Chapter Four: Late Nights

Sweltering was little to tell of the heat killing me. Sweat lined every possible fold of my body. I threw the bulky comforter that trapped my head off my sweaty body.

Afternoon naps were good bipolarity inducers. You wake up sweaty and annoyed, isn't that living the dream?

My eyes cracked open but were snapped back closed by the burning light engulfing the room from the lamps. My stomach grumbled at the lights on my behalf.

The famine in my abdominal cavity was another reason why utterly despised afternoon naps. All my food gets digested while I'm out cold.

I opened my eyes once more, readjusting to the brightness with painful determination.

"Milan Andrea Mayfield!" Mom glared at me with arms crossed from the door. "I've been screaming your name for so long"

Her frown was testament.

My mother was a traditional one. Strict and Overbearing. She could be unorthodox at times but mostly, Anything slightly disrespectful could call for forced emancipation.

I flashed mom an apologetic smile. "Dinner's almost ready. Fix up before you come downstairs" I nodded.

When mom's footsteps had retreated far away and I couldn't hear it's noisy thump, I fell back flat in my bed and reached for my phone.

13 unread messages.

That was new.

I barely got texted by Sarah due to my boring nature and I hadn't gathered a huge armory of friends to warrant popularity but there I was, a phone bearing 13 whole messages.

It was a feat.

Excitement and inquisitiveness won over Consideration as I unlocked the rectangular object and pressed for the reason.

HernameisLorraine2: I promise you are going to regret bullying me.

HernameisLorraine2: I'll make sure your social status plummets so low you won't show your face again.

That one made me laugh. There was no reducing my social status lower than it had already been. Nerd/ Geek was already the lowest part of the ladder, there was no lower than that. Not like the social hierarchy ever bothered my wellbeing.

HernameisLorraine2: I'll make your life hell

HernameisLorraine2: You'll be begging for forgiveness.

HernameisLorraine2: Just hope your sharp mouthed friends are there to help you out of this.

HernameisLorraine2: I hate you.

HernameisLorraine2: Fall in a ditch and die.

My jaw was hanging off spittle threads at the last message. I was cooked. Lorraine's ego was hurt far worse than I'd imagined.

She didn't retort to the normalized fake account. It was her real Instagram. She was fearless.

I was disturbed but moved on to the other texts. They came from the group Chelsea made as soon as we swapped cell numbers. We put the Nerds in Fun, she named it.

Sarah: Who else received the dumbest text from Lorraine?

Chelsea: I did. I almost choked mid guffaw.

Sarah: She said I should fall in a ditch and die. Not before she does.

Chelsea: I totally agree.

Chelsea: What happened to Lorraine the nice blonde girl?

Sarah: Milan calls it the Zayn disease, it happens to the best of us.

And the final one

ZaynDavenport: We need to talk.

Of all the messages, Lorraine's death threats included, the last interested me the most.

My interest peaked at the sight of the name.

Me: What about?

I gave myself an internal high five at how curt it was. I didn't want Zayn to think my insides were distorted at the sight of his text. Which they weren't.

I was shell shocked. Zayn and I didn't direct message one another. Any insults or Academic information were shared via email.

I nabbed my phone again.

Me: How did you find me?

After seeing to it all texts were replied, I slid off my bed and into the bathroom. The mop of hair on my head had no solution to it, therefore I pulled what I could in a ponytail and abandoned it. Mom wouldn't bother as long as there wasn't hair in her soup.

"What smells good mom?" I moaned as I ran down the staircase.

The aroma was teasing my digestive organs.

"You mean what smells good dad" Cole, my brother said.

Yes, I have a brother. To be clear, we're nothing alike. He's blond. I'm a proud red Head. And the bastard sucked all the height out of the family. He and Dad are the only two who can reach the top cabinets in the kitchen.

He was setting the table and doing a quite mediocre job at it but correcting him meant consenting to involvement which I didn't want so I feigned obliviousness.

Dad could totally eat his noodles with a serving fork.

"Dad's cooking?" My jaw dropped in unadulterated shock.

