Chapter 2: The Pool House
It was like a block party when Zayn made his way downstairs. It felt as if the entire Birmingham community was in his house for the event. There were people with wine glasses, chatter louder than a sold out concert, the smell of delicious food and absolutely no space to walk through.
Zayn squeezed through the body of people, looking for his mother or father to see which one of them said it was okay for four complete strangers to lounge inside of his room while he was just getting out of the shower! If it was any guess, Zayn knew that it was his mother. She was never a woman of boundaries. One time(or the one time he caught her), Tricia had stalked Zayn to the park to meet up with his ex-girlfriend which whom he shared his first kiss with. If he hadn’t kept his eyes opened, he would never have seen Tricia ten yards away, a binoculars covering the half of her face. Her excuse when Zayn confronted her was that it was every mother’s legal right to witness their child’s first kiss. Needless to say, it scared his ex-girlfriend off the following day.
The kitchen was the most packed in the entire house. Everyone gathered around the display of food, Zayn knew his mother wasn’t wonder woman from the array of different styles of food lined across every counter of the kitchen, so he assumed that the neighbors brought with them dishes to be eaten as well. There was a loud clamber of voices when more people arrived in the kitchen carrying more food and desserts. They all jeered and hugged each other, getting in the flow of things.
Zayn however felt like a fish out of water. He needed to find at least one of his parents. And fast.
“Can I have everyone’s attention.”
Zayn’s head immediately followed the familiar voice over the racket of noise.
A moment later the noise died down. His mother stood five steps up the staircase with a full glass of red wine in her hand. By the look of it, she was passed happy hour and Zayn couldn’t help but crack a smile. She was really happy here.
“Can my husband and son come up here please!” She placed a hand on her forehead, surveying the room. She jumped and waved when she saw me.
I tried to hide in the crowd, but there were people cheering for me towards my mother. Sulkily, I followed their wishes. When I stepped near my mother, my father followed after, taking her right side. Thankfully, he took the glass away from my mother and tapped her nose saying no. It got the entire house roaring.
She groaned like an errant child, then smiled to the crowd, wrapping both my father and I around the waist.
“My name is Tricia Malik,” she began. “My son Zayn Malik---” she rubbed a small circle on my lower back, “and my wonderful husband Yasir Malik. We would like to thank each and every one of you who came here tonight. Really I wasn’t expecting this much of you but I’m ecstatic from the outcome.
“You know, when we lived in Bradford our family didn’t really have much interaction with other people beside ourselves. We worked hard through the day and came together at a family at night.” Someone in the crowd yelled ‘incest!’ I turned bright red.
The house erupted into another fit of giggles.
My mother joined in. “I know, I know, I’m blessed to be surrounded by gorgeous men.” She grabbed both my cheek and my father’s, pinching them hard. “However, we are not that kind of family.” She recovered quickly, keeping the crowd’s attention without seeming passive. “I would just like to continue on saying that we weren’t quite popular back in our old town. My son was even bullied at his old school.”
I tried not to glare at her or become completely infuriated but I couldn’t help myself.
She continued.
“He’d come home every night with bruises and cuts on his face, and every time I asked him where he got them, he said it was just from an intense game of football. But I knew the truth and didn’t want to pressure him into coming clean so I let it go.
“That is why I think of our move to this wonderful, fabulous neighborhood---” she got a round of hooting from the crowd, “as being such a blessing for my family and I. From the time I spent here, I found this enigmatic, livening city to be diverse and accepting. This is our chance for change and a new beginning. And why not start it off with good food, great wine,” she nudged my father for her glass. He willingly obliged.
My mother took a long swig.
“---and of course, amazingly entertaining company.” She raised her glass. “To family and friends!”
“To family and friends,” the crowd cheered.
It wasn’t neuroscience to see that she won the crowd.
After the crowd dispersed back around the kitchen, back patio near the pool, I said hello to a couple of people who came up to me, saying that they never would have known that I was bullied. I needed to remind myself to give my mother a good lecture about personal information, and to keep said information from becoming public.
I nibbled at the buffet line. The food was really good. However, when I reached for a bottle of wine left on the counter table, my mother, obviously with her spiderman senses, plucked it from my fingers, shaking her head. She kissed my cheek before turning in a graceful movement, walking back to a group of women that smiled and blushed at me.
I waved two fingers their way and leaned against the counter. What did a seventeen-year-old boy need to do to get his hands on some good liquor?
I glanced around the kitchen for more unattended bottles or even glasses. I was desperate for that all too familiar numbing feeling. My fake ID was in my wallet upstairs but I’m sure the street was jam packed with cars that would make it impossible to maneuver out of.
