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.