My father was a business man. His company was his mistress and he nursed her very well. The few times he showed his face at home, he was leaching off mom. Dad couldn't flip a pancake right.

The one time I saw the man actually try to cook was at my lovely grandparents cabin and that was a distant four years ago.

"Yes, I am" Dad chimed in, brushing away his blonde hair from his eyes which was overdue for a cut.

I sauntered over to the kitchen to ensure a chef wasn't hiding underneath the counter and switching places when we looked away for long enough. I peered over the sizzling pots and pans.

Pasta was in the works and the flour powdered over his apron and mom's back pocket answered my question. He was making an attempt to cook for his family.

"Dad, quit fooling us. Is this takeout?"

"Same thing I asked" Cole barked out a laugh.

The man in question only rolled his eyes and returned to his 'professional' cooking. I pecked him on the cheek in appraisal and walked back to the dinning room where mother dearest and Cole were on their devices.

"How was school sugar pie?" Cole crooned. With the intense quirk of his lips, it seemed one way or another, he discovered my newfound enemy.

"Ineffable, Colander" My evil smirk countered his profoundly.

"You little..." His once pride glinting eyes reduced to slits.

Colander—Cole. My parents couldn't have named him any better. He was as useful as a colander too.

My phone vibrated in my lap.

ZaynDavenport: The project.

You're not really hard to find. Your name is MilanMayfieldRules.

His accuracy was annoying.

A breath left my lips in what I could only describe as relief. I had assumed he wanted to speak about how unkind I'd been to his leading lady.

My reaction would have led to a fight of some sort and Zayn would probably warrant an apology which wasn't going to give. I could imagine us breaking out into a fist fight in my lot and as expected, I'd pummel him to the ground.

"Stop smiling at me creep" Colander splashed my face with water. The chilly sprinkles pricked my cheeks.

"Mommy! Cole's bullying me" I whined.

Mom groaned. "Cole, Milan, I don't want to hear a sound from either of you"

I rose my hands in defeat and zip locked my lips. Now, back to the problem at hand.

Me: When?

He replied almost instantaneously.

ZaynDavenport: Now would be fine.

Me: It's 6 o clock. Normal people are asleep by now. We can speak tomorrow. Goodbye Davenport.

ZaynDavenport: No one sleeps by six, unless you're an alcoholic. And, I don't really want to have any conversation with you at school. Lorraine has a bounty for who brings your head to her.

I smiled. Zayn cared that much for my wellbeing. Lorraine could try as much as she wanted to Unalive me. My dad's influential and my mom's a Lawyer with mother syndrome. She wouldn't make it past the airport.

Me: I don't fancy exchanging words with you either princess. Pick me up by 8, any later and I'll begin the first chapter all by myself.

ZaynDavenport: Deal, Mayfield.

It was 7:23 and I was in peril. A girl's real problem, picking out an outfit. It was a real struggle for those of us without stylists.

I was simply being picked up by Zayn to speak about a dumb project, I didn't need any form of aesthetics. I'd told myself that several times but I still tossed more clothes from my closet unto the disarray on my bed.

Each outfit I professionally pieced together either seemed too Causal or not causal enough. Frustration was beginning to claw it's way into me with each discarded outfit.

Time was also speeding by. Maybe I could text Zayn not to come over and to begin the chapter himself because at that rate, I wasn't going to leave the house.

Or i could throw F's in the air and show up in my rabbit pajamas.

"Mayfield, I need your charger" Cole strutted into my room. He looked around, a quirked brow up. As expected, his oddly sharp brain caught on quickly to the situation much to my displeasure. "Date?"

"No. For both of them" I grunted.

"Forget about the charger. Where are you going?" Cole's eyes shone with excitement or mischief or both.

"Its business"

"Business my ass. You don't earn money and By 7 pm? C'mon, I'm not mom and dad"

My only source of wealth was dad's bank account.

"And I'm not lying" I returned to my quest for a good outfit by being a sitting duck amidst mounds of clothes.

"Sure sure. What are you aimed at?" Cole plopped on the bed, stroking his chin.

If he aimed at an Olivier pose, he flopped the look.

