Shape Of You

Chapter 9

"Let's see about that." He groaned, and kissed me on the lips after leaving a purplish mark on my neck, that was sure to bring up some questions tomorrow.

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Standing in front of my mirror, I bit my lip while deciding whether I looked good or like a proper train wreck. Liam wasn't in the flat to help me pick and outfit for tonight, he was at work doing a double shift. I cursed his co-worker for getting sick because I had no idea how badly I looked.

I sent a picture to Harry, asking him if I looked good, but it was useless since he said I always looked good. After he asked me if I was getting ready for the party, he seemed to get upset. His texts seemed shorter and his characteristic 'xx's weren't making an appearance. I realized he was sort of jealous of Zayn, but he didn't have to be. After getting over the inicial shock of how attractive Zayn was, I couldn't see him as more than a friend. Plus, from what he's told me, I could only assume he's as straight as a ruler and I accepted the fact that he could never love me romantically. I didn't care about that anyway, I, sort of, had Harry.

Louis: I'm sorry, I'll make it up to u, I promise

I put my phone down after texting Harry and thought about ways to get myself out of this. Seeing Harry so upset made me feel guilty that I was choosing Zayn over him, but friends should come before boyfriends (or unofficial ones) and I had this planned first, so I really shouldn't feel guilty. I never liked making people upset, which was probably why I was overthinking this whole situation too much. Maybe I really did need a drink.

And as if there was a weird telepathy moment, a knock was heard on the front door and I knew it was Zayn. He told me he was picking me up and I figured it was because he knew I was going to chicken out. I fixed my messy fringe and sighed as I walked to the door and opened it, revealing my black haired friend, who was holding a devious smirk.

"Ready to get smashed?" He grinned.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I smiled nervously. I grabbed my phone, wallet and keys from the table and let Zayn take me away to a night I hopefully wouldn't regret.

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After Zayn parked his car, I shakily got out and followed Zayn around. He told me that before going to the club where the party was being held, we were going to pre-drink in some bars he knew fairly well. I cursed Harry for not telling me the name of the fruity drinks because in every single bar we went, I had to drink shots of bitter and burning alcohol that didn't taste as good as the mixes Harry made me.

Zayn was hyping me up all night. He knew I wasn't really in the mood and he persuaded me to drink shot after shot. I had to loosen up, I had to enjoy myself. And after five drinks down my throat, I started to feel more relaxed. My movements became sloppy and my speech slurred and Zayn decided it was time for us to finally go to the awaited party.

He had to practically drag me by the wrist, so I wouldn't get lost in the crowd of radiant people. The cheers and laughs didn't sound as annoying as they do when I'd come here, completely sober and I found myself joining in. I giggled to myself about anything and everything, and I felt like dancing.

Zayn stopped in his tracks. I wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, I was just following his flow, so that resulted in me knocking into his sturdy back. He didn't even flinch or stumble, which made me realize he was probably stronger than he looked like. I blinked and lazily stared to the club in front of us and glanced at Zayn, who was smirking at the sight, as if he was crazy. What the hell was he doing here at Babylon? Why didn't he tell me he was gay in the first place? What...?