Floating in The Water

Chapter 1

The first day of summer vacation is always Liam's least favourite. Most people loved the first day of freedom; loved the fact that their summers spread on in front of them, seemingly endless, just begging to be filled with pointless activities and days spent lounging on the couch in front of a television. Liam resented those people because, unlike them, Liam's summer would be spent working.

The first day is always the worst, too. The most gruelling. First of all, it took a bit to adjust to working so much in the humid heat. By the end of the summer he would have an incredible tan, and his brown hair would turn a shade lighter (if he hadn't buzzed it off a few weeks ago). Secondly, he had to attend the annual employee meeting, which was run by Mr. Malik, his wife, and their son. Not that Zayn actually did anything at these meetings. Or ever, really.

Harry pulls up in front of where he's standing on the sidewalk, still rolling down his window as he yells, "Get in, Payne!"

Liam gives his home one last, forlorn look. He'll see it again at the end of the week, when they're off for the weekend. By then he'll be so exhausted he'll barely make it up the front walk before he collapses, though.

See, part of the job description (which was listed as an employee 'benefit', though Liam knows that is not actually true) of working at Malik Resort is living at the resort during the week. You get the weekend off to relax (or, more accurately, recover) and then you start all over again on Monday.

He often questions why he even bothers working at Malik Resort, but the answer to that is very simple: he needs the money, and he needs a steady, reliable job every summer. During the school year Liam worked just down the street at the bakery with Harry. They only got the occasional shift, though, and that job couldn't be counted on the way the one at the resort could.

Liam throws his duffle bag into the backseat, along with Harry's, and then reluctantly climbs into the rusted green car that Harry's mum helped him buy a year ago, instantly reaching for the air conditioner. "I'll get it," Liam says determinedly.

Harry's car is kind of shit, to be completely honest. They're both aware of that fact. Liam has a way with it, though. He knows that the air conditioner isn't so much broken as it is stubborn. Just a few turns left-- push the button in -- another turn right-- pull, click. The sound of air flowing through the ancient vents fills their ears, and Harry woops loudly.

"How do you always do that?" he asks.

Liam snorts. "Easy. It needs a gentle touch, and you take more of a sledgehammer approach."

Harry doesn't deny this, but he does turn the radio up too loud for them to talk anymore. Liam doesn't mind, because this is kind of a tradition of sorts. Malik Resort is located forty minutes outside of town, and every Monday Harry will come pick Liam up, they'll greet each other as pleasantly as they can that early in the morning, and then they'll spend the rest of the drive listening to whatever shitty songs are playing on the radio or one of Harry's mixed CDs .

The opening bars to Call Me Maybe come on, and Harry looks at Liam, eyebrows drawn together. "I hate this song," he shouts over the first line. "Why are they still playing it?"

Liam shrugs. "To torture us."

Harry nods in agreement and then, a moment later, they're belting along to the song, Harry shaking his head along with it, Liam drumming his fingers on the dashboard. As soon as it ends, Liam coughs awkwardly and Harry says, "That didn't just happen."

"What didn't just happen?" Liam replies, lips quirking up of their own accord.

"Exactly."

By the time they get to the resort, Harry's put in one of his CDs, too frustrated with the constant repeating of the same ten songs, over and over. Liam's glad, because every single one of his favourite artists were introduced to him by Harry.