"Casual, not casual" I observed the mountain of clothes that hadn't crossed the standards and gave into letting Chi chi Cole Mayfield fish for the right outfits to stuff me in.

Note: I did not trust him.

Cole moved swiftly around my room, making approving noises. The appointed time was fast approaching and Cole hadn't produced anything yet.

7:40

"I don't have forever colander"

"Shut it, you can't rush beauty." He approached me with a heap of bunched up clothes. "Here, try that on and thank me later"

I flew into my bathroom.

"Perfecto" He exclaimed in a farce French accent when I exited the bathroom modeling the clothes.

"Good God Colander, you sure know how to put together an outfit" I twirled in the simple light wash denim shorts, polo neck and Jacket.

How didn't I think of that.

The polo neck was lying around when he picked it up. Denim shorts were In the mound. I didn't even own a denim Jacket.

"You can thank Holly"

Hmmm. Holly, was Cole's girlfriend, a sweet soul really, not just one I liked.

I stifled my grimace to spare Cole's feelings.

“I should really thank her. I was planning to pull out the rabbit pajamas"

He grimaced. “You're a lost cause sis. And yes, I will be telling Holly that you're grateful" Cole smiled dreamily. It provoked nausea in my alimentary canal.

My phone pinged. "Is that him?" Cole's voice had become gruff. Of course like any other brother he grew protective over me.

"Mind your business colander" I shoved him out of my bedroom, chucking my charger at him before racing for my phone.

ZaynDavenport: I'm here.

I took one last look in the mirror and stumbled out of my room and house. A black Chevrolet Cruze reeved in the shadows. Only when I stepped under the dim light of my street did Zayn drive forward.

His car was a gleaming diamond in my lot.

"Mayfield" He acknowledged with a cheeky grin. I did same, with a nod instead of showcasing my dentition.

I made myself comfortable in the passengers seat. Zayn's car was...well... it was immaculate.

The cost irradiated in its polished leather seats, smooth rev of the engine and noise blocking windows but other than the odious stench of wealth, the car lacked much personality. There were no stickers, CD's overflowing out of the dashboard, Cables discarded like snakes. It was odd to not find any of the normal junk in my car in there.

"Beautiful evening, Isn't it?" The boy sure had a thing for exercising his cheek muscles with that much smiling.

"It's would have been even more beautiful if I wasn't forced out of the comfort of my home to talk about fictional characters"

He chuckled. "They aren't fictional if they're us"

"I'm pretty sure they are. They might be us but both their lifestyles and actions will be crafted from scratch" I stated. Zayn seemed to think a little, rubbing the imperceptible stubble on his chin while he worked the gears in his brain.

"They don't have to be, I mean, we can do a full on autobiography" He smiled suggestively. Definitely not.

Artificially or not, I was never going to imagine a life where I was infatuated with Zayn Davenport. Oh, the torture.

Lorraine was already living the highlight of it.

"Don't get any crude ideas, pervert" I looked away from Zayn's glittery deceptive eyes to the perfection of my parents lawn. "Can we go somewhere else, I take it you didn't drive all the way here just to stare at my house"

"Sure. We need food too"

The ride to a McDonald's was long and eerily silent. Zayn vetoed any form of conversation seemingly savouring the silence. I came to an inevitable realization that Zayn, just like me wasn't very conversant and pretended to be busy on my phone.

I was shredding candy crush level by level. At my place, I could win a Guinness world record.

Soon enough, without any fractured body parts and overused expletives, we arrived at the place which at the fairly late time had a swamped parking lot.

Parking was a bitch.

Zayn suggested I waited in his car while he ordered the food his reason being I could get stuffed in the back of a random car by a log of a man in tattoos.

His broad imagination interested me. It might be more useful in our novel for Fictional Milan and Zayn's adventures than I'd imagined.

Sitting in the warm, soft seats of Zayn's car that sported his masculine scent was suffocating me. He smelled like the male species, something strong and intoxicating. I bet Lorraine Martyed for it.

I could picture the awe on her acne free face at the sight. My unintended shock scared a poor passerby.

