Midnight • (Zayn Malik)

haircuts and mix cd's

I laughed, "I'm just kidding."

He looked up at me with his chin rested in his folded arms on the table.

"You look very pretty with that bun," I bit my lip.

He groaned louder this time before hiding his face in his arms and I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at his reaction. He was finally getting a taste of his own annoying medicine. I was in the middle of sticking my pencil in his bun when the bell rang abruptly, causing me to drop it again. Zain smiled smugly as he gathered his things and stuck his tongue out at me. I rolled my eyes. I shoved my sketchbook into my purse and hurried out of the door to follow behind Zain. I was almost close enough to stick the pencil in when he turned around and started walking backwards.

"Luna do you not see that I literally have eyes on the back of me?" He shook his head and continued to walk backwards.

I tried to fight my smile as I looked over his red crew neck with eyes patterned all over it like polka dots.

"You know I'm actually surprised that you haven't insulted me once today. I could get used to nice Zain," I adjusted my purse as I walked in front of him.

"So you don't find nerd insulting?" He asked.

"Not really. I enjoy my intelligence. But I also know for a fact that I'm not the only one with a super hero lunch box," I smirked.

He stopped walking and I nearly bumped into him, "How did you know about my Batman lunch box?"

"My Spider-man lunch box told me," I grinned cheesily at him and walked past him out of the school doors.

"I'm not even going to tell you about my comic book colle- shit," and I just laughed as I walked to my car.

I didn't realize there was a ridiculous grin on my face until I was already halfway home. What the fuck? I was not seriously smiling because of Zain. Never would I have guessed that we would become friends from the first time I met him. Were we even really friends? I groaned and turned the radio up. We were and I knew it. I was friends with the annoying-sweaty-moronic-asswagonish-goth-monkey-face-boy and I honestly, seriously, completely did not know how I felt about that.

When I pulled up to my obnoxiously large house- that sadly resembled The White House- Lovely Day had just finished playing and I was pumped up with no plans or anywhere to go tonight. Normally I'd be at work but they occasionally gave me days off simply because no one had shown up all day. Thank you Alt-J for making me restless. And I couldn't even blame that on them because I'm pretty sure it was because of someone else.

I walked inside purposely clumping my boots against the flawlessly shiny black marble floor. I couldn't help but roll my eyes every time I walked into my own house. The ridiculous flooring, the unnecessarily big chandelier along with the equally as large staircase that drew your attention automatically. It was too much all of the time. I hated being rich. And I hated that term even more. But I guess financially inclined didn't make it sound any better.

Making no effort to hide my disgust I wandered into our catalog-like kitchen and looked for something to eat. Shoving slices of oranges into my mouth, I slumped into one of the grand chairs at our sparkling glass table that stretched vertically in our dining room area. There was only one lonely half full coffee mug sitting on the table, along with a magazine and I didn't even think twice about it. My mom was probably running about doing who knows what and my father was always at work. He was literally never home. Sometimes I forgot what he looked like. My mom on the other hand, I wish I could forget what she looked like.