Text me, Maybe? [ZARRY]

Harry

I am an idiot.

A moron.

A complete and utter fool.

Because I just said I like Zayn.

Out loud.

To his face.

And now he's looking at me like he's just won some twisted, invisible game I didn't even know we were playing.

Smirking. Smug. Amused.

I hate him.

So, naturally, I do the only thing I can think of.

I chug my coffee. Aggressively.

"Easy there, superstar," Zayn drawls, tone dripping with amusement. "Wouldn't want you to choke on that."

I slam my cup down with way more force than necessary. "I'm fine."

Zayn raises an eyebrow, eyes practically glowing with mischief. "You sure? You look a little..." He pauses, tilting his head like he's deep in thought. "Flustered."

I scoff. "Me? Flustered? Absolutely not."

He just stares at me.

I hold his gaze, unwavering.

I will not back down.

I will not let him win.

I will not—

Oh my God, why is he still staring at me like that?

I shift in my seat.

"I said what I said," I repeat, maybe a little too firmly.

His lips twitch, and I know he's enjoying this way more than he should. "You did."

I narrow my eyes. "And you're gonna hold it over my head forever, aren't you?"

Zayn doesn't even pretend to hesitate. "Oh, absolutely."

I groan, slumping forward, pressing my forehead against the table like that might somehow erase this entire interaction from existence. "This is the worst."

Zayn hums, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee. "Nah. I think it's hilarious."

I lift my head just enough to glare at him.

He grins.

And that's when it really hits me.

I am so screwed.