The Play Book

There was something about church that just left me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I don’t know if it was my dad’s voice as he preached to the entire congregation, the message he was sending, or the strong presence of God I felt every time I walked through the door, but I thought that my church was the best place in the world.

Honestly, I never wanted to leave, but when youth group let out on that Wednesday evening, I knew that I had to. My dad would probably stay at the church for the better part of the night, working on his sermon for the upcoming Sunday, but he would ring my neck if I stayed too late. He didn’t trust me walking home at night, even though our church was just a block away from our home. He was funny that way.

Walking out of the big double doors, I kept my leather bound bible held tightly to my chest as I breathed in the cool night air. It was so peaceful without a person or car in the area, and I simply walked down the sidewalk back towards my house, which I could see already had the porch light on that my mom used to guide me home.

I only had a few more houses to pass when a car stopped beside me, causing a chill to run up my spine. I lived in a relatively small town and knew a fair few of its citizens, but I didn’t recognize the car next to me. I did, however, recognize the person inside it.

“You need a ride home?” he asked, batting his eyelashes at me.

He spoke so quick and so smooth it was like he’d spoken those words a thousand times before, and chances were he probably had.

“No thank you, Zayn,” I said, sending my soft smile in his direction. “My house is just right there.”

He looked as if he was surprised I’d said no and I imagined he didn’t have many girls say no to him. Zayn was known throughout our school as ladies’ man and I had seen him more than once taking a girl home in that very car. He was smooth and charming and had a majority of the girls falling at his feet with one look of his honey eyes. I could see why, because he really was gorgeous, but I wanted no part of it. My father had always told me boys like him were dangerous.

He pursed his lips before smiling at me again.

“I guess I’ll see you in class then,” he said, as he tapped his fingers on his steering wheel.

I nodded. “You will.”

With that, he was driving back down the road, leaving me confused on the sidewalk. I had a reputation just like Zayn did, so part of me wondered why he would even try to talk to me. He was the bad boy and I was the good girl. I thought everyone knew that, but apparently he didn’t. He and I weren’t supposed to get along, and we certainly weren’t supposed to be giving one another rides home.

Shaking my head, I brushed off his sudden appearance and began walking back towards my house, ready for one of my mother’s home cooked meals. I’d have all during school the next day to wonder why Zayn had suddenly decided to talk to me after years of school together, and I would put that wondering to good use.