slow it down // zayn malik

chapter three // too close.

"Nobody is going to help some pathetic pretty-boy asshole like the two of you," I remark, glaring at both Zayn and him.

"Oh jesus christ, here we go again!" Zayn shouts as he throws his head back with frustration, making me roll my eyes at how much of a drama queen he is; what else should I have expected? 

Every little thing about him irritates me to no end; his voice, his tattoos, his clothes, his face; everything. He just stands around, thinking everything about him is magnificent. You can tell by the permanent pouted lips on his face. It's as if he's always waiting for someone to snap a picture of him. 

And there's not an inch of me that feels guilty either. He looks at me with the same amount of disgust, as if every single feature of mine repulsed him. The only good thing about him is that we're both on the same page about our amount of hatred. 

And I highly doubt that's ever going to change.

"You're such a hypocrite," Zayn snaps at me, tugging the handcuffs so I'm forced to look at him in the eyes, "You're the one performing here at this big festival. Yet you have the audacity to call me out for being a celebrity," He snarls, curling his upper lip with disgust and anger. 

He starts to get my blood boiling once again, making me feel as if I were about to explode. I place my hands on his chest and give him a hard shove, making him stumble a few feet back before Harry holds his hands out to catch him. 

"Except I've had to work for everything I have. You just had it handed to you on a silver platter just because you're attractive," I shout at him, letting him know that we are far from being similar. There's nothing alike about either of us. 

I turn around, trying to walk away from Zayn, but I can hear his footsteps behind me as he's forced to follow me to avoid any more wrist injuries. 

"You think I'm attractive, huh?" Zayn taunts, a fire behind his tone, letting me know he's only doing this to piss me off even more. 

Embarrassment coats my cheeks as his words hit me, making me wonder where that comment came from anyway. There's nothing about Zayn Malik that I find appealing in any way. He's most certainly not my type. Everything about him repulses me. 

So, in a knee-jerk reaction, I whip around and with my free hand - luckily my dominant hand - I form a fist and connect my knuckles with Zayn's nose. 

It doesn't take longer than two seconds for him to go falling to the ground with a groan of pain. But I hadn't thought very much about my action beforehand and I go falling to the ground with him, stumbling over his long legs clad in his stupid ripped jeans. 

"Hey!" Harry shouts as he dives to the ground, forcing himself inbetween Zayn and I. He turns to give me an extremely angry glare as he protects his friend. 

I can still hear Zayn groaning in pain on the other side of Harry, which brings me quite a lot of satisfaction, actually. 

"Why are you so awful?" Harry raises his voice at me, as he sits far too close to me. 

"Because I'm forced to deal with the two of you!" I shout back, trying to put as much space as possible between the two idiots and I. 

"Trust me, as soon as it's possible, we'll be far, far away from you," Harry snorts as he turns to make sure Zayn is okay. 

Wanting nothing more than to just start beating up the both of them - knowing that I could more than likely take them both - I ball my fists at my side. My attention is pulled away from the two boys who are whispering to one another as I look up to see Sable talking on the phone with Andi standing at her side, trying to listen.