Chapter 7: 06

'Stay' - Zedd, Alessia Cara

Unedited

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It was Monday again. He was actually looking forward to it - the activist wasn't here to repeat that same lecture. He was looking forward to seeing Syra again, even if they ignored each other's presence like their lives depended on it.

He approached the table, seeing her already there. Her neat black scarf elegantly shaped like a triangle from each shoulder to the middle of her chest. The cinched in waist of her white shirt before it flared out over her hips, her black jersey skirt clinging to her legs as she crossed her legs, giving that view of an hourglass. It amazed him how he noticed so many things about her in just a glance. Her emeralds eyes peered up and him, her eyebrows slightly arched, and those lips with that glossy shiz again. He loved the way it looked yet hated it for drawing his gaze to her lips and looking so-

Deep breath bmt, he thought. His thoughts weren't exactly the most halal and pg around her right now - well they never were to be honest but he wasn't ready to acknowledge that yet. (Halal means permitted in Islam).

"Salam Syra," he announced his arrival. Syra looked up with a suspecting look on her face - most likely because they didn't even speak the entire week before, except for when they met. Her indifference stung, a lot, but she looked completely fine, and that hurt too. But he was in no position to complain.

"Walaikumasalam, how are you?" she replied smoothly. At least she's being mature.

"The usual ofc? What bout you?"

"Great, as well. Here let me just make some space for you," she answered while making space for him next to her.

He thanked her, placing his stuff down, maintaining his distance. He could still smelt the waft of her lavender scent. Her politeness surprised him but also made him wary. You could never predict a girl's next move the way they could easily predict a guy's. She didn't seem like the scheming type but you never know.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you. You're prolly wondering why I'm talking to you after, you know last week we just carried on individually. It's for my studies. I'm taking Human Biology, Sociology and Psychology for A Levels so taking part in this competition would really benefit my subjects in different ways. But we gotta win," she explained, using her hand gestures and little eyebrow raises to emphasise her words. He assessed her, focusing on her rather than her words.

He nodded, signalling her to continue. He'd do anything she needed really so he didn't care that he wasn't listening - she could just order him around later, for all that matters.

"They paired people they thought were unlikely to have interacted with each other out side of college - but within the same nationality which is where International Day plays a role. So, we gotta get to know each other well, pretty well, to win, because the competition will be like grilling to people who've known each other for their whole lives - you get me?" She continued. She stopped, took a deep breath, biting her lip as she waited for her reply.

Wrong move, bbygirl, he thought, you interrupted my line of thought by doing that. He shook his head and straightened himself - he needed to get his mind out the gutter. He'd easily remember anything she'd have to say about herself, but he had to watch what he'd say about himself, he couldn't reveal certain things but he wanted to win for her. And maybe so they could lesson his community service.

"Sure. Whatever you need. You lead." he answered. He could barely focus anyways.

"Well let's start with the basics. Twenty one questions. I'll go first. What made your parents choose your name?" she asked.

It was a little strange for a first question - he'd anticipated something about his childhood or something. Curiosity burned in her eyes - he could tell she had wanted to ask this for a while. Interesting.

"Well Zayn means beauty. I'm the only one of my siblings who got my father's grey eyes, which my mother absolutely adored. So she searched up names that'd describe something beautiful, and she chose Zayn, since all my siblings' names begin with Z. As for my middle Malik, my dad's brother Ali, he used to call me his little king when I was born. He died just 4 days after my birth, so my dad named me Malik in memory of his brother. And ofc, my surname Ahmed is from my forefathers." he elucidated.

"Zayn Malik wasn't a thing back then so, no, I wasn't named after him," he added.

"People must remind you all the time of that,"

"I don't bother telling people my middle name just cuz of that - it gets tiring. People already think any brown guy with a beard looks like him,"

"Ngl you kinda do, like idk," she said after looking at him face for a few seconds. Zayn thanked the Lord for giving him tan skin which covered his blush.

He smirked, his ego soaring, "Normally I hate hearing this, but I think I remember you saying that's he's the most leng celebrity, and, I quote, "devastatingly hot," soooo I appreciate the indirect compliment,"

He laughed silently, watching her as she realised what had happened. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, while laughing. He had to admit, there was nothing better than hearing the girl you like compliment your looks. Girl you're attracted to only. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't as one-sides as he'd first thought to be.

"Righttttt. I didn't even realise. It's not my fault who legit remember everything I say. Anyways, you ask me a question," she muttered, still embarrassed. He smiled at her - she looked so cute and bashful.

"What's your passion?" he said without really thinking. He paused, realising that might be a risky way to ask the question, but luckily she just answered.

"Art. I love sketching stuff. To take out my frustrations, whenever I have an idea and I sketch stuff that I love-" she blinked at that, zoning out for a few seconds, before shaking her head and continuing, "- and if I really like a piece I'd do it in water colours, paint of pastels - depending on the theme. But Art isn't exactly the most, idk, reliable career, so I chose my fave subjects and plan to go into Physiotherapy and Psychology, alongside being a social worker, as I enjoy that too. You?"

"I wanna go abroad and study. Prolly study business as I plan on doing business in the future - I wanna be my own boss. And I want to travel, on my own, and then travel with my significant other, before settling down some place. It's all kinda hazy but I have a basic idea."

She nodded, digesting what he said, before speaking up,

"Tell me about your siblings,"

He took a deep breath; this would be long.

