Two Way Street

My phone started going off loudly on my floor next to my ear. I groaned and fumbled to grab it without opening my eyes, sending it skidding around a couple of times before I finally grasped it.

“The hell is that?” Zayn mumbled, rubbing his eye, his voice thick with sleep.

“Hello?” I answered without acknowledging Zayn’s question.

“Liam? Did I just wake you?”

I sat up straight at the sound of Louis’ voice, all traces of exhaustion gone from my body. “Um…kind of. Why, what time is it?”

“Nearly half noon. Why are you sleeping so late?” There was lots of suspicion in his voice. So much that it made me laugh.

“Um, I went over Zayn’s last night, and we were up until about three talking. So my body wants to sleep.”

“Oh, okay.” Louis’ tone was conversational again. “Look, I just want to tell you that I talked to Mara, and-”

“HI!” Mara exclaimed from the background.

“Oh, Mara says hi.”

“I heard her,” I laughed. “Tell her I say hi back.”

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “No. I’m not going to be the middleman for you guys to Romeo and Juliet to each other.”

“Is that a verb now?” I asked.

“ANYWAY,” Louis spoke over me, “I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Mara, and everything’s okay now. I approve of your relationship. And I’m not angry at you anymore. Okay?”

It took me a second to process everything. “Wait, really? I’m not being punk’d?”

Mara laughed from behind Louis, confirming that I was on speakerphone. “No,” Mara’s voice answered, “you’re not being punk’d. He’s telling you the truth.”

“Oh, awesome! Okay. Thanks, Lou. I’m glad you’re not angry at me anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll do something stupid soon enough to change it,” he laughed. “Tell Zayn hi for me.”

“I will. See you later.”

“Yup. Bye.”

The line went dead, so I threw my phone back on the ground. “Lou says hi.”

“Why’d you hang up?” Zayn asked in exasperation. “Now I can’t say hi back.”

“If it’s really bothering you that much,” I reminded him, “then why don’t you text him?”

“But my phone’s in my bedroom.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Then there’s no hope! I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Zayn laughed and got to his feet. “Maybe I’ll grab it on my way back from the toilet.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” I responded sarcastically as he left the room, running a hand through his messy hair.

While he was gone, I pulled myself onto the couch and switched on the telly, flipping through the channels to find something to watch.

A minute later, Zayn came out of the bathroom. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen.

My stomach answered for me, grumbling so loudly that I was positive he could hear it across the flat.

His laugh confirmed my suspicions. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He went through the kitchen loudly, shutting cupboards a little too loudly. And often. “Not finding anything?” I asked him.

“Well…not really. I kind of haven’t gone shopping in a while.” He poked his head out of the kitchen doorway. “Want peanut butter sandwiches?”

“That sounds fine with me,” I replied, getting to my feet. God forbid he hurt himself, and I was blamed for the injuries.

When I got into the kitchen, I found him going through the drawer. “Ugh, now I can’t find a knife.”

“Did you check the dishwasher?” I questioned, brushing by him to check myself. And surely enough, there were about a hundred or so (give or take) knives in the little compartment. “Are they clean?” I pulled one out and examined it.

Zayn stared at me thoughtfully. “I can’t remember if I set it off or not.”

“I’ll wash it just in case…” I trailed off, going up to the sink. It only took a second to wash it properly, and I handed it over.

He plucked it from my hand and made a couple of sandwiches quickly. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled as I took one of the sandwiches from the counter and took a bite.

“What? Not going to use a plate? You’re so uncivilized.”

“Says the boy who didn’t even know if his dishes were clean?”

Zayn stuck his tongue out at me before passing by me, carrying his sandwich over my head on his way to get a plate. “Oh, do you want water or anything?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He threw the water bottle at me, and I caught it just before it smacked against my stomach. “Never mind. I take back the thank you.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “What did Louis call about?”

“That’s random,” I snickered.

“It just popped into my head.”

“He just wanted to tell me that he’s okay with Mara’s and my relationship now and that he doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, that’s good.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, staring into the distance, deep in thought, before adding, “That’s because it’s you, though. You know that, right? He’d probably have killed Harry in his sleep if he’d made a move on Mara.”

“What do you mean?” I laughed.

“Well, think about it for a second. Of the five of us…or, four of us, if you exclude Louis, you’ve definitely got the cleanest image.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “So he’d accept you going out with her over anyone else.”

“I guess that’s true,” I mumbled. “Though, my image can’t be that clean anymore.”

“Sure it is,” Zayn assured me. “No paparazzi caught you drunk at the pub. No one saw you stumbling back to your flat with Mara. You’re fine. As far as the fans are concerned, you’re still little Liam, who would never drink a thing in his life.”

“Good point,” I nodded. “Do we have anything to do today?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you ask Niall or something?”

I pondered that for a second before shrugging. “Eh, it doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll find out eventually.”

“Cheers to that,” Zayn grinned, lifting up his water bottle, waiting for me to finish off the toast.