Finley Abbott and Liam Payne were inseparable since they were little kids. Fast forward to 2012- as they finally meet again. This time, Liam and his bandmates are internationally famous and tour worldwide.
Finley thinks she's got all of Liam's mates figured out, all except one. Zayn Malik.


4. breaking glasses.


   "Fin! Finley, over here!" I heard Liam call my name as I strode into the club. It was pounding already, the heavy bass from the music making the whole place vibrate. I looked around wildly, unable to spot him in the crowd of moving bodies.


   "Here, babe," said a husky voice in my ear and I jumped as someone brushed my elbow. Reflexively, it jerked back. "Ow! Jesus..." I looked up in shock to see the green eyes of Harry Styles. Oh wow. I had to admit- he was really something.

   "Oh g- I'm so sorry," I gushed immediately, my hands immediately flying to his lower stomach where I'd struck him. "It was- never mind... sorry..."

   "It's OK," he assured quietly, and as I looked up at him, he was smiling lopsidedly. Somehow, his hands had found mine and were holding them still. "Finley, right? Liam's old friend."

   "Y-yeah," I stammered, dropping my gaze and fixing it on a point straight ahead. Unfortunately, that happened to be his chest. I could only imagine what he'd look like without that shirt on. "You're...Harry?" What a stupid question. We both knew exactly who he was.

   He smirked immediately, which was insanely attractive.

   "Yeah, I'm Harry," he said, still not letting of my hands. "Maybe we should get to know each other better before you start groping me."

   "I'm sorry," I said jerkily, pulling my hands away from his hastily and dropping them at my side.

   "Let's find Liam and the others, eh?" he suggested, placing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me through the crowd. Well he worked fast didn't he? First real conversation we'd had and he'd already accused me of groping him, and managed to work an arm-over-the-shoulder move in there too.

   We found the others and I quickly took a seat next to Liam. Truthfully, he was the only one I felt comfortable around. Old Payno.

   Liam and I sat for most of the night, just talking and catching up. Meanwhile, I watched Niall get smashed, Harry was almost intently watching me, Louis was running around making trouble, whilst Zayn spent the whole time either chatting girls up at the bar or dancing with them.

   That is if you count grinding your hips against someone and running your hands through your hair as dancing.

   After a while as Harry and Liam started talking about business, I slunk off to the bar.

   "A Blue Long Island please," I ordered. I scooped up my drink as it arrived.

   "Hey," said one of the girls working behind the counter. She wasn't smiling or anything, just staring fixatedly at me as though she was trying to take in my face. "He wants to know how old you are."

   "Uh," I said lamely, "Who?"

   "Him," she said, nodding over further back where there was a guy polishing up shot glasses. "The manager." He had tattoos down one side of his neck, dark hair quiffed up. Was it wrong to say he almost reminded me of Zayn?

   "I'm- I'm seventeen," I said uncertainly. She turned and walked off without another word to me, but she didn't bother to keep her voice down as she spoke to the manager, loudly pointing out,

   "She's hardly legal."

   I scowled, and just sipped my drink.

   "Well you look like your night could do with a little sprucing up." I felt my heart sink immediately. I'd rather be hit on by bartenders then have to endure Zayn Malik. He hopped onto the bar stool next to me, looking past tipsy already.

   "Two shots of Black Delilah," he called, raising his arm higher than necessary.

   "I've got a drink," I replied coldly.

   "Ah," he tutted, whisking my drink away from me before I could finish it. "That's a sad drink. Take this." He grabbed his own and downed it in one, pausing for a moment and letting out a heavy breath and a loud whoop.

   "I don't want your drink," I mumbled, snatching back my own and shoving his away.

   "Why don't you like me, Finley?" he asked, craning closer to me. So close, I could see those honey eyes. They were unfocussed, yet determined. "You know, everyone likes me. Why don't you like me?"

   "What makes you think everyone likes you?" I shot back. He stared at me for a moment, before he chuckled.

   "You don't," he answered. He wasn't even making any sense anymore.

   "Right, bu-"

   "Hey," said a voice, and I glanced up to see the bartender leaning across the counter. His eyes were fixed on me, as though Zayn wasn't even there. "Is this guy bothering you?"

   "Sorry?" said Zayn loudly, sounding insulted. He jumped off his stool, nearly toppling over. "Who the fuck are you?"


   "I'm the manager of the bar," replied the guy coolly. "So if you're bothering her, then it's my business."

   "Fuck off!"


   "Zayn!" I snapped, grabbing on to his arm, but he wrenched it out of my grasp. His eyes were wide, and wild.

   "Mind your own fucking business, prick!" he snarled at the manager.

   "Don't make me kick you out," the manager warned.

   "Kick me out- this is my fucking party!" Zayn yelled, launching himself over the bar, sending drinks flying and the whole club descended into chaos. I managed to scramble over my stool before I was crushed by the swarming crowd.

   There was the smashing of glass, the roar of the people as I desperately tried not to be crushed.

   Somehow, I found Harry and latched myself onto him, Liam grabbed Zayn and we were all tossed out shamefully into the gutter. Louis was the first standing up, brushing himself off disdainfully, before helping the rest of us up. Strange, him being responsible like that. Something I'd expect Liam to do.

   "Zayn, what the hell went on in there?" demanded Harry angrily, turning to Zayn who was leaning over like he might fall back over any second. "Zayn!"

   Harry had grabbed onto him to stop him from moving, but the alcohol still running in Zayn's system must have hit his head, because he shoved him off with an incensed glare and pointed at me. At once, I felt the stare of five boys on me.

   "Her!" Zayn spat, with so much contempt, I almost recoiled. He had a cut lip. "She...bloody congratulations Liam, your girlfriend is a SLUT." With that, he turned around and started to stumble blindly down the street. He looked a little like a zombie. I jumped when I felt an arm loop around my shoulders again. It was Liam.

   "Never mind him," Liam said quietly. "He gets angry when he drinks."

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