Calling it a night, I groaned inwardly and made my way upstairs.
“Don’t think you’re gonna get away from us that easily,” and I groaned, realizing the sound of the voice. It hasn’t even been a full month since I heard it and annoyingly imprinted itself into my head. When was the green-eyed giant ever going to succumb?
I turned to him, a large grin on his face.
“The pool house,” he motioned his head towards the back door, “you got the key?”
“No---” Harry the giant groaned dramatically, “but I know where it’s at.”
His face automatically brightened.
“Cool.”
“Why are you asking?” I asked, feeling a little suspicious. If he really thought I was easy---or gay enough to have a one-night stand inside a cliche, pool house no less, he was mistaken.
His thick eyebrows bounced.
“I snuck some liquor from my parent’s cabinet and---.”
“I’m in,” Zayn agreed before giving Harry time to finish. “What did you bring?”
“A couple bottles of vodka and some high-end whiskey.”
Zayn wanted to cry when he heard those two lovely words. High-end. It was the expensive stuff that he could barely afford back home. The one time he had a chance to take a shot of it was when his parent’s were away and the lock to their liquor cabinet was open. It was sad to admit, even to himself, that one shot of the high-end liquid gold and he swore to this day that he built a spaceship and had flown to the moon.
Zayn led the way to the pool house. He took the key out of a small frog-sculpture fountain hanging near the entrance. He unlocked the door and walked inside.
When they moved, the house was well furnished. They put most of their old stuff in storage, keeping some of their more valuable, family heirlooms and old antiques around the house. As Zayn went to close the door, Harry’s sassy friend stopped it, then strolled into the room with his nose in the air. Even the two other boys, Niall and Liam ran through the door and even though Zayn wanted to get drunk, he really wanted to do it alone. Harry, the green-eyed giant was just defaulted to join because he was the one supplying.
The boys scattered around the room just like they had in Zayn’s room. There was a bed in the far right corner, doors leading to a closet and bathroom and a large seating area strewn with tan L-shaped couches. Also, a television was hammered to the wall, a large flat screen TV.
“Not bad but my pool house is more prettier,” Louis said, sitting down next to Harry on the couch, his arms folded.
The Irish and the puppy-eyed looking one took the couch on the opposite side of Louis and Harry.
“Who invited the nerds to this private party?” Louis remarked, grabbing a cup that Harry had just poured vodka into. “Shouldn’t you be studying or jacking off to your porn magazines?”
Niall and Liam both blushed, already standing.
“Oi,” Harry said. “Sit down.” They sat. Hm, the giant with the colossal heart of gold, Zayn thought to himself. “Stop being such a wanker, Lou. We’re here to have fun.”
Harry glanced to the boys and smiled.
“Plus I have no idea how to do Grimly’s homework.” Ah, motive. “Mind giving me a little help with that stuff?”
“Sure,” they said in unison.
Harry poured four more glasses and handed them around. Neither sitting near the giant and his friend, or the Irish and puppy, Zayn took the couch on the opposite end. He took a nice swig of vodka, feeling the heat of his first gulp burn his throat.
“What you go there for?” Harry said after taking a gulp of his drink. “Come. Socialize. Have fun.”
“Hazza,” he squeaked. “You keep forgetting, no human interaction.”
“Was it true?”
Zayn looked around the room and stopped on a pair of large, brown eyes.
“What?”
“Was it true what your mother said?” he asked, again. He held his drink with both hands, fingers lacing together and then pulling back apart.
Zayn didn’t respond. He forced himself to drink the cup to its entirety and shook it in front of Harry’s face for a refill. Harry poured another drink and Zayn went back to his seat away from them.
“No comment,” Zayn replied.
“Guess that answers it,” remarked Louis.
“You don’t seem like that kind of person,” the Irish, Niall said. He was Irish for a reason. He had tanked his cup as well, going on round two.
“Yeah, and what type of person am I?” Zayn fumed.
“Kinda like the one that does the bullying,” the blonde-haired boy answered.
“Typical,” Zayn held the cup near his lips, taking a sip. “Everyone obviously assumes that the mysterious, dark-haired boy with tattoos and Elvis Presley hair is immediately labeled the bad guy. Sorry to disappoint.”
“I didn’t mean to get you upset,” Niall apologized in a soft voice.
“Yeah, but you did.”
“Well, this conversation is turning for the worse,” added Louis.
“Agreed,” said Harry.
“Who’s up for a little game?”
