Caught in the Crossfire

Oakley tapped her fingers on the table in front of her, biting her lip as she shot a side-glance at the folded piece of paper sitting about a foot away. It had been almost a week, and she really wanted to call Penelope and tell the cute girl that she and Zayn were in on the plan, even though Zayn still hadn’t agreed with it.

She didn’t know how to explain it, but there was just a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach whenever she thought about the situation. Maybe it was just woman’s intuition or something, but she really felt that something bad was coming, and if she and Zayn didn’t jump on the bandwagon and start helping soon, then it was possible London was going to fall apart.

Finally, she snatched up the piece of paper, pulled her mobile out of her pocket, and dialed the number. It rang, it rang, it rang, and it rang, but no one answered. When the beep sounded, Oakley said, “Hey, Penelope. This is Oakley. I called to tell you that Zayn and I are in, so just give us a time, a date, and a place, and we’ll be there.”

Once she finished the message, she pressed the End button and threw her mobile on the table. For a second, she just relished in the fact that she’d acted of her own accord, without having to clear anything with Zayn. She felt wholly independent, making a decision without having to argue with him about it first. Because he wasn’t the boss of her. They were equals.

After her sense of accomplishment started to fade, she got to her feet and combed her fingers through her hair to make it look presentable before heading across the hall to Zayn’s flat.

She knocked on his door a couple of times, twisting her mouth and biting on the inside of her cheek as she waited for him to answer. Which, as usual, he took his sweet time in doing, since he knew it was her.

When he answered, he was just wearing a pair of sweatpants, his torso exposed, all of his tattoos standing out against his skin. Oakley found herself looking at them carefully, trying to see if there were any ones that she didn’t remember, but Zayn quickly cleared his throat to show his discomfort.

“Are you going to let me in?” Oakley questioned with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her chest, which was highlighted nicely by her low-cut shirt.

Zayn rolled his eyes as he stepped to the side, admitting the fellow superhero into his living quarters. “Okay,” Oakley started, making herself comfortable on the couch, “I just wanted to let you know that I called Penelope and told her we were in.”

“Okay.”

And that was it. There was no scolding, no arguing, nothing. Oakley felt kind of disappointed and unfulfilled. Did he not understand how their relationship worked? It was crazy, how dependent she was starting to feel on their back-and-forth, and the lack of it made her feel empty.

“You’re not going to get angry at me?” she replied, her eyebrows pulling together in concern as she scooted to the front of the couch cushion. “Tell me that I’m a backstabbing bitch? That I had no right to do such a thing?”

“Did you only do it to get me angry?” He looked up at her, and it took everything inside of her not to read his mind and find out what was going on with him.

“Well, no, but…still. You gotta give me something, man.”

“I don’t have the energy,” he replied, curling up on his side and resting his face on his fist.

He was clearly upset, but feelings were not Oakley’s specialty. She usually did everything she could to keep from feeling much of anything at all, other than lust.

“Do you…want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Oakley asked carefully, trying not to sound like the very idea made her thoroughly uncomfortable.

“Not really, considering you’re the issue.”

Oakley felt her blood start to boil. “Look, Zayn, if you have a problem with me, just fucking say it. Don’t mope around like some kind of pansy. Man up!”

He let out a long, pathetic sigh. “You’re just trying to get me to argue with you now. Just leave it alone. I’ll be fine tomorrow, or whenever those people want us to join the group. Just go back to your flat, get ready to go out to the pubs, and bang as many of those pointless losers as your little heart desires.”

No, Oakley scolded herself. Do not read his mind. It’s an invasion of privacy. “Whatever, Zayn. Let me know when you want to stop acting like a baby.”

She felt her hand close around the doorknob when she heard him say, “Oakley, wait.”

She turned reluctantly, her face still twisted with anger. “What is your problem?”

“My problem is the way you looked at Liam the other day, when he was here.” Zayn’s voice was barely above a whisper, so Oakley stepped closer to hear him better. “It seems like you just look at…everyone.”

“Since when does me being a slut bother you?” she snapped. “I’ve been like this for a long time. If it gets to you that much, I’ll just stop working with you.”

“It’s not about that. It’s that you…” He let out a sigh. “Oakley, I’ve always been here. I’ve always looked out for you. That guy who I ripped you away from the other night? He was carrying a knife in his pocket that you didn’t see, and his hand kept twitching to reach for it. He was looking for victims, not a hookup.”

She had no idea. Even if she could read minds, her judgment wasn’t fool-proof. And she could have gotten into a sticky situation without him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered. “I mean, thanks for saving me, but that’s kind of what we do. I’ve saved your life, too.”

“But you don’t feel anything for me?”

She was pretty sure her heart stopped beating inside of her chest. Since when was Zayn sweet and vulnerable? He looked like he was about to cry, for fuck’s sake. What was she supposed to do?

Oakley wasn’t an idiot. She knew that Zayn was an attractive guy, and she knew that plenty of girls he passed on the street wanted nothing more than to bang him against a wall until they were breathless.

But she’d never let herself look at him that way. Before they had been partners in heroics, Zayn had been her older brother’s best friend. It was against every code in the book to date a brother’s best friend, and he certainly showed no desire. And as they’d grown closer, they’d done nothing but bicker, and Zayn liked to remind her every chance he got that he hadn’t wanted her on his team. That he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Then why did you always say those things?” she asked, her voice gaining strength. “Why did you always act like you hated me?”

“Because it was easier. I don’t know. Andrew would kill me.”

“Don’t worry about Andrew,” Oakley replied. “He’s in America. What influence could he possibly have on us?”

Zayn looked down at the ground and stuck his hands in his pockets, so Oakley rolled her eyes and strolled across the living room. Just as he looked up at her with shocked eyes, she hooked her hand around the back of his neck and pressed his lips to hers.

As their lips and breaths and tongues mingled together, Zayn leaned back, his hands going to Oakley’s hips, pressing her body tightly against his.

“Just so we’re clear,” Oakley gasped as Zayn let his lips press against her neck, “this doesn’t mean we’re going to get along.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled against her sensitive skin before pulling away and taking off her shirt, throwing it across the room.