Amelia Heidari knows her last two years at the University of Toronto matter more than anything shes done before. Her goals for the year include: raising her 3.8 GPA, securing a med-related internship, making her Middle Eastern parents proud, and bec...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I can't believe I said yes.
Inhaling through my nose, I tried to calm the sounds of a raging heartbeat ringing in my ears before slowly letting the air out.
If first-year Amelia had known that she'd be sat in a study room, waiting for the chance to leave and take a 'study break' with Zayn Carter, she would have thrown up. She was all but convinced she'd embarrassed herself into oblivion and that he could never be Ahmed's rebound. But it was happening.
Albeit no longer rebound sex, this was solely to release some of the pent-up stress and frustration that had built over the last couple of weeks. School was kicking my ass, profs making it even harder to get a decent grade with their outrageous grading scales and next to non-existent office hours. And with two midterms, a quiz and an essay due this week, I was ready for a break.
Tapping the green messenger app, I ignored the first three treads of texts before opening the group chat. Ready to tell them I needed the apartment for a couple of hours.
But as my thumbs begin to form the text, my brain processes the images Anna sent hours prior.
Goh muqaddas.
10 pictures and 2 videos of a shirtless Zayn.
Were these the pictures Zayn was asking about?
Pulling the phone closer to my body, I quickly scanned the room to make sure everyone was too preoccupied to notice me gawking at a man who could put Roman Josi to shame.
Scrolling through them, I silently applauded Anna for how bold she'd gotten over the years. There's no way she would have taken these pictures – without at least attempting to hide her camera – in broad daylight a couple of years ago. Not that I'm complaining.
If it meant she'd take more pictures of hot guys, I was all for it. Squashed between the actions shots of Johnny and Zayn running on the football field and laughing with the others, there's another that instantly catches my eye.
Enlarging the image, my mouth goes slack. There's no way someone can look this good pulling their shirt off. The way his biceps flex as he reaches behind his head for the collar of his shirt? Or how the front of his shirt raises to expose the deep ridges of muscle I've been itching to run my hands over again? Absolutely not.
Tapping on his biceps, a prickling sensation runs up my index finger into the palm of my hand. Khodaye man,I can't wait to get under that.
Sneaking a glance at him now, my stomach knots in anticipation. With one headphone in, a look of concentration washes over his features as dark eyes train in on the laptop, nodding periodically to whatever is said. Arms flexing as his long fingers enclose around the pen he stole, veins taunting me as his hand glides across the lined paper.
Rubbing the pads of my fingers against the palm of my hand, trying to get rid of the prickling sensation, I mentally shook my head as I swiped off the picture.
