Caught in the Crossfire

The sunlight slashed its way through Oakley’s eyelids, tearing her away from what had previously been a somewhat peaceful sleep. She groaned to life, throwing her arm over her face to try to block it out, but the damage had already been done.

And once she woke up, the hangover wedged its way to the surface, making her head pound, her center of balance shift, and her stomach roll with nausea.

“I feel like shit,” she expressed loudly, figuring she was alone. Not that the exclamation made her feel any better, physically or emotionally, but she figured she had to make her state clear.

“That’s what happens when you down somewhere near five hundred shots.”

The sound of Zayn’s voice made Oakley startle as she turned to look at him. He was dressed in just a pair of gray sweatpants, and he was carrying two mugs of coffee in his hand. “Cream, two sugars,” he listed mechanically. “Just the way you like it.”

“Um…thanks,” Oakley replied, slightly surprised. She sat up, feeling a soft, knitted blanket slide down her torso and pool at her thighs. It wasn’t until Zayn arrived that she realized she was in his flat, crashed on his couch. God, that never happened. “What happened last night?”

Zayn sat down in an armchair across the room, as if he were afraid to sit too close to the brunette girl. “What do you mean?” he questioned, keeping his eyes on her as he tilted the mug back to take a sip of his own coffee, which he conveniently liked the same way as Oakley.

Oakley gave him an irritated look as she made a big show of looking around her, being as dramatic as possible without moving her head too quickly, as it made her head feel like her brain was swimming. Or, more accurately, drowning. “I’m in your house, on your couch. What got me here?”

“Oh. When we got back to the flat, you were totally out of your head, and you couldn’t stop laughing. It was almost like the fresh air made you drunker. And then you realized you didn’t have your key. So instead of breaking down your door at three AM, I brought you in here. And then you passed out on the couch.”

“Aw, Zayn!” Oakley cooed, smirking to give him a hard time. “You’re so caring and sweet to me.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I only did it because Mr. Fornacelli across the hall would hate us more than he already does if he woke up for his four thirty AM walk to find you passed out in front of his door.”

“Don’t try to make it seem like you don’t love me,” she teased, taking a sip from the burning coffee in her hands.

Zayn rolled his eyes and got to his feet, not bothering to fix his pants, even though they’d fallen down a bit as he sat, revealing a small sliver of the black band of his boxers. “You missed a call, by the way. This morning.”

Oakley let out a loud groan and put her head back against the couch. “Fuck. I missed all the fun.”

“Not that you’re in proper condition to fight, anyway,” Zayn reminded her.

“Whatever. I’d still have kicked ass.”

Zayn entered the room again with a fresh cup of coffee, re-taking his seat on the couch. “If you say so. But it was refreshing, working by myself. I didn’t have to worry about you or have to listen to you babble on about everything.”

“Oh, shut up. You love my banter.” Oakley narrowed her bright eyes at the dark boy across the way. “I totally enhance your game.”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he shook his head. “That’s definitely not the truth. If it were up to me, I’d still work alone. You’re nothing but a distraction.”

“Oh, is that what I was when I warned you that someone was about to attack you from behind? Or the time that I read that psycho’s mind and knew he was about to blow up the bank? Was I a distraction then?”

“You’re always a distraction,” he responded slowly. “But sometimes, you prove to be a useful distraction.”

She didn’t know whether that was an insult or a compliment, so she kept her mouth shut for once in her life.

A silence ensued, so Oakley abided her time by taking a few more sips of her coffee, almost reaching the bottom, where there was the syrup-like substance that had settled while they had a conversation.

“So can I use your shower?” Oakley asked with a smirk.

Zayn immediately shook his head, a single piece of hair coming loose from the rest and resting on his forehead. “No, definitely not. You can go home.”

“But I don’t have my key! And I really need to shower. I smell like booze.”

“I’ll knock down your door,” he insisted, getting up and pulling up his sweatpants even higher than they’d been when he first woke up Oakley, resting only an inch or so below his navel.

“It would be so much easier if I could use your shower, Zayn,” she argued before putting on a little smirk. “What? Does it bother you, the thought that I’m going to be only a few feet away, completely naked?”

“Shut up, Oakley. Of course it doesn’t. I just don’t want you using my stuff. God knows what you’ll do with it.”

She got to her feet and gathered her long hair so it spilled over one of her shoulders. “You could join me, you know. If you wanted to.” To make him squirm a little more, she walked over and put a hand on his chest, looking up at him with eyes that would make any other guy in the world weak at the knees.

But he just grimaced and shrugged her away, weaving from underneath her touch. “Cut it out.”

“Are you a virgin?” she teased.

He gave her an irritated look and an abrupt head shake before answering, “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not.”

“Mmm, a man who knows what he’s doing.”

“This is sexual harassment,” he told her stiffly. “I’ll report you.”

“To who? You’re supposed to be the superhero, Mr. Shadow Fighter.”

He brushed by her without answering her question, going straight for the door and across the hall to take care of the door business.

Oakley snickered to herself as she followed Zayn out to the hallway. God, how she loved to watch his face get red, to watch him squirm with awkwardness when he spoke in that voice to him. When all of her other techniques to get under his skin failed, that hit the jackpot every time.

Still smiling, Oakley walked into the corridor just in time to see Zayn ram his shoulder into the door without much of a head start at all. The door gave immediately, snapping open, the lock popping off, the pieces scattering around her cream-colored carpet.

“Show-off,” she muttered under her breath before walking past him.

His only response was to go back into his own flat, slamming the door shut.

“Moody little bitch.” Oakley rolled her eyes and shook her head in irritation before stepping into her home and propping the door closed behind her.