????????. | Z.M

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I sit at my desk, textbooks open, pretending to study—but my mind refuses to focus. The murders, the stares in the hallway, the way Ali barely lasts a minute in our dorm before finding an excuse to leave—it all clings to me like a shadow. But what I can't shake the most is my conversation with Zayn.

I never realized just how much these past few days have affected me. And the worst part? The only person I feel like I can rely on is Zayn. Fucking. Malik. I sigh as I hear Alicia walk back into our dorm, every nerve in my body hyper-aware of her presence. I stay quiet, listening as she drops her colorful tote onto the floor.

"I'm going to lunch with Harry," she mumbles.

I turn to look at her, forcing a small smile. "You two seem awfully cozy lately." The words come out lighter than I feel. I remember all the nights she kept me awake, rambling about her crush on Harry.

She shrugs, awkward. "With everything happening, we just... gravitated toward each other."

I nod, but before I can say anything else, she cuts through my thoughts. "And you and Zayn?" She's trying, I can tell, but the way she barely meets my eyes stings.

I frown. "What about him?"

"Who would've thought being partners in crime—no pun intended—would make you two so buddy-buddy." Her smirk is sharp, but her words bite deeper than she realizes.

"Really, Alicia?" I exhale sharply, my patience fraying. "We've been roommates and best friends for four years. I'd expect you, of all people, to believe me before Zayn." My voice is rougher than I intended, but I don't take it back.

She looks past me, her expression unreadable. "Whatever." She sighs, already heading for the door. "I'm leaving. And your puppy's waiting for you outside." She bumps my shoulder as she passes, and I follow behind her opening our door and watching her disappear down the stairs before turning to the familiar weight of a stare.

I don't have to look to know who it is.

"What are you doing here, Zayn?" My voice is softer than I meant for it to be. I wish it still held the sharp edge it used to. "I didn't even know you knew where my dorm was."

"Harry told me," he says simply, leaning against the wall like he has all the time in the world. 

I close the door behind me, pressing my back against it, my hands clenched behind me. "I'm sorry—the whole thing with Ali is taking a toll on me," I admit, rubbing my tired eyes. I don't need to open them to know he's stepped closer. His presence is overwhelming in a way I refuse to acknowledge, especially with those deep brown eyes watching me too closely, like he's trying to uncover something I'm not ready to face. A warm hand lands on my shoulder, and when I finally look up, his gaze is already there—steady, searching, and far too knowing.

"I get it," he says, voice low, steady.

I hate how easily he draws me in. I clear my throat, silently willing him to step back, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I found something."

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. "What?" I murmur.

"Let me in." He nods toward my dorm.

My eyes widen. "You know boys aren't allowed in the girls' dorm—"

"You always have to be such a rule follower?" he scoffs. "We've already broken enough rules by now."

I inhale sharply, hesitating for just a second too long. His eyes flicker with something—amusement, challenge, something else I don't want to name.

"Fine," I mutter, stepping aside. "But make it quick." I open the door and let him in. He looks around as If my room was the most interesting thing ever. He studies the pictures on my desk—family, friends, mostly with Ali—his fingers grazing the edge of one frame like he's memorizing the details. The way he looks at them, at this small glimpse of my life, makes something uneasy stir in my chest. He shouldn't be seeing this, not like this.