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.


11. let's go get high.


   I was sure there must have been two sides to the Zayn Malik that I had seen.

   One- he was pestering, self-centred nymphomaniac with an ego problem, and a hunger for trouble and destruction. Or the other- somewhat charming, cheeky, kind almost, the one which had the ability to feel something rather than just push it away and scowl at me.

   The side I'd seen of Zayn in the kitchen that morning after the party had disappeared, not emerged again ever since.

   I knew every time we met, he would pull something like that. Some me a side of him which was less guarded and make me believe that there might be something more. And then, he'd just pull away and lock me out, pretend it never happened and I'd realised it was just a dumb mistake. Stupid, fucking Zayn Malik. Wouldn't like be easier if I'd just never met him?

   One day, all the boys had dropped by at Liam's place just to hang out, and I found myself grudgingly pulled into their conversation.

   "Fin!" called Liam from the living room, whilst I hurriedly closed my door and started pacing. I definitely wasn't ready to see Zayn like this. What was wrong with me? Who cared about Zayn? "Finley!"

   "What?" I yelled back, pretending to be preoccupied.

   "Fin come on," I heard Liam say, his voice growing louder as he approached. Ah, crap. "There you are." He practically had kicked the door open, and stood there grinning at me.

   "What is it?" I asked wearily, before he grabbed my hand and grabbed me outside into the living room. I pulled up short at the sight of the four boys, all sprawled out on the couch infront of the television. Almost in perfect sync, they all glanced up at me appraisingly at the exact same time. "Oh."

   "Hi Finley," said Harry brightly, apparently remembering out awkward encounter in the club where I'd groped him in the dark.

   "Hi Harry," I said sheepishly, unable to meet his eye.

   "Hey," said Niall and Louis, who I really hadn't conversed that much with before. Zayn, was just staring at the television fixatedly as though the advertisement for the Ab Circle Pro was aboslutely fascinating.

   From here, I could see the perfect quiff of his dark hair and those stupid golden honey eyes. There he goes, doing it again. Pretending like whatever happened clearly did not happen. I gritted my teeth to avoid gnashing them, and Liam guided me over, almost having to shove me into the sofa to get me to sit down.

   Next to Zayn.

   No reaction from him, I glanced sideways at him sneakily. Oh screw it, he probably knew I was gawping at him like a confused child.

   Considerng what had happened last time we met, it was perfectly right to be awkward.

    I'd seen him naked and we'd been standing in the kitchen in our underwear, we'd almost kissed. Well, at least I thought that was what he was going to do. I'd sucked on his thumb like it was some kinky turn on for him. God, what an idiot I was.

   The boys chatted lightly whilst watching television, when suddenly the topic of drugs somehow came into the conversation. Of all things.

   "Remember at that after party we went?" asked Louis, his socked foot lying on the coffee table. "Apparently Lana was smoking one in the bathroom."

   "Lana?" said Harry, with a raised eyebrow, before he shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past her."

   "Yeah," said Niall, sitting up, as the Irishness of his voice rolled off his tongue, "But that's not all, right? Apparently she was sharing a joint with some other artists backstage, I mean that was right before they went out to perform."

   "You saw her performance though, right?" snickered Louis, before letting his eyes roll in the back of his head and he swayed back and forth drunkenly. "Let's go get high..." The others laughed loudly, all except for Zayn who had surprisingly stiffened and not said a word since the conversation had started.

   "She must have smoked something, Niall concluded decisively, "No wonder everyone thought she was up there when she was singing."

   "Trust Lana," sighed Harry, whilst Liam tutted disapprovingly.

   "What other artists did she share the joint with?" he interrupted.

   "Er, there was the twins from Black Saturday, the bass guitarist from Solo Inc.-" rambled off Harry, ticking him off in his head. Beside me, Zayn was getting twitchy. "Josie McIntyre..."

   Zayn jumped up suddenly, everyone staring at him.

   "I've got to..." he said in a restricted voice, before he quickly walked off without another word, disappearing down the hallway towards the bedrooms. I bit my lip, feeling that it was out of my control. Still, I felt like I had to know.

   "I'll be back," I mumbled to Liam, not eager to stick around for the rest of the drug conversation. "I need to check something."

   He nodded, looking a little confused, but trusted me anyway. I hopped off the couch and disappeared after Zayn. I found him sitting in the corridor, holding a cigarette between his fingers and puffing smoke into the darkness. Horrified, I ran into my room, and came back out, spraying him with air freshner.

   Zayn jumped to his feet, looking outraged.

   "What the hell do you want?" he snarled, suddenly defensive.

   "What the hell are you thinking?" I demanded in a hushed voice, "Smoking in here? Liam's gonna smell it on you as soon as you walk outside."

   "That's my business," he muttered, looking down on me. He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke into my face, making my eyes water and my throat sear. I swallowed and forced myself to keep looking at him.

   "You went all funny," I said quietly, "When they were talking about the backstage joint." He glared at me.

   "I really don't know what you want," he mumbled, trying to push past me, but I stepped infront of him, blocking his way.

   "You guys were there that night," I continued, and he didn't meet my eye, his jaw set firmly and stubbornly.

   "Get out of my way," he muttered, trying to nudge past me again.

   "Zayn," I said shakily, staring at him. "You remember the first day we arrived back here, and I walked in on you..."

   "For god's sake, Finley!" he yelped suddenly, anger in his golden eyes as he shoved me out of his way. My shoulder slammed into the opposite wall and I crumpled to the ground. I just lay there for a few moments, absorbing the shock of it.

   He was standing there, his back to me, taking heavy breaths as though he was trying to calm himself.

   "I'm sorry," he said finally, exhaling heavily through his nose. "I don't know what that was...I'm sorry." He turned around, his eyes softening as he leant down and offered me his hand. I hesitated, but the look on his face told me I could trust him not to hurt me again.

   I didn't say a word as he helped me to my feet, and used his other hand to subconsciously brush the front of my jeans to clean them a little.

   "Are you hurt?" he asked gently, in a voice I was almost fooled into believing was caring.

   "I'm OK," I replied, staring at my feet and shuffling them awkwardly.

   "I don't know what..." he began but I cut across him sharply.

   "Don't bother," I interrupted, and turned to disappear back into my room. He watched me go without a word, and I heard his footsteps plod down the hallway a few moments later.



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