Chapter Two – Skylar
“Mmh, really?” I asked Trinity, really only half-interested in what she had to say. She was going on about One Direction—not that I was surprised, they were basically her life—while I was concentrating on restocking the sketchbooks correctly. According to Louis, they had to be in the absolute correct spot, or else something bad could happen. I didn’t necessarily see what harm could come from a few unorganized books, but hey, he was the international pop star.
Who was I to judge?
I still hadn’t told Trinity about my little five-minute meet-and-greet with him. Not only would she have murdered me (I did meet her idol and had forgotten to get a picture or an autograph, after all), but she also would’ve been extremely jealous. And trust me, jealous Trinity is not an enjoyable Trinity.
Not in the slightest.
“—and I figured, hey, if they’ve been seen out in this area often, it wouldn’t hurt if I hung out around Starbucks. That’s where they always go—”
“Louis actually isn’t that big of a fan of Starbucks,” I informed her absentmindedly, eyes scanning over the books that I had moved around. The aisle was a lot more orderly now.
“How do you know?”
“Hmm?” I hummed out, running a hand through my hair. Nervous habit.
I couldn’t very well spill that I had chatted with the one and only Louis Tomlinson, now could I? Not after keeping it a secret for this long. “I don’t. I’m guessing. You said he likes tea, and I assumed…” I trailed off, shrugging my shoulders before tilting my head. “So you didn’t visit my job just to see me. Knew it.”
Wearing a sheepish grin, Trinity let her gaze fall to the floor, completely taking the bait for the subject change. “Well it is nice to see you and all,” she wrinkled her nose, “but I kind of do see you a lot at home.”
“My face isn’t pleasant enough for you to look at all day, I get it,” I joked, a soft smirk setting on my lips. “Well, I haven’t taken a lunch break yet, and it’s almost noon, now. Shall we?”
Trinity raised her head to answer, but instead of words tumbling out, her hazel eyes widened, jaw falling slack as she hit my arm repeatedly. “Do you see that?” She hissed, still staring over my shoulder. “Oh my Lord. Somebody hold me.”
“What?” I asked, pushing her back off of me enough to spin around. As I did, my breath caught as I met a pair of familiar, smiling blue eyes.
“Skylar!”
“He knows your name?” Trinity gasped out, falling limp onto my side once more as Louis strolled over, hands locked on the bicep of a boy that was being dragged along behind him. “I wish I had a nametag right now. Did you hear how he said it? Skylar,” she mocked, eyes still wide and breath still coming in short pants, “It’s perfect.”
Louis stopped in front of us, releasing his grip on the boy that was behind him. He was standing directly behind Louis, so I couldn’t see much of him, but I did see a hint of olive skin, and a head of raven hair.
So I’m guessing that it was Zayn.
“I like your hair down better,” Louis nodded approvingly, dragging his eyes over my figure before nodding. He looked over my shoulder at the newly organized sketchbooks and smirked. “Took my advice then?”
Trinity (who had been hitting my arm and gasping ‘Is this real life?’ the whole time) now shot me an accusatory glare, her brown eyes not looking as warm as they had moments before. “You’ve met him before and didn’t tell me!”
I frowned, rubbing my arm where she had punched me, and bit my lip. “It was Friday, alright? I was too happy about the weekend and not having any classes that—”
“—you completely forgot to mention to your best friend that you met one of her idols, right,” she snorted, before turning her eyes back to Louis, the grin that had faded already coming back onto her lips. “Hi, I’m Trinity. I’m Skylar’s roommate. Huge fan!”
Louis looked at me with guarded and alarmed eyes. Having been around many before, he could probably tell that Trinity was a… Superfan.
Serves him right, I thought to myself. He had gotten me in trouble. Maybe he deserved a little torture.
With that thought in mind, I asked him, “New sketchbook?”
When he nodded, I dragged Zayn out from behind him, leaving him cornered with excited gurgles already coming out of Trinity’s mouth.
Definitely serves him right.
Karma; a dish best served Trinity.
“So, same one?” I asked, my hand falling around the curve of Zayn’s bicep, in much the same fashion that Louis’ had. Zayn was surprisingly fit (in my mind, I didn’t believe that he had a lot of free time, and when he did, I assumed he drew, so I wasn’t expecting a lot of muscle), and I walked us down the aisle like I had with his bandmate just days prior.
I wasn’t expecting a response from Zayn—it was to my understanding that he was mute—and I stopped in front of the books, nudging him slightly. “Go on, get it.”
Zayn turned and looked at me, head lolled to the side like he was processing something that he didn’t really want to.
“Zayn follows the same schedule every day,” I remembered Louis telling me. “He doesn’t like to do things that aren’t in his plans. It disrupts him.”
So this was something that wasn’t normal for him. This was something that disrupted him, because he wasn’t used to it, and he didn’t want to process it.
“I don’t even think that he thinks anymore, Skylar. It’s weird.”
Louis had immediately cursed under his breath after saying that, saying something about ‘how he shouldn’t be telling a stranger this’, but I merely dismissed it. From what I had heard, Louis Tomlinson would be one to slightly exaggerate the truth.
I hadn’t realized how honest he was being.
I watched Zayn again, from the corner of my eyes. He was frowning, his gaze wandering up and down the aisle, over and over again. He was counting the tiles.
“I swear, it’s like he almost tries to stop himself from thinking. Anytime he has a spare moment, he’s doing something to consume the empty space.”
“Zayn?” I tried again. “Want to pick up your book?”
I watched as Zayn looked up at me, and squeezed his eyes closed. His hands went to press into his temple, the heel of his palms resting there.
It literally hurt him to think. He was really fighting himself so that he wouldn’t think about my question.
I shook my head, grabbing the black-and-white sketchbook and turning to him. I took his hands down from his face, and placed the book in his grasp.
Zayn stared back at me, though he didn’t release his hold on the book, which I took as a success. I took a second to admire how pretty his eyes were, dark lashes framing his lids like a snapshot from a camera.
They were gorgeous. He was gorgeous, actually. Everything about him screamed ‘gorgeous’, besides the blank, far-away look embedded deep within his pupils.
“Zayn!” Louis called, waving us back down they aisle as he and Trinity started to walk up. He flashed Trinity’s phone in front of the boy’s face. “Picture time, alright?”
I only tugged his book from his grasp. “I’ll the take the picture.”
Louis nodded eagerly, pulling Zayn by his elbow until they situated properly.
I looked at the screen of Trinity’s phone, watching as Zayn plastered a smile on his face.
I wasn’t surprised; it was gorgeous. But it was fake.
How long, I wondered, did it take to get that to fit into his schedule? Random run-ins with fans?
After I took the picture, I realized. As I was handing Zayn back his book, a frown etched onto his face, and he let out a low whine that I alone could hear.
He was upset over having to take the picture.
Did the boys realize that that genuinely upset him? Did they realize that this schedule stuff, however it worked, that it actually mattered to him?
Did they realize how far gone their friend really was?
I don’t even think Zayn realized it himself.
All I knew was that I wanted to figure it out.
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