“If you’re gonna say spin the bottle, I’m kicking you all out and keeping the liquor for myself,” said Zayn. “What are we, in middle school?”
“Not yet,” Louis grinned a toothy smile. “Maybe after a few more cups,” he shook his. “I mean, since you’re new in town, we can better understand you better with a little game of Truth or Dare. Who’s in?”
“I’m in,” said Niall.
“Me too,” Liam agreed.
“Same,” added Harry.
“Pass,” Zayn said, sipping his drink. “You guys go ahead and have a good time while I drink the night away.”
“Come on, mate,” Liam urged. “It’ll give us a chance to know you better.”
“So, what?” Zayn’s eyebrows knitted together. “So you can use it against me Monday at school?” His voice was hot, just like his rising temperature from the clear liquid. “So I can come walking into class one day, everyone staring at me like I’m Bozo the Clown himself! No. You guys go around sharing secrets. I’m fine.”
“We’re not that kind of people,” Harry assured, his green eyes shining.
“Yeah,” Zayn scoffed, “and how would I know that?”
Harry sighed, dropping his head, his curls falling in the air.
“Alright, you want to play that game, I get ya.” He looked back at Zayn. “Guess me and the lads’ll earn your trust by playing a game of My Dirty Little Secret before we really get the ball rollin’. Everyone cool with that?”
They looked at one another before looking at me then smiling. Louis, however just rolled his eyes. “I guess so,” he said sarcastically, bouncing his leg across the other.
“Cool,” Harry grinned. “Who wants to go first?”
“I think it’s only fair to do it seniority style,” Liam favored.
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
Louis scoffed. “Whatever.”
“That means Harry you’re first, then me, Niall and Louis.”
“How do you even know that?” Louis eyed. “You some kind of stalker or something?”
“We’ve lived together on this street since we were born, genius,” said Harry. “Now, lets get the dice rolling. My Dirty Little Secret is that I’m---,” he paused, searching for something inside of his head.
Harry sighed.
“My Dirty Little Secret is that I’m a firm believer in exploring one’s sexuality.”
“Meaning?” chimed Louis.
“Meaning he’s promiscuous to more than one gender, in latent terms, he’s bisexual,” Liam added. “We kinda knew that since, like, the first grade when you were caught kissing the Finley twins on the jungle gym.
“Didn’t take me to lunch to figure that out either,” Zayn chuckled.
Harry exhaled. “There. Next.”
Everyone looked at Liam and he took a swig of courage, his lips puckering up from the bitter, hot taste.
“My Dirty Little Secret is kinda embarrassing, but for my sixteenth birthday, you guys might have remembered getting the invitations at school, absolutely no one but me and my parents showed. It was humiliating.”
“No one?” Zayn asked, intrigued.
The brown-eyed boy said nope, making a popping sound on the ‘p.’
“Are you sure you invited me?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, mate, where was I?”
“Everyone from our class was invited, but Mary Humphrey---.”
“The girl you asked out twenty two times and every time she told you no?”
Liam hung his head.
“Yeah, that one.” He looked up, his eyes a little watery. “She found out that I was making a birthday party, but for spite, she invited everyone to a party at her place, ergo, no guests for my party. And Niall, you went back to visit your family because your grandmother had passed.
“But, there it is. My Dirty Little Secret that I’ve kept to myself.”
Niall patted Liam on the shoulder. He drank a few sips.
“It’s my turn,” he rubbed a finger on the bottom of his lip. “Me Dirty Little Secret is me mum caught me rubbing one out.” Niall tried saying it with a straight face, but his permanent blush betrayed him.
The pool house exploded in loud laughter.
“Classic,” Louis bellowed.
“What did you do?” Liam said, his cheeks lighting up.
“Told her it was an assignment for Health class.” And again, uncontrollable laughter. Even Zayn choked on his vodka, holding his stomach from exploding with fits of giggles.
“Alrigh’, alrigh’, next sucker. Louis,” he motioned with his hand. “Your turn.”
Louis took a moment to stop himself from laughing. Before he continued, he moved a misplaced strand of hair from off his forehead. Again, he bounced his leg against the other.
“Ah, here,” he spoke. “My Dirty Little Secret is I’ve never gotten a nose job.”
“Boo!” Harry bellowed. “Lame cop out! That’s not even a secret.”
“Harry’s right,” added Liam. “It’s a statement.”
“Statement-sfatement.”
“Come on, Lou,” Harry nudged his best friend. “You say it or so help me.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Louis growled.
Harry shrugged his shoulder, smiling.
