For Fair Love

I exit Karen’s office and head towards the elevator. Instantly, Zayn appears, walking nearby. He raises his head and I shift my eyes to the elevator button.
“Chas, how are you?” Zayn asks, approaching me.
I give him a smile, “I’m good. You?”
“Same,” he replies, “What are you up to today?”
“Nothing really. I’ve just been talking with Karen.”
The elevator opens and lets us in.
“Then I guess you’ll spend the day with me,” he says.
“Oh…”
He grins and presses the main floor.

“How’d you end up with Harry?”
“Haven’t you heard the story?” I ask, grimacing.
“I have. It’s just I don’t picture you being his girlfriend.”
I dwindle, “Well, I’m not exactly pretty or—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Zayn cuts me off, “I meant you deserve better. Not that Harry’s a bad guy, you know, he’s my best mate. But, you’re a good girl. And Harry’s not really good with good girls.”
“Well, I’m forced to do this.”
“I know. It makes it worst. For you, that is.”
Zayn confuses me a bit, but I try to not think on it too long.
“I wish we could go back to Bradford and play football again,” he says, looking at me.
I smile or blush, I’m not sure.
“Yeah…” I trail.
“So that I can finally win a match.”
His warm smile pulls me out of my shyness. It makes me feel like we were friends for a long time. It feels normal to be around him.
“Eh, you wish,” I smirk.
“Let’s see then. Let’s go play some football.”

Within minutes, Zayn takes me to a nearby sports field. We enter the stadium and I stare at the green grass. He pulls out a ball and starts kicking it around. I slip out of my heels and run in the middle of the field with him, gaining adrenaline. I don’t even care that my bare feet are getting moist from the dew or that my skirt lifts in the wind. I race against Zayn for the ball. We battle on and on for it, laughing our heads away. I kick the ball away from his feet and hop over his leg, catching the ball. I run with it in the other direction, hearing him coming behind me. I try to speed up, glancing back to avoid his takeover.
“Ha! You can’t get me!” I yell back, about to score.
Suddenly I feel Zayn’s arms on me. He tugs me in the air, stealing the ball. The contact caught me off guard. After kicking the ball far off, Zayn lets me go and runs. Surprised, I just stay still. I can’t seem to move a muscle. I watch him run to the other goal, scoring. In the distance, I see Zayn wailing his hands in the air in victory. I smack back to reality.
“Foul!” I shout across the field.
“What?” I hear him faintly.
I jog up closer to him.
“I said foul!” I say.
“No way! I won. You lost,” Zayn grins.
I try to replay what happen in my head. But the whole thing seems blurry, so I let it go. I need to.
“Fine. Best two out of three,” I say, a little breathless.
He tries poking me.
“Eh,” I say, dodging.
“I’m just going to win.”
“You won’t be that lucky,” I retort.
He laughs and we get ready for another round. I take the ball between my ankles, guarding it as Zayn charges. I run pass him and flip the ball to the other side. Within seconds, I score. When I do my victory dance, Zayn laughs.
“You said best two out of three,” he reminds me.
I shake my brows and sneak a laugh, “I did.”
I play with the ball, tricking Zayn’s vision, and crack another score.
“Oh yeah!” I celebrate.
Zayn quits running after seeing my score.
“Not fair. I wasn’t even ready,” he complains comically, collapsing in the grass.
I scoff at him, joining him, “Too bad. You always have to be ready for a game.”
We listen to our breaths for a moment.
“Alright,” Zayn breaks the silence, “I’ll admit it. You’re a better footballer.”
His words make my face stretch a smile.
“Thanks, Zayn. You’re not too bad yourself.”
We stare in each other’s eyes for a longer moment.
“I like it when you smile,” he says.
His expression was a little more serious than before, almost thoughtful. Suddenly feeling shy, I look away. I get up on my feet and dust the blades of grass from my skirt. Zayn gets up too.
“Where you going?”
“Um, nowhere,” I say, not looking at him.
He takes me by the hand, turning me to look at him. My eyes lift to meet his. His face is suddenly close to mine. Things begin to stir in my belly. I don’t know what to do or say. He’s just too close. I take a step back, but he just takes a bigger step forward. His hands are as sweaty as mine. He keeps his eyes on me. My heart leaps in my chest as he licks his lips. Is he…
“Hey!”
Zayn and I both jump at the echo across the field. Someone was standing at the entrance waving an arm. Zayn drops my hands and clears his throat. Staring, I see… Harry? I gasp, feeling embarrassed, for some reason.
“I guess we should go,” Zayn says, walking ahead.
I quietly follow, trying to register my head back to normal. I retrieve my heels and put them back on.
“How are you?” Zayn asks Harry, once we reach him.
“Not great,” he answers with irritation in his voice.
I tense up when he shoots me a look.
“Why’s that?” Zayn acts casual.
Harry directs the conversation to me, “You do realize Karen’s going to kill us. We have reservations.”
My shoulders drop in relief. Okay, there’s nothing major to worry about.
“Oh,” I say, “I must have forgotten.”
“It took me ages to find you. Why are you guys even here?” Harry asks, rubbing his ear.
“We were playing football,” Zayn says quickly.
Harry looks at him, “I know that, but… Never mind.”
“I guess I’ll catch you later,” Zayn leaves, completely casual.
I’m still confused about what happened back there…
Harry looks back to me, “Let’s go, Chas.”
I stare at the ground, unable to fix my thoughts.
“Yeah.”