The Last Dance - [A Zarry Fanfiction]

Chapter Two { Joey On Monday's }

The curly haired boy cleared his throat and Zayn jumped a little bit, turning around and looking at the boy awkwardly.

"I bet you have a really big TV, don't you?" The curly haired boy spoke with an excited smile. Those green eyes of his somehow sparkled with a childlike quality, which seemed a little off to Zayn, for what reason was unknown to him.

"I mean, I didn't really see much of your house last night because it was dark and I was kind of dry fucking those little hips of yours." The boy laughed, rolling his eyes at himself, even though Zayn choked. It wasn't even ten past nine in the morning and already curses were already coming thick and fast.

"Please don't be so blunt." Zayn squeaked a little, before blushing at himself for sounding like a teenage girl at the first sight of any type of body contact with a teenage boy.

"But I know you've got lots of money. You can always tell if a guy's got a lot of money or not." The boy continued, rolling onto his back and looking at the ceiling. Zayn's words barely seemed to reach the kid's ears.

"I bet you have Sky, you look like a guy who could afford Sky TV." The man spoke again, rolling over once again so he was back in his original position, those toxic green eyes staring into Zayn's soul once again.

Zayn looked over his face and had never felt so stared at in his life. He could sit and make presentations at work in front of boardrooms of important people, yet saying even a slight greeting in front of an incredibly good looking guy he'd woken up too after sleeping with was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

"Who are you?" Zayn blurted out, pulling his knees to his chest. The boy smirked; his shoulders shrugged a little, every muscle movement caught by Zayn's brown eyes.

"Depends." The other boy spoke, a playful smile matching his playful tone. Zayn's eyebrow rose in an act of retort. His hangover was still hanging heavily over him, and he couldn't stand the bluntness and games of whoever his person was.

"How does your name depend on anything?" Zayn blurted out again, his velvet voice coming across more rough and stern then originally intended.

"I'm Joey on Mondays." The boy spoke.

The annoyingly chipper smile never leaving his face was enough to annoy Zayn over his limits. The boy obviously didn't get as drunk as Zayn did, which didn't improve Zayn's mood either. If he had a hangover, everyone should feel as crappy as he.

"Chandler on Tuesdays,"

"Don't even," Zayn started, his mood incredibly pissed off, but the curly haired bloke pushed the limits anyway, ignoring Zayn's warning.

"Ross on Wednesdays."

"They're the characters from Friends!" Zayn burst out, before pushing himself onto his feet and ignoring the heavy feeling of vomit that was slowly creeping up his throat. He crossed his arms and swayed on the spot for a moment, as he scowled down at the curly haired fool in his bed.

Curly simply laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, but my clients don't know that." He replied, his feet swinging in the air as he laid on his stomach on Zayn's bed, the duvet covering his back, and luckily for Zayn, the boy's backside. He didn't want any more reminders that this had ever happened.

"What clients?" Zayn asked, when the thought had finally hit him. Curly's eyes rolled in their sockets, his feet still slowly swaying in the air. He looked like a sixteen-year-old girl.

"My clients. I know I'm not the obvious type of businessman but at the end of the day we all have our own careers." The boy spoke, before he lazily checked out his nails, picking them for a short moment before looking at Zayn. Zayn looked at him for a good five minutes in confusion, before the curly haired boy huffed, not taking his eyes from his nails.