“Ugh, fine.” Harry looked around the room. “My Dirty Little Secret is that I lost my virginity to my babysitter Brad.”
The room went silent.
Harry was the first to crack and he rolled around the chair, holding in his stomach. The other boys followed. Even Zayn couldn’t help but shake from uncontrollable laughter.
“That never gets old!” Harry squealed with laughter.
“Oh, shut up, Hazza!” Louis pushed him away. He took a long sip and moved on to his second cup. “I’m glad that my deflowering is the crowd favorite.”
“How old was he?” Zayn asked, controlling his laughter.
Louis looked at him. “Who, Brad? He was twenty two,” he confessed. “I was eleven.”
The room fell silent again, but for a different purpose. The air was suddenly thick.
Harry’s face twisted in confusion. “You said that you were sixteen?”
“Well, there’s another little secret. I lied.” Louis’s nervous leg twitching picked up and he looked in his empty cup. “He did it so I would stop crying. Needless to say, I cried more but to him, the tears were actually tears of joy.”
He nodded his head slowly, keeping his voice strong.
“Now someone knows my secret behind a secret.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, but he shimmied out of it and sighed.
“I don’t need anyone’s pity. It’s the past. It’s done with. I’m fine.”
“We’re sorry, mate,” said Liam and Niall together.
Zayn took a different approach. He placed his cup on the coffee table and lunged for Louis, who he sent flailing into the couch. Zayn didn’t know whether to believe it was the alcohol that caused his spastic turn of events but he hugged Louis tight, never letting go even when he fought weakly against it, but then, giving in.
Louis sobbed softly.
“Guess someone’s found his way of coping with human interaction,” Louis chimed, his usual strong voice, a little quivery.
Zayn got off of Louis, grabbing his cup and sitting right in the middle of Louis and Harry. He kept a protective arm around Louis’s.
Taking a sip, Zayn spoke.
“My Dirty Little Secret,” he began. “is that I’m afraid of letting anyone in. My entire life has been a series of getting beaten, being constantly tyrannized by everyone around me and for being treated as if I had a choice in the matter of being me.”
Zayn sighed.
“I don’t let anyone in because I’m afraid that they’ll just use my weaknesses against me and treat me like a half-breed.”
“What’s a half-breed?” Liam asked.
“It’s what the kids at my old school used to call me. I don’t like making friends because they never last long for me. Once I’m myself around them, they hate me for it.”
Louis rested his head against Zayn’s shoulder. It was a shock for Zayn to see how well he seemed to . . . fit with these group of people. Maybe until the alcohol wore down, he thought.
“Now, who’s up for some spin the bottle action?” Harry grin widely.
Louis reached around, giving him a smack on the back of the head.
“It’ll be more simpler just for each one of us to kiss the other at least once,” Liam added. “There’s really no sense in the matter. Spin the bottle is all about a game of probability. Just deflate the odds, kiss everybody and lets call it a night. My head feels a little funny.”
“We have a weak sauce in the bunch,” Niall puffed out his chest. He hit his chest like an ape. “As for the Irish man, he’ll go all night!”
“I’m with Liam,” Zayn said.
The boys eyes went wide.
“On getting you the hell out of here!” Zayn cleared. “Up, up, up. Out, out, out.”
They slapped their knees as if they lost something.
“And here I was ready to put on my chapstick,” Harry chuckled lightly.
“If we leave now, will you give me a goodbye kiss?” asked Liam, blushing slightly.
“He means ‘us’,” Niall burped. “It’s only fair.”
Zayn shook his head, grinning.
“I have a feeling Harry’s not the only ‘firm believer in exploring one’s sexuality’. You know, even if I were part of the in crowd and invited to blowout parties back in my old town, I’d have been beaten the crap out of for less!”
“You’re not in the 18th Century anymore,” Liam smiled a toothy grin. “Welcome to the 21st Century. And to my lips,” he puckered his lips, closing his eyes.
Niall smashed a hand on Liam’s lips, sending him back into the sofa.
“I say we have a drinking competition to see who gets to kiss Zayn first.” Niall looked Zayn’s way, his lips pulling over his ultra white teeth. “Guess it’s in the bag.”
“How about no,” Zayn declined, feeling his head turn a bit. There was no mistake. He was plastered. As were the rest of the boys.
“If we up the stakes to seven minutes in heaven with Zayn, I’ll blow your ass all the way back to Ireland, mate.” Harry tried resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder, but he playfully pushed him off.
Louis reached for his cup and took a sip.
“Well, what can we do now?” Liam slurred, then hiccuped.
