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.


8. hots for the hairdresser.


   The next night, I was lying on the couch flicking through the programmes on tv, trying to find something good to watch. Liam was talking with his mum again. They'd been talking alot the past day, and every time Liam just continued to look more and more worried. Zayn was preoccupied sitting on the other lounge chair, fiddling with something in his hands.

   Awkward wasn't quite enough to fit what Zayn and I had become. After I'd walked on him clearly smoking something- god knows what, he avoided me completely and just acted as though I wasn't there. Turns out, I was sleeping the room just across the hall.

   "Finley?" I started when I heard that voice. I hadn't heard in many years. I craned my neck around and saw Liam perched at the doorway, looking confused and a little scared.

   "Yeah?" I said, sitting up quickly. I could see the clouded look in his eyes.

   "Er, can I talk to you?" he asked. I nodded quickly, getting up and following him outside. It was past nine o'clock at night already, so it was pitch black outside apart from the dim street lights and the slithers of illumination peeking from behind the house curtains.

   Liam led me around the side of the house, where the driveway was, and there we sat. Under the window to my temporary bedroom, on the short brick wall that lined the driveway. We used to sit here when we were kids.

   "What's wrong?" I asked, anxious.

   "My mum," Liam said numbly, "She's...she's moving away." I stared at him for a moment.

   "What do you mean, moving away?"

   "Overseas. To Australia, I think," he said in a tiny quavering voice. I sighed a little, wrapping an arm across his shoulders. He broke down a little. "God Fin, it's so far away."

   "You can still visit her right?" I asked.

   "I guess," he sniffed, leaning his head on my shoulder. I leant my head against his. It felt right there. Safe. Warm. "But she's going tonight, and I'm not going to have any family left in England anymore. Nobody."

   "Hey," I said gently, lifting his chin a little. "You've got me, eh? Finley and Liam. You'll be alright, Payno." He smiled a sad sort of smile; the type that reached all the way up to his watery chocolate eyes. He didn't want to be alone. No one wanted to be alone.

   "She's leaving me the house," he continued with a quiet sigh. "It's mine now. You can stay as long as you want, you know? Before you can get back on your feet." Me. Thinking about my life made my head hurt, so I turned it back away.

   "Never mind me," I sighed, pulling him in a hug. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough." A lie. I had no idea where to go from here. Maybe go to college. I'd dropped out of high school in the final year, Liam hadn't been there and it was absolute hell. Maybe find some work. Maybe.

   Liam and I got up again, walking back inside. Zayn was still sitting on the couch, fiddling with something in his hands. I noticed it was a woven bracelet of some sort, something like a friendship bracelet.

   "What's up?" he asked, seeing our grim faces, more to Liam than me.

   "The house is mine, my mum's moving overseas," Liam said, with a brief grimace. "I'm alright, mate." The three of us sat in silence as I flicked through the channels again, trying to find something to watch.

   "You know what," said Liam, getting up from the couch and disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. He emerged holding a pair of scissors. At first I felt my throat choke up, but I hastily reminded myself it was only Liam. "I'm going to cut your hair. Now."

   He sat down a sigh, obviously wanting to get his mind off his mother's sudden departure. He patted the space next to him and I shuffled over. Liam and I talked as he started snipping at my hair.

   "We should probably have put something on the floor to clean all the hair up, right?" he said, looking down at the ground where a few locks already lay.

   "Probably," I snorted, glancing at the tv where some guy was painting a deck. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but I prayed to god his cutting skills had improved since we'd been in middle school.

   "Erm," Liam said after a while, "I might...maybe I shouldn't have..."

   "For god's sake, Liam," Zayn sighed, speaking for the first time since we'd gotten back. I glanced around as Zayn got up from the sofa, taking the scissors from Liam's hand patiently and snipping with careful strokes. "Like that, you're making it shorter before you twat."

   "Sorry," huffed Liam, "You know what, you do it." Liam shoved the scissors back at Zayn, who's eyes widened. They flickered to me momentarily, before turning back to Liam.

   "No, no," Zayn said hurriedly, trying to force them back into Liam's hands. "I don't cut hair."

   "I'm not asking you to be a hairdresser," said Liam exasperatedly. "Just cut her hair and try save it from the mess I've made." Zayn muttered something darkly as they swapped seats so now Zayn was sitting next to me. He fidgeted a little, before sitting so his back was pressed against the armrest of the couch.

   Avoiding my eye, he patted awkwardly to the space between his legs. I shifted over, uncomfortable at first, with the thought that I was lying between Zayn Malik's legs, my back hovering close to his chest. Man from where I was sitting, I could feel his... urgh, what was wrong with me?

   Still, after a while the two of us relaxed. Liam and Zayn were chatting rather happily, whilst commenting on the tv programme occasionally. At one point I glanced around to see Zayn snipping carefully at my hair, a look of careful determination on his face. Then his honey eyes dropped to mine and I whipped back around.

   Jeez. I was going mad.

   I got sleep after a while, and yeah, I fell asleep. On Zayn Malik. When my eyes fluttered back open, I was lying between his legs, my back pressed against his body. His legs rested either side of me, one of them dangling off the side of the couch and brushing the floor.

   I could see Liam, standing at the front door, and I could heard his mother's voice. He hugged her, then there was a deathish silence as he remained at the door. Next thing I knew, I could hear the car pulling away. Liam hovered there for a good five minutes. Then he closed the door and walked back to his bedroom without a word.

   I struggled to sit up, but I felt a tug of my hair. I turned around to see Zayn, half asleep, but still dilligently fixing the wreck of my hair. His eyes were half open, but I could see he was at least half competent.

   "Don't," he said softly, his golden eyes resting on mine. They were literally flawless. "Trust me, he'll want to be alone."


   "You can talk to him in the morning," he said, turning my head back around. I let it loll onto his chest, but he didn't seem to care. His gentle fingers were working slowly. After a while, he leant over and set the scissors down on the table, before he leaned back and started to run his fingers through my hair. It was shorter now that it was before, but at least it had some uniformity to it now.

   "There. Done."

   "Thanks," I mumbled, my mouth feeling heavy and lazy. I didn't move, wondering if he'd just shove me off or try to slither away back to bed. But he didn't. He just lay there, shifted a little so my head rested more comfortably on his chest, and sighed as though he was relaxing finally.

   One of his hands was still in my hair, his fingers sleepily tracing tiny circles into my scalp. It was surpisingly pleasant, in a way that oozed down my body. After a while, I felt the rhymthic rise and fall of his chest.

   "Are you awake?" I whispered cautiously. When he didn't reply, I placed a hand on his leg resting beside me. In response, he grunted and wriggled a little beneath me.

   "Go to sleep, Fin," he murmured. My heart caught in my chest and started racing wildly, like I was an over excited school girl or something.

  Fin, I thought sleepily, He called me Fin.

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