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It was Friday afternoon and I was sitting in my regular seat for today's art class. I had my headphones pressed into my ears, waiting for my teacher to arrive. On the board she had left a message, saying she might be a few minutes late.
The dark haired boy stepped in, wearing a black and white baseball shirt along with black, skinny jeans. He had his notepad under his arm and was scrolling around on his phone with his other hand.
Zayn was hot, no doubt about it. To me he was this mysterious guy that doesn't talk to many people. He was reserved, but it's almost been two months since our classes started. Sooner or later he has to start talking to me.
As usual he sat down next to me, opening his notepad that was filled with drawings. He is really talented, but he likes to do his own thing. Whenever our teacher tells us what to draw, he decides to draw something else, something he wants to draw. Him failing this class wasn't that big of a surprise really.
"Where did you grow up?" I blurt out, probably talking loud because of my headphones. I pulled out one of them, looking at him.
"Bradford, England." He shortly answered without looking up from his drawings.
"How come you moved to America?"
He looked up.
"I wanted to study art and America have the best art programmes and educations."
"Did you knew anyone over here?"
He's finally talking to me
"Not really. But I had some contact with Liam over the Internet, and he encouraged me to apply since he had already done it."
"So basically you moved across the ocean to draw actions figures?" I said with an amusing tone, glancing at his notepad.
He smiled a little. "I guess you could say that. Can I see some of your drawings?"
"They're a bit weird." I said, leaning down to pull them out from my bag. "Only people with an eye for art can understand them."
I gave a notepad to him and he looked through the pages.
"These are amazing, Sam."
I was a bit surprised he actually knew my name. And I was also surprised that Maya had said that Zayn Malik was someone I should stay away from – along with the other British boys, because honestly I couldn't see anything bad about Zayn. He seemed to be down to earth and be more like Harry than the other "bad boys". But on the other hand, Harry is slowly falling into that category too.
Our teacher dismissed class and Zayn – as usual – was the first one to leave. I gathered my things and said goodbye to a few of my classmates before heading out the door. The hallway outside wasn't as crowded as I expected it to be, so without any problems I started making my way towards my dorm. Then two hands gripped onto my waist, and a pair of lips touched my ear.
I spun around and faced a grinning Niall.
"Are your parents still not so fond of the idea of you seeing me?"
"They don't like the idea of me seeing anyone." I told him, pressing my books harder against my chest. "So you can drop the little nickname you have for me."
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Crush Him || n.hFanfiction
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