The Little Black Book of Imagines

Zayn Malik Imagine 32

I change out of sweats and into my jersey knit dress and wedges. With my fingers crossed this morning I decided to wear a new underwear set. Something to boost my confidence, too bad it did nothing for my nerves. The royal blue lace cheeky set from an expensive french line online gave me a shit load of confidence and highlighted my anxiety.

What if tonight goes well? What if it goes horribly wrong? What if he sounds terrible and asks me what I think? Do I lie because I think he's hot and sexy as fuck or do I tell the truth because honesty is the best policy?

My subconscious begins to chant the word lie.

Think of him peeling that expensive lingerie off of you. Even better....ripping it off of you.

I leave my house walking toward the bar. I can see it from my apartment. The giant sign of the name, the 'o' a 'pint of beer', as Niall puts it. His accent is so sexy. It's thick and harsh and turns certain words into dirty innuendos. If it wasn't for his girlfriend I would flirt a hell of a lot harder with him.

I laugh at myself entering the parking lot. Every space taken and the curbs full as well. I don't see Zayn's car but he has to be here already.

I should have remembered his number when he called it out to me my second time seeing him work in the store.

A couple of people from the town over stumble out. The man holding the door trips over his own feet and if not from his companion he would have landed clean on his face.

"Liam, you can't keep drinking like this." She scolds him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, let's go home." He looks at me and smiles, it's creepy and haunting.

"You're completely shitfaced and it's not yet ten." I mean for it to embarrass him but he hust laughs. His girlfriend turns to me and rolls her eyes. "Rude." I murmur.

The place is so packed that I have to sit at the bar. Michael is working it today and I absolutely adore talking to him. He geeks out of the same things that I do.

"Shot first?" He grabs a glass and holds up two different kinds of liquor, "Tequila or vodka?"

"Tequila." I say jumping up on the stool.

"Lime and salt?"

"Yes."

"When does the singing start?"

"In a few minutes." He watches as I lick the salt, tilt my head back and down the shot sucking on the lime immediately after. "Another?"

"I better not." I wipe my mouth with my fingers. "Something fruity while I wait?" I smile.

"Coming up."

He pours some pineapple flavored vodka in a blender with ice and some other things in unlabeled bottles. He pours it into a thin glass with a straw and moves on to the next customer.

A few minutes into my drink and feedback from the mic settles the loud chatter. When I turn to look Zayn is behind the mic.

"Hello everyone." He smiles and everyone answers him back. "Thanks for coming out tonight, I hope you enjoy it." Music starts to play and the song wastes no time with the lyrics. He's singing what has to be an original song; I've never heard it before.

He perfectly sings out the lyrics "I can't keep you from running to him". He looks pained by the lyrics he's reciting but the song sounds perfect.

He grabs the mic with both hands and leans his head into it.

"You took me there, you showed me where..." he pauses slightly and continues, "love died."

It's a song about heartbreak and unfaithful companionship. It's depressing and sad, too sad for a bar, but it sounds too good to deny.