Strings and Schemes

Chapter 22

I should eat.

I should shower.

I should—

A knock at the door.

I freeze.

My pulse kicks up, irrational hope blooming in my chest before I can shove it down.

But when I pull the door open, it's not Zayn.

It's Louis. I almost cry but I am not sure if it's because I need the comfort of Louis, or because I was hoping it would be somebody else. 

Holding two coffee cups, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking far too smug for this early in the day.

"Figured you'd be wallowing," he says, handing me a cup.

I scowl. "You're insinuating I do feelings, Tomlinson?" I scoff.

"Right. And I don't cheat at poker."

I roll my eyes, stepping aside to let him in.

He flops onto my couch like he owns the place. "So. Are we talking about it, or are we pretending you didn't rip your heart out in public and now have no idea what to do about it?"

I sip my coffee. "I'm pretending."

He grins. "Cool. I'll pretend with you. Let's talk about literally anything else."

I exhale, sitting next to him. "Like what?"

Louis smirks. "Like the fact that Liam is apparently on some sort of Mission Impossible side quest to get Zayn to come to poker tonight."

So, not literally anything else. I blink. "Liam?"

"Yeah. He thinks Z just needs a nudge. Or a shove."

I press my lips together.

I don't know what's worse—waiting for Zayn to reach out, or knowing my friends are trying to do it for him. I don't want them to have to do all this work for me, if Zayn wants me, he wants me. I can't beg him and neither can our friends. 

My heart hurts at that word. Our friends. A sinking fear sets in that maybe I won't be able to say that again one day. 

(Zayn's POV)

The poker table is crowded, the air thick with the usual banter and the lingering scent of whiskey. It's familiar, predictable—a world away from the chaos in my head.

Liam deals the cards, his face unreadable as ever, but I know what he's doing. This isn't about poker.

I should've known the second I stepped in. The glances exchanged, the way Louis leaned back in his chair with a smug smirk like he was waiting for a fucking show.

But I came anyway. 

Maybe part of me wanted to be here. Maybe I wanted to hear someone else say it out loud, to push me into a corner so I'd have no choice but to face it.

"You've been quiet," Liam says, shuffling the deck with practiced ease.

I arch a brow. "Just focusing."

"On the game?" Louis snorts. "Or something else?"

Niall grins. "Should we start taking bets on how long it takes for him to crack?"

I shoot him a glare, and he holds his hands up in surrender, but the smirk stays.

Liam deals the cards, giving me a pointed look as he slides mine across the table. "So, how'd you like the exhibit?"

I hesitate. Just enough for them to catch it.

Louis kicks back in his chair, swirling his drink. "I mean, it was art, wasn't it?"