"Well first we have Ziad, bossy - which eldest sibling ain't. He's 27. His middle name is Amjad, after my Dada, and he and Naila Bhabi, have 3 kids: twins Mahnoor and Mahrukh, who are four and Maher who's two .

Next is my sis Zarah - she's 24. She and her man Yasir got Laiq, who's five, Arshad who's three and twins Yunus and Yusuf who're 5 months. Her middle name is Balqees - I think cuz my mum really liked it.

Then we got Zeyd - middle name is Waqar after my great uncle - and he's like the one who minds his own business. He's 21. Yamna Bhabi and him have Noor and Hoor, who're two.

Then Zakaria who's 19. He's, well got anger issues. He and Javairia Bhabi just had Nuh two months ago.

Then it's me. Single af.

Then my fifteen year old sis Zaina, middle name is Mehar, cuz my Dadi liked it. She's way too mature.

Next it's fourteen year old Zayan, middle name is Asad, meaning lion. He's always smiling.

We got Zoya next, she's ten. Middle name Mariya. She's like a copy of my mum.

Then Zahid, who's eight. Middle name is Idris, after my late cousin. An annoying little squirt.

After its Zeynab, who's five. She's a very sensitive kid - comes with being the youngest girl. Her middle name, er, it's Manaal after my late aunt.

Finally, it's Zeeshan. He's so spoilt and a bratty little three year old. His middle name is Qasim, after my dad's childhood friend who passed away.

And that's it. Pretty big, but it's worth it. Big families are where the fun's at. Yeah and more drama." (Dada: paternal grandfather) (Bhabi: brother's wife).

He felt thirsty after talking for so long. He tipped his head back and took a large gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. From the corner of his eye he caught Syra just staring at him, well more at his neck. This girl is giving us hella mixed signals, said his confident side. Ya really think she likes us?, fought back his uncertain side. I don't think so, I know so, was the reply. He fought the urge to smirk, she had been caught ogling him and she knew it. She coughed and spoke,

"Wow, the more the merrier I presume. I'll tell you about my siblings, too, then.

Malikah Anya. She's 22. Got Hassan and Hussain with my bro-in-law, Hamza. They're Irish twins so Hassan just turned 1 and Hussain is 2 months

Then it's Saleh Amman - twenty, then Ilyas Shan - eighteen, next is me, then Umar Ihsan & Umair Izhar at thirteen, Husna Yasmin who's eleven and lastly Anayah Shaheen at six. That's all eight of us-"

She continued explaining about how her sister had dealt with the Irish twins but he'd stopped listening at that point.

Ilyas Shan Siddiqi.

He knew that name. He was too busy being infatuated with Syra to connect the dots. Of course she was his sister - how could he have missed the obvious resemblance. He knew he'd seen those eyes before. He didn't have anything against the dude. He was involved in illegal street racing - not that Zayn was in position to judge considering his own after college activities. Maybe if Syra knew about her brother, she wouldn't judge him so quickly? Not now maybe but a little after they got to know each other better - was it worth the risk? No one knew, not even his friends or cousins.

He shook his head and replied to something Syra said. He just focused on getting them to win the competition. After that he'd see. All he knew was that he wasn't going to back to a life without this girl.

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Zayn took deep breaths once he stepped out of his college. He wanted to go inside and ask Syra to stay and spend more time together - but he needed to be somewhere. She'd said something about needing to go somewhere too- he hadn't seen her after that. He shook his head; he needed his head clear.

Taking a quick look around to make sure no one he knew was around, he jogged to the back of his college, climbing over the fence. He took a few turns around the the backstreets, going to the one he always went when he had to go there.

He went to the secluded corner and quickly unbuttoned his white uniform shirt and pulling on a random cotton T-shirt from his bag. Undoing his belt and unzipping  his black trousers, he hurriedly yanked them down, stepping out of his shoes to stand on them while he discarded of them. He pulled on grey tracksuit shorts till his knees. He pulled on short black knee sleeves - he was positive the cuts on his knees would get infected as his destination wasn't the most sanitary place. He replaced his grey socks for black ankle ones, pulling on his trainers again. He stuffed everything else back in, just pulling out a banana.

He peeled it and ate it unhurriedly - he couldn't risk choking on undigested food later. His skin pricked up with goosebumps - it was a typical chilly and damp London day with grey cloudy skies - but he was sure there was something else. Or someone else. He felt a pair of eyes, a heavy gaze on him. He would've gone to investigate but he received a text. He checked it

No Caller ID:

He's decided to come a little earlier. Creating a ruckus. Might wanna come a tad bit earlier before someone else deals with him.

Zayn

Omw. Gimme a couple mins

He tossed his banana on a pile of trash in the corner, grabbing his rucksack and legging it out of the alleyway, feeling the drizzle on his face. He felt their presence closer, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. He ran faster; he didn't have time to dawdle, he had to go.

But he knew he'd be fighting this fight for Syra. Even if he refused to acknowledge. She's buried herself deep into his cold heart.

For Syra. For his woman. His jaan. (Life).

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So it's not hard to guess now what Zayn does in his free time. I was kinda nervous to post this cuz I felt it was too boring - remember their chemistry cannot be too obvious rn, it's too early and both are very reserved when infront of each other.

Ngl if I had a fine ass specimen like Zayn next to me if turn to jelly, so we can say Syra is doing better than most of us  could.

2280 words.