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book was gone.

They‟d started running out of shelf space, so they‟d sold a bunch of

books to make room for new ones, yeah? And somebody‟d bought the

book, and they‟d paid in cash so I couldn‟t even find their name to try

to get it back.

“A couple of months later, I was just sitting around my apartment

watching telly when somebody knocked on the door. I almost didn‟t

open it because I wasn‟t expecting anyone. I don‟t know why I

answered the door, but in the end I did. And there was just this... man.”

Zayn can feel himself starting to smile now, not at any of them but at a

fixed point high on the wall opposite him and the memory of a warm

hand and a crinkled up smile. He knows himself, knows his brain and

knows that he could wax poetic about Liam for hours if anyone would

let him. He once got drunk and spent the entire night hunched over

Louis‟ coffee table rhapsodising, half sloppy poetry quotes and half

long-winded descriptions of the shape of Liam‟s lips. Louis has never

fully recovered from what he claims was a “traumatic life event” and

still flinches any time anyone says the word supple. Zayn‟s learned to

try to keep most of it reined in, even if it is his own personal ongoing

literary masterpiece.

He pulls the memory of that night up again for the millionth time. By

now it almost feels frayed at the edges, worn in and comfortable,

himself barefoot in bleach stained track bottoms and Liam in the dim

light of the hallway, collar of his t-shirt pulled too far over on one side.

“He was gorgeous,” Zayn tells them. “These big brown eyes that were

just like, you could tell he was the nicest person on the planet just from

looking at them. Just standing on my doorstep in jeans and a t-shirt,

smiling at me like we‟d known each other forever, and he hands me the

picture of my mum. Says he bought the book a few months ago but

didn‟t find the picture until last week, and he thought I might like it

back, so he went to the library and got my name and address from their

records. And I just sort of... gaped at him until he shoved the picture

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into my hand and managed to get my head sorted enough to thank him

before he left, and then he was gone, and I didn‟t realise until ten

minutes later that I hadn‟t asked his name. Literally the perfect man

showed up on my doorstep—gorgeous, nice, reads fucking Yeats—and

I just let him walk away like an idiot.

“And then, right before Christmas hols, a transformer blew right in

front of the school and the fire department came. They sent one of the

blokes in to check to make sure no students were hurt, and it was him.

In full fireman gear. And he remembered me. Stopped what he was

doing and went out of his way to come talk to me, shook my hand,

apologized for not introducing himself before, told me his name was

Liam Payne.”

“And then,” Louis puts in, “you decided that the best way to his heart is

to spend the rest of your life creating small emergencies so you have to

call the fire department, instead of asking him to dinner like a sane

person.”

“It sounds worse than it is when you put it like that!” Zayn says,

dropping his eyes to glare at Louis. “I don‟t even know if he likes men

yet! This, this is destiny. This is my Pride and Prejudice, all right, and I

only get one shot at it, and I‟m not about to fuck it up by going for it

too early. I‟m just, you know, nudging destiny along a bit.”

“You could also fuck it up by giving him the impression that you‟re an

arsonist. Generally a turn-off for a person who saves people from fires

for a living,” Louis says. “Jane Austen never tried to cause a chemical

explosion in the science lab.”

“You can‟t prove that was me,” Zayn says. “Look, I‟m just saying,

there‟s no way this was all a coincidence. One day everything is going

to fall into place, and it‟ll just happen perfectly, and okay, maybe I

have to have a cig under a smoke detector or two for that to happen.

I‟m only a man, Louis. Who am I to argue with destiny?”

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“Holy shit,” Harry speaks up finally. And then he leans forward in his

seat and says, “How can I help?”

“Oh God,” Louis groans, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “Don‟t

encourage him!”

“But this is brilliant, though!” Harry says. “Besides, didn‟t you hear?

I‟m not encouraging him, I‟m encouraging destiny, you scrooge.”

“I‟m not a scrooge,” Louis huffs, “I‟m a realist.”

“You are, though! You‟re Ebenezer Tomlinson,” Zayn agrees with

laugh, and Harry laughs too. Louis is looking at Zayn like he‟d like to

strangle him with his scarf, which just makes Zayn laugh harder.

“The scroogiest,” Harry adds.

“I like this one,” Zayn says, extending a fist to Harry, and Harry

doesn‟t miss a beat before bumping his own knuckles against it. “I

think we‟ll get on just fine.”

“Great, now I‟ve got two daft romantics getting feelings all over the

place,” Louis sighs. “This won‟t do at all. Niall, tell me you still don‟t

give a fuck about anything but where your next meal's coming from.”

“I think you‟re all mad,” Niall says with a shrug. “You too, Louis.

You‟re mad for caring so much.”

“Shove off, Horan.”

Niall just shrugs again and goes back to his chips.

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“Anyway, as I was saying before I was ruthlessly betrayed by everyone

in this room,” Louis says, adjusting his glasses with what he must think

is utmost dignity and switching his attention back to Harry, “the point

of all this is that once a term there‟s Fire Safety Awareness Day, and

they send a couple of firemen to come talk to the school about not

setting your mum‟s drapes on fire or whatever—don‟t get any ideas,

Zayn—ow!”

