Strings and Schemes

Chapter 16

Zayn looks at his phone, "Last text was 11 am, but I can't be sure she wasn't drinking then, either."

I purse my lips together, "we started with spiked coffees at 9:30 am." Hiccup.

Harry introjects, "But we could take this back to mine—Gem, what do you think?"

Gemma shakes her head. "Not a chance. The last time you lot showed up at mine past midnight, you almost set fire to my dining table."

"That was Liam," Louis corrects.

Liam raises his hands in surrender, "Tequila was involved."

"I am sensing a theme," I muse.

Zayn leans in, voice lower so only I hear. "What do you want to do?"

I tilt my head toward him, feeling the buzz of the night settle, "Actually, I have an idea."

We stumble into my new apartment like we own the place, which, technically, I do. I flick the lights on, revealing the slightly chaotic state Louis and I left it in earlier—half-unpacked boxes, an empty bottle of tequila on the counter, fairy lights still tangled from when we tried (and failed) to set up a photo wall. And a photo of Zayn and me from our first date, in front of Buckingham palace. Big grins, with a hand thrown out as a stranger took our photo who was too foreign to realize who Zayn was.

Zayn smiles, "You put up a photo of us?" I nod, shyly.

"I love that photo," I whisper quietly.

He smiles warmly, as if to say, me too.

Louis immediately starts raiding my fridge. "What do we have here? Ah—WKDs, classic. And—Rain, what the fuck is this?" He holds up a carton of oat milk like it's personally offended him.

"It's called not being lactose intolerant in denial, Tomlinson."

"Disgusting, and so very American of you!" He hisses like a cat and bats the oat milk. Niall joining in.

I roll my eyes as Gemma and Harry start passing around drinks - ever the bartenders.

Zayn leans against my kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching me with quiet amusement. The magnetism hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Music plays through my speaker—Independence Day, vol 1—and for a while, it's just easy. Drinking, laughing, celebrating. Harry is dramatically twirling Gemma around my living room, Liam and Niall are arguing over whether a toaster is a necessary housewarming gift, and Louis is now wearing my jacket, pretending to be me.

It's chaotic. It's perfect.

But after a while, the exhaustion starts creeping in. The days been long, and I'm barely standing upright. I catch Zayn's eye from across the room, and he seems to read my mind instantly.

Louis suddenly claps his hands, far too dramatically for the hour. "Alright, alright, my beautiful little friend," he announces, tossing his blanket aside. "It is time for us to take our leave, right boys? And Gemma?" Eying everyone knowingly.  "This has been a most excellent Independence Day, but I have a feeling our dear Raina has other celebrations in the fire."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the way my lips twitch into a smirk.

The rest of our friends start gathering their things, saying their goodbyes in that slow, drawn-out way that only happens when no one actually wants to leave. Harry hugs me tightly, whispering, "I haven't seen you like this in - well - ever, I love it."

I never thought I'd be able to say, "our friends", with anyone; so me neither, Styles. Instead I don't say anything.

Liam, lingering longer than necessary, gives me a look—one that speaks of quiet apologies and unspoken conversations for another time.