I take a breath and grip the edge of the counter discreetly. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not a prostitute, and I'm not interested in becoming your sugar baby."
"Aw, come on, babe. Don't be so stuck up." He tries to reach across the bar, but I step back.
"Stuck up?" I balk. "Because I don't want to sleep with you?"
He loosens his tie and unbuttons part of his shirt to reveal some of his chest hair. "You and I could have a lot of fun together."
Zayn slams his beer down on the bar and gets up. He takes a couple steps toward the man and leans in, whispering in his ear. I don't know what he's saying, but I watch as the guy's eyes widen and before I know it, he's muttering an apology and scurrying away.
"What did you say to him?"
Zayn shrugs and sits back down. "Don't worry about it."
"Amelia, can you help me grab some more glasses from the back?" calls McKaylah, a fellow bartender.
"Sure."
I go to join her, but stop after a few steps. I turn back around to Zayn, whose eyes haven't left me, and mouth a silent thank you. A small smile stretches across his face, and he nods once.
This would be a lot easier if he wasn't so perfect.
THE GUYS END UP getting kicked out at two in the morning when we close, but Kennedy and I need to spend another hour cleaning up. Unsurprisingly, the boss isn't thrilled at the fact that I broke more than ten glasses in my first night, but he agrees not to fire me just yet. That's a relief.
We're walking out to Kennedy's car as she tries to convince me that her plan worked.
"I'm telling you, Amelia," she presses. "You should have seen the look on his face when that sleaze was hitting on you. I'm honestly surprised he didn't hit him."
I shake my head. "He was just being nice. He would have done that for anyone."
"Maybe so, but obnoxious guys were hitting on me all night too, and none of them made him look like he was ready to kill."
She might have a point. All this time I've wondered if he's not with me because he doesn't want to be, or because of something else. To be honest, I feel like if he had no feelings for me, he wouldn't keep trying to come around. Showing up outside my dorm. Waiting for me outside my class. Coming to get me from that party last night before I regrettably hooked up with Mason Lockhart.
Does he?
"He's already rejected me once," I murmur with a little less fight.
She rolls her eyes. "After he slipped and hooked up with you. Zayn doesn't look like the kind to kiss someone he doesn't want to."
"Okay, then what do you suggest I do about it?"
"Grab the bull by the horns!" she shouts, a little too loud for this hour. "Go over there and make what you want known."
I snort. "Oh, because that will go so well with Easton there."
Looking around for something, she grabs a rusty screwdriver by the dumpster and jabs it into her tire. When she yanks it out, the whole thing goes flat before my eyes. As I watch her in disbelief, she takes out her phone and puts it to her ear.
"Easton? I'm sorry to wake you but I have a flat tire. Do you think you could come help?"
I shake my head, and she sticks her tongue out at me.
"No, she left. McKaylah gave her a ride home. Thank you so much."
She hangs up the phone and grins triumphantly. "Don't worry about Easton. Go get your man."
My nerves are already increasing by the second. "What if he turns me down again?"
Kennedy shrugs. "Then the line is drawn in the sand." She sees McKaylah coming out from the side door and calls her over. "Amelia needs a ride somewhere. Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
I guess it's now or never.
MCKAYLAH PULLS UP TO Zayn's, and I almost contemplate telling her to drive away. The light from his bedroom is on, and thoughts of what happened in that very room play through my head. I take a deep breath and open the door.
"Wait five minutes. If I'm not out by then, you can go."
She smiles. "You got it."
I swallow down the lump in my throat as I walk to the door. With all the bravery I have, I press the doorbell. It only takes a few seconds before I can hear someone coming down the stairs. The front door opens and Zayn stands there—sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his muscled torso on full display.
"Amelia?" he asks. "Is everything okay? Easton's not here."
"I know."
He looks confused as he glances around outside but I push my way in and shut the door behind me. Before I can stop myself, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor.
"What are you doing?" Zayn questions, staring at me like I've lost my mind.
"I'm tired of this game of are-we-or-aren't-we." My hands move to my pants and I unbutton them, pulling the zipper down but leaving them in place. "I'm making what I want known, and I want you."
His eyes rake over my body, and I can see the want in them. He bites down on his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. My heart is pounding loudly inside my chest.
"So, are you going to fuck me or not?"
I watch as his Adam's apple bobs with a heavy swallow. I'm leaning against the door as he comes closer and runs his hands gently down my bare arms. Goosebumps rise across my skin and his warm breath hits my face. As I look up at him, his gaze locks with my own, and I'm just waiting for him to kiss me. Instead, his fingers grab my zipper and pull it back up.
"I can't. I'm sorry," he whispers.
Humiliation and disappointment flood through me as he presses his lips to my forehead and re-buttons my jeans for me. Then, he steps back, and my whole body goes cold from the lack of his warmth.
"Then don't get mad when I find someone who will."
TWO DAYS PASS, AND I'm yet to hear a word from Zayn after I made a complete fool of myself. He hasn't tried calling or texting. Hasn't shown up at my dorm. Hasn't sent a damn carrier pigeon. And I know he's been around, because Easton mentioned he helped him fix the hole in Kennedy's tire the next day.
I spent all of Sunday moping about it. Having been rejected once hurt, but having it happen again—that was brutal. A part of me blamed Kennedy. After all, going over there and pretty much throwing myself at him was her idea, but she had a point. Despite being able to see the want in his eyes, I now know exactly where we stand, and so does he.
Maybe now all the mixed signals and attempts at trying to be "friends" will stop. Or at least I can hope. They only make this harder.
I'm walking out of class, not paying attention as I stare down at the ground, when I walk directly into someone. The books in my hands fall and scatter on the ground.
At first glance of the tattoos, I think it's Zayn, but when I look up at his face, I realize I was wrong. This guy is different. His short brown hair is messy, but not in a way that looks bad. His green eyes look warm, but everything else about him nearly makes me shiver.
"I'm so sorry about that," he says as I bend down to pick up my things. "Here, let me help you."
"Oh, that's okay."