Zayn just grins as Louis makes a production of rubbing his shin where

Zayn kicked it under the table. Justice served.

“They always send Liam because he‟s so good with the students,” Zayn

tells Harry. “He‟s charming.”

“He‟s hot,” Louis says. “They‟re almost as bad over him as they are

over you.”

“Can‟t blame them really,” Zayn says.

“I don‟t know if that was a reference to your fireman or your own

vanity,” Louis says, “but either way, ugh.”

“You‟re just as vain as I am and you know it,” Zayn says. “Don‟t make

me dig your Bebo back up, because I will.”

“I don‟t know what you‟re on about,” Louis says, kicking him back. He

glances at his phone, checking the time. “Well, if we don‟t leave soon,

you‟re going to miss your chance to talk to your man before the

assembly, and as much I loathe assemblies, I do so love watching you

melt into a warm, stuttering puddle of pomade.”

“Shut up,” Zayn says, but as he‟s getting out of his chair he feels his

heart already starting to kick up into his throat a little. It‟s kind of

ridiculous, really, because he‟s spoken to Liam dozens of times before.

The time with the flooded basement, both times Louis‟ cat got stuck up

a tree. They had a really nice conversation about ceiling tiles that one

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time someone—Zayn‟s not saying who—called in an anonymous

report that the sprinklers in his hallway weren‟t up to code. They‟re

friendly acquaintances by now. Zayn has plenty of friendly

acquaintances. He‟s a grown man and he‟s pretty damn far from a

blushing virgin by now in any regard.

So it‟s ridiculous that by the time they reach the theatre and Zayn‟s

eyes hone in on Liam in a t-shirt and the bottom half of his fireman

suit, his entire brain has gone fuzzy.

“Go on,” Louis says, pushing Zayn in Liam‟s direction. “Go say hello.”

“Right,” Zayn says. He sets his shoulders. He can do this. He is sex on

legs. Lesser beings fall in his path.

He makes his way down the aisle while the other three slide into a row

of seats near the front. Liam is in the middle of a conversation with one

of the other firefighters, looking as always like the world‟s most

attractive boy-next-door. But in a fireman suit. Zayn wonders what he

ever did to deserve this.

He‟s been rehearsing for days exactly what he would say. He‟s recited

it in front of the mirror a thousand times, practiced exactly what the

look on his face should be when he says it. It‟s the perfect opening line,

smart and casual and just funny enough to be intriguing.

As he‟s on the last few steps, Liam turns and sees him and breaks into a

grin, and Zayn cannot for the life of him remember what the hell he

was going to say.

“Hello,” he says lamely. He can‟t feel his face.

“Hi, Zayn!” Liam says, reaching out to shake Zayn‟s hand. “How are

you?”

He doesn‟t know. Zayn does not know how he is.

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“All right,” he manages.

“Glad to hear it,” Liam says, and he actually sounds like it. “Ready for

the assembly?”

“Same every term, isn‟t it?” Zayn hears himself say and immediately

wishes he could take it back because why the fuck did he say that?

Now just he sounds like a fucking dick.

Liam just laughs, though, unfazed. “Spot on. I love talking to kids, but

between you and me, I‟m getting a bit sick of reading these cards.”

“Cool,” Zayn says. “I have to go now.”

Liam looks a bit disappointed, but Zayn‟s tongue is stuck to the roof of

his mouth and he‟s already slowly backing away. “Oh, okay!” Liam

says. “Good to see you!”

Zayn turns and flees back up the aisle, already thinking about the bottle

of vodka in his freezer at home. That was it. The thing he‟s been

working toward all week, and he fucking blew it, again, because he

always blows it, because he can get anyone in the world to fuck him

except for the one person in the world who actually matters. He should

be studied by scientists, honestly. Something is wrong with him.

“How‟d it go?” Louis says as soon as Zayn sits down between him and

Niall. Harry‟s leaning forward in his seat on the other side of Louis.

“Leave me alone,” Zayn says, trying not to sound as miserable as he

feels.

“Did you tell him you‟d like to slide down his pole?” Louis says.

“Shut up,” Zayn says.

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“Did he ask to climb your ladder?” Louis asks, poking Zayn in the side.

“You‟re not funny,” Zayn says.

“You should ask to see his hose,” Harry chips in, and Louis looks like

he‟s just won the fucking lottery.

“I hope you all die of dysentery,” Zayn tells them.

At least, Zayn thinks, he may not be floating alone in this particular sea

of despair for much longer. He can see the way Louis looks at Harry,

the way his elbow is hanging over Harry‟s side of the shared armrest,

the way he laughs when Harry leans in and says something in his ear in

the middle of the assembly. It‟s too early to tell, really, but he makes a

mental note, sets the date of Louis‟ downfall some day in the near

future.

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