Niall sit down, before taking my seat at this beautiful restaurant. There are lush red booths and deep red velvet curtains hanging from the 10-foot ceilings. Each table has a long white tablecloth and a vase of red and white roses in the center. The place is pristine and quiet. It's typical of a fancy Italian restaurant. We were seated in a semi secluded corner per my request and rather quickly. I could tell the hostess recognized Niall but didn't say anything. We are handed menus, told to enjoy our meal, and left alone.

Niall is still in his daze, his hands are on the table, and his eyes have become glossy. It hurts to see him this way, so I reach across the table and grasp his hand. I rub soothing circles onto the top of his hand while I hold it tight, but not too tight. This pulls him out of the reverie and gets him to look at me. A tear drops from his eye as I give him a small smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. I reach over and wipe the tear from under his eye and get a gentle smile back.

For the first few minutes we just sit and smile at each other and I feel content with that. He just needs time to detox and relax. And I'm more than happy to provide that for him.

"Thanks, I just needed a minute." His voice is slightly shaky but I know not to point that out and embarrass him now.

Before I can respond, we have a waiter coming over to see if we're ready to order. "What would you gentlemen like to drink this evening?"

Niall looks to me, so I order for us both. "My boyfriend and I will each have a glass of your chardonnay and a glass of ice water." I inform the waiter with a small smile. I smirk at his shocked expression at the word boyfriend and wait a minute before he walks away telling us it will be a minute or so before he's back. Niall and I take this time to decide what to eat.

The waiter returns and I order once again for the two of us, getting us both a salad as an appetizer and a bowl of spaghetti with meatballs for myself and a bowl of chicken alfredo for Niall. He has yet to speak, but I know he's probably still processing. As the waiter leaves once again, I sip my chardonnay and wait for Niall to be ready to talk.

Five minutes go by. Then Niall speaks. " I'm sorry for that back there, my dad and me aren't exactly on good terms. I never told him I was gay, but I figured he got the message when I never brought any girls home." Niall tries adding a chuckle at the end but I can tell he's still uncomfortable.

"That's okay. Why don't we spend this lovely meal getting to know each other some more? Maybe then it'll be easier to live together?" I ask, knowing Niall will agree. "Let's start with some basic stuff. What's your favorite color?"

"Really? Okay my favorite color is blue. How about you?"

"Red, like burgundy, I guess."

"What's your favorite movie? Mine is kind of cheesy. But I really like The Fault In Our Stars. Something about it just calls to me. Oh god, that was probably even more cheesy." He covers his face with his hands, rubbing them down his face.

I smile at this- happy he's opening up some. "I like Insurgent a lot. I guess we both have an affinity for Shaliene Woodley. What's your favorite sport?"

"Football all the way. I'm a massive Derby fan, if you don't like Derby we can't be friends."

"I like football too, but I prefer to play it more than watch it, do you like to play?"

"Yeah, but my knee is utter s.hit so sometimes it's really hard to play. I'm still doing physical therapy a year after I had surgery on the damn thing. Still isn't like what it was when I was a kid. I miss playing though."

"Maybe we'll play an easy match then sometime, how'd you hurt your knee?"

"Car accident. My dad was driving us home from a football match. An 18-wheeler rammed into my side of the car. The knee got all messed up. And it hasn't been the same since."

"I'm sorry about that." I tell him- genuinely upset he lost his dream. "Did Derby win the match you'd gone to?"

"Nah, it had been one of my own games. We'd just barely won. It was the last match I'd ever played. I tried to get back out on the field after that, but never could quite kick very well, or run very fast after that." He tells me, I can tell the memory brings him down but in a way also cheers him up.

We spend the rest of the evening discussing lighter subjects and before long; we are walking out, my arm wrapped around Niall to warm him up as we wait for the car to pull up. Niall's like an onion, a bunch of layers are there that I'd never thought possible. Maybe this won't be so bad.