Young & Beautiful (Zarry)

Million Dollar Man

-Harry's Point of View-

"Is this formal enough?" Zayn asks, adjusting the black blazer he wore with a black printed t-shirt underneath.

He looks terribly, disgustingly hot but with a face like his, you could wear anything in the world. Seriously, he could wear a burlap sack and be just as sexy. That face could distract anyone. It isn't fair really. I can't think of anything more beautiful. Then again, I think Zayn absolutely naked would be the only thing that trumps that.

I haven't actually seen him fully naked since the day we....you know, and that feels like ages ago. The thing that used to hurt me most is nearly faded. It does make me sad to think about it but with a clear mind I understand Zayn knew as much about gay sex as I did. Which is nothing. I'm as much to blame for the terrible experience. I reckon I should tell him that. I just don't want him thinking it's a green light to shag me right after.

"Harry? Hello? My outfit? Is it okay?" Zayn questions, pulling me from my train of thought, amber eyes alight with amusement.

I shake my head. "Yes, that's fine. Are you sure you're okay with this?"

The thought of too-cool Zayn being around my new social scene makes me nervous. Not that I'm the least bit ashamed of him, I just don't want him causing any kind of commotion. I don't need him scoffing at the rich folk that could be future buyers of my work.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He questions with an innocent tilt of the head.

I raise an eyebrow accusingly.

"If you're afraid of me over reacting when you flirt with everyone and their mum than you you've got nothing to worry about." He murmurs, rolling up the sleeves of his blazer, revealing colorful tattoos etched on his skin like a proper piece of artwork.

"Grimshaw will be there." I tell him absently, looking at his chest instead of his face.

I dare to look up and see that little frown on Zayn's face that makes him look like a kid who's been told he can't have dessert. He pretends to adjust the cuff of his jacket to avoid my gaze.

"You're out of his league and he's too old." He huffs.

"And he's my mate so you'd better be cordial." I chuckle.

I slip on my own outfit for the event, some slacks, a white Burberry button down with a gray jacket over it. Just as I'm buckling my brown belt Zayn presses a lingering kiss on my cheek. I stiffen automatically, the butterflies multiplying in my belly in excitement.

It's been too long since Zayn and I have done anything romantic. There was that kiss in his car the night he took me home when I was drunk but that doesn't really count. Still, my cheek burns where he kissed me.

"What was that for?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"You just look really good s'all."

"So do you." I nod.

As if someone presses the fast forward button, we're already at the cocktail party. It's funny but Zayn blends in easily with the models here. I introduce him to as many people as I can. He stays polite although not showing much interest. He brushes off any flirtation from people and gives short responses to any questions fired at him.

We're sipping cocktails while I point out some new people to him when I notice someone familiar entering the glass doors of the hall.

When Grimmy arrives we all hear him before we see him.

It's like the popular jock in highschool that high-fives people and throws cheeky winks as he waltzes down the hall. Nick knows everyone and people are so eager for him to notice them.