"The instructions for the project are on the back of these sheets. Please grab one per group at the end of class."

Mrs. Williams raised the big stack of papers and put them on the empty desk closest to the door.

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

The bell had just rung. As everyone was leaving the classroom, I approached Mrs. Williams' desk. She looked up from her computer.

"Oh, hello Alex. Is there a problem?"

Another deep breath.

"Mrs. Williams, I can't do the project."

She raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?"

"Because I can't work with Zayn."

Both her eyebrows were now raised.

"I'm sorry Alex, but if you don't get this project done, you may not pass this class. It's worth sixty percent of your grade."

"Can I work alone?"

She shook her head.

"Why?"

"Zayn will never do this project by himself. I need you to keep him in check."

In other words, she wanted me to do the project and have Zayn sit by me, hitting on pretty girls. Great.

"And who knows? Maybe you'll find a friend."

Double great. Even my teacher knew I was friendless.

---

"Hey! Wait up! Alex!"
I turned around. Zayn was running towards me, full-speed across the basketball court. School just got out, so no one was playing yet. He caught up to me, panting.

He smirked.

"So, we have to do this project together, right?"

He smirked. Probably expecting me to bow down at his feet for actually talking to me.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand to stop him.

"Look," I started, "you don't like me, and I sure as hell don't like you. So we don't we cut the crap, and go to your house today to start working on this stupid project. The sooner the better."

His expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"I don't hate you. And my car is over that way. I'll meet you over there."

He pointed in the direction of a blue Corvette.

Damn.

I would have to make sure to not let him see my blue pickup truck. I rummaged through my my bag to find my phone. I grabbed it, sent my dad a quick message, then ran over to meet Zayn by his car. He was in the driver's seat already, looking impatient.

"What took you so long? Are you a slow texter or something?" He snapped impatiently. Woah. Rude.

I sat down in the passenger seat, and closed the door. The ride was awkward and uncomfortable. Neither of us talked. When we finally pulled up in front of his house, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now we would at least have something to talk about.

I took a closer look at his house. It was on the larger side, definitely bigger than mine. It had at least three floors with dark purple shutters. It looked warm and cozy, definitely not Zayn's type. I couldn't remember a time he wasn't wearing something dark. We stepped out and Zayn took out his keys, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

"Well," he said, "This is my house."

Notes

Whooooops I think I accidentally rated my own story lololol. Can you guys please please please rate/comment and vote? I dunno if this story is good and I don't want to keep writing it if nobody reads it, ya feel me? So thankssss. :) x