Her texts embedded in my head made me chortle at how insubordinate I was, Zayn was buying me a midevening snack for goodnesses sake.

Lorraine would probably feed me into an inferno in the most disturbing way possible if it she somehow found me.

"That was quite the night rush" Zayn grunted as he ingressed his car, fat stained paper bag on par.

The scent of a freshly warmed up burger sifted up my nose. I hated forgetting my morals In the presence of food but all that faded when the grease touched my fingers.

Late night burgers tasted more flavourful than daytime ones. Or maybe it was because I wasn't seated in one of the grimy booths, glaring at customers for the fun of it. Instead, I was in a car as clean as a nursing home watching Zayn tear apart a burger which probably messed with his dietary requirements.

“Take it easy tiger” I chuckled. I had knowledge on the heimlich, and would watch him choke to death if lettuce went down his trachea.

“It'll get cold” Zayn looked up.

He looked messy.

School poise died at school, I guess. His hair wasn't gelled back with concrete strength wax. Let's not comment about the patty juice smeared at the corner of his lips.

“A cold burger is better than having ‘Choked to death' on your autopsy”

“What makes you think I'll have an autopsy?”

The answer was in plain sight.

“Because Milan Mayfield and Zayn Davenport are in a car together. Suspicious enough, don't you think. Then, all of a sudden, you die. I'll be prime suspect”

Zayn laughed, resting from his burger. “I think we just found the plot for our book”

I shook my head. “Our genre is Romance”

“Romeo and Juliet died in the end. It was romance nonetheless”

“I'm not a fan of morbid romance”

He picked up his large again. “What a waste of a great plot”

The silence intensified. I could hear myself chewing. The darkness in the car didn't help one bit.

"So, do we just sit here and contemplate what our project is going to be about?" I asked, counting the cars in the parking lot.

"That or we could order slushies and watch the stars"

Which was what we did.

Zayn was smart enough to bring a notebook to pen down any ideas that came about as we drank round after round of mango slushies.

No progress was made to our impending project as we explored various topics we normally wouldn't with the likes of one another on the bonnet of Zayn's pretty car.

"We could do this every night you know" Zayn smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. We were oddly close to one another, The bonnet didn't house much space leaving us squashed together, thankfully, our faces were a reasonable distance away.

I hated Zayn, obviously, but that wasn't a barrier from staring at his lips.

"We could but then I would get tired of you and stop showing up"

"You couldn't do that even if you wanted”

"Really? Please do indulge me on why I wouldn't get tired of some mediocre Boy in Jeans and a hoodie" I said with forced enthusiasm. Zayn's face stretched with a smile.

"Because we're friends in an odd way and you care way too much about some dumb English literature project than anyone else" If it was possible, his smile got bigger.

“You wouldn't be interested if it was dumb”

Zayn leaned in and plucked the tall cup of my Slushie nestled between my fingers. "I'm not"

He shook it with a skeptical but serious look on his face, gradually moving the straw closer and closer to his lips.

"At least change the straw," I groaned. I respected the fact that Zayn the kleptomaniac had gotten himself my slushie but I could not bear the stomach wrenching act of us sharing a straw.

It was crossing the line of enemy friends.

Zayn didn't seem to care, poking at my emotions by thrusting the straw closer and closer to his lips at an alarming pace just to pause when the infected straw had touched his nose to switch them.

"Everything about you is cringe worthy" I glared at Zayn as I hopped off his monster of a car. "Enough enduring you for a day, take me home"

"Aye aye, Milie.”

Did I ever mention Zayn's car was high off the ground?

I wanted to ask for help but my self-reliant nature would shrivel up and die.

“Need help?”

No, I didn't.

I clambered and clawed but there was no way down without getting a concussion. “No”

The cycle went on for a while. He'd offer, I'd resist and almost fall and he'd ask ag

ain.

“Just admit that you need help sometimes”

I was ready with an opposing speech but Zayn beat me to it. He spooned me off his bonnet and dumped me into the passenger seat.

“I didn't need help” I pouted.

“I didn't like that burger”

That was random.

“What?”

“Oh, I thought we were lying to one another”

There Went placidity, I missed it already.