“You guys can go home,” Zayn smiled.
“Besides that.”
“Hey!” Niall said, a little too excitedly. “We can have a jam session if anyone is willing to go upstairs to grab Zayn’s guitar? Or if that’s not the case, down the street to my house.”
Niall looked to Zayn.
“Is it true what Mrs. Granger said, that you’re a prodigy on the strings?”
Zayn immediately blushed. He wouldn’t have called himself a prodigy. How did that even end up on his transcript? Mr. Oslo, Zayn’s previous music teacher hated his guts.
“I’m alright,” he decided to answer. When really, he was The Rolling Stones worthy.
“Then lets do it,” Niall said cheerfully. “Some good booze and good music! Now we’re talkin’!”
It was Zayn who was opted to grab his guitar from his room. Niall had been willing to go but everyone thought it would be strange for him to grab something of Zayn’s and not get yelled at for it. And really, all they needed were their parents to find out they were drinking and be grounded until the end of time.
Zayn’s thought process was he would dash for his bedroom, grab the guitar and be back in the pool house in record speed. He didn’t calculate it right because as soon as he stood, his vision turned blurry and his feet were wobbly.
Getting upstairs was the hardest part, until he needed to carry his guitar downstairs. At first he thought about just forgetting the jam session, then he thought if he just rolled his guitar on the staircase and closed his eyes, maybe it wouldn’t make noise or cause collateral damage. All in all, Zayn favored in looking like a drunken idiot, holding up an even drunker friend as he descended the staircase, being met by two pairs of unhappy faces.
Zayn glanced up, looking into his mother and father’s eyes.
As soon as he started to talk though, his mother bursted out laughing. Too much giggle juice for one night.
“Seeing that your mother is completely inebriated and soon to be comatose, we’ll deal with this talk later,” Yasir said authoritatively. Then when passing his son, he tousled his son’s hair. “But what your mother doesn’t know---or won’t remember, won’t kill her.”
They smiled at each other. Zayn walked back to the pool house, guitar in hand and unscathed.
Niall began first, playing a rendition of ballads from The Eagles. He even had a nice pair of chops to him. Everyone lounged on the chairs while Niall continued to serenade with his smooth, really tantalizing voice.
When he was done, he handed the guitar to Zayn. At first, Zayn looked at it as if it were a foreign object but Niall insisted, shoving the instrument onto Zayn’s lap.
Zayn sighed, registering the easiest songs he knew how to play, so, he wouldn’t look like much of a fool trying to play the guitar drunk. He settled for Happy Birthday, which went well for the boys for a moment, but then complained about wanting to hear a real song. After all, Zayn was the prodigy, which they had all gloated to him about all evening.
“Okay, fine,” he groaned. Strumming a few chords, he played the opening to a moody, very dark song. It was a song by Thrice called The Lion and The Wolf. The boys hushed when Zayn began. He continued to sing the song in a low, melancholy tone and by the end, everyone clapped, including Louis who had found refuge on the king bed, looking completely wiped out.
“That was bloody brilliant,” Niall grinned. “Bloody brilliant.”
“Sing another one,” Liam rushed. He still sat in the exact same spot he was when they first got to the pool house. Zayn had taken full residency on the seat next to Harry.
Harry leaned his elbow on the back of the couch, looking directly at Zayn.
“Well, go on.”
Zayn searched through the music collection inside of his head and began a more cheeky song from the last. It was his own rendition of Mario’s, Let Me Love You. There was another round of applause when the song ended, and Zayn felt so good, he began asking for requests. But only if they would help accompany him or possibly try and sing the song themselves while he played.
As the night went on, Zayn realized that all the boys had pretty nice voices. It was the very first time he played in front of people his own age, or even sang for that matter. He spent most of his practices and playing alone, and the occasional impromptu performances for his parents. He never felt this comfortable playing in front of people.
It must have been the amount of alcohol he consumed.
Zayn handed the guitar back to Niall when his head started pounding. He scooted across the couch to the armrest, after countless minutes being swindled by Harry to use his lap as the armrest. Zayn was against it. And so were the other boys. That if Zayn couldn’t rest his head in their lap, that no one should be able to.
Zayn just grinned, shaking his head.
Maybe he was back on the moon? He was already high off of high-end liquid gold, and for a minute, there were stars in his range of vision.
Sooner though, Zayn shut his eyes, falling asleep to the soft, lolling sounds of Niall as he sang another slow song from The Eagles, accompanied by the slurring voices of the other boys.
Although Zayn would never admit it to anyone, he could get used to this.