Text me, Maybe? [ZARRY]

Zayn

I pace outside the café, phone gripped so tight my knuckles turn white. My breathing is uneven, my head spinning, and my entire body is practically vibrating with frustration.

Calum is definitely going to kill me for bailing mid-shift.

But in my defense, I can't exactly make cappuccinos when customers are asking for selfies like I'm some kind of tourist attraction.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in pure exasperation. This cannot be happening. This is my worst nightmare.

Then, my phone buzzes in my hand.

Harry:
Where are you?

I exhale sharply, already knowing this conversation will only add to my blood pressure.

Me:
Work. Or I was. Until your fans hunted me down.

Harry:
They're not my fans if they're harassing you.

I snort. Yeah, okay.

Me:
Yeah? Then come collect them.

There. Let's see him deal with this mess.

For a moment, nothing.

Then

Harry:
On my way.

I freeze.

Me:
Wait, what?

Harry:
What? You called for backup.

Me:
I DID NOT

Before I can finish my thought, a car horn blares from the street.

I whip around.

And there, pulling up with all the subtlety of a blockbuster action hero, is Harry Styles.

He's in a ridiculous, oversized coat and a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than my rent, rolling down his window like a smug little menace.

He smirks. "Get in, loser. We're going into hiding."

I stare at him. "You are not serious."

"Deadly," he says, effortlessly cool. He leans over and pushes the door open. "Unless you like being a trending topic?"

I groan, my entire body screaming at me to say no—but my legs betray me. With a frustrated sigh, I climb into the car, slamming the door shut behind me.

"This is the worst day of my life," I mutter.

Harry just grins as he pulls away from the curb. "Oh, babe. It's only just begun."

...

We drive in silence for a few minutes, the city blurring past the window. I cross my arms, leaning against the door, determined to act unimpressed.

Eventually, I sigh. "Where are we going?"

Harry hums, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "A secret hideout."

I squint. "You don't have a secret hideout."

He glances at me, the smirk still there. "How do you know?"

"...Do you?"

Instead of answering, he just winks and takes a sharp turn.

Two minutes later, we pull up in front of a ridiculously fancy apartment building.

My jaw nearly drops.

"Oh, my God," I mutter. "You do have a secret hideout."

Harry giggles and hops out of the car. "Not so much a hideout as a flat."

I hesitate, watching him jog around to my side of the car and open my door. "You want me to go inside?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What, you wanna go back to work?"

...Damn it. He has a point.

I sigh and step out. "If there's paparazzi, I'm jumping off this building."

Harry laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulder, tugging me close in a way that is very much not necessary.

"If there's paparazzi," he murmurs, voice full of amusement, "I'll just kiss you."

I choke. "WHAT—"

But he's already dragging me toward the entrance, grinning. "Relax. No one's here."

The doors close behind us. The noise of the city fades.

And suddenly, it's just us.

The elevator ride is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the machinery.

Harry leans casually against the wall, sunglasses still on, watching me.

"You alright?" he asks, softer now.

I exhale slowly. "No."

His head tilts slightly, like he's studying me. "Wanna talk about it?"

I blink at him. "Do you ever stop talking?"

His lips twitch. "Not when you're around."

And this...this is dangerous.

Because my heart does this stupid thing where it beats faster.

And my brain does this stupid thing where it wonders what it would feel like if he actually kissed me.

And my mouth does this stupid thing where it says, "You're so annoying."

Harry just grins.