You + Me + Him

Spring 2015

“I’m getting a condo. Move in with me,” Zayn Malik said to his best friend Alyssa Rossi as he walked into her bedroom without knocking, immediately flopped down onto his stomach on the bed.

“What? No,” Alyssa laughed at him as she sat on the floor in front of a floor length mirror applying her makeup.

They’d been friends for almost a decade and Alyssa knew almost immediately that moving in with him would probably be one of the worst decisions she could ever make. It wasn’t just because he was completely irresponsible, it was also because she’d been in love with him pretty much since the day they met. And she knew if they were to move in together she would never be able to get over her feelings for him.

“Come on, Lyssy,” Zayn whined. She hated it when he called her Lyssy, but didn’t mind so much when he was begging her for something.

“Zayn, I’m not moving in with you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes.

“Why not, Alyssa?” He continued to whine, looking offended that she would dare turn him down.

“Because I’m not going to lie in bed at night listening to you screw random girls who just so happen to be your flavor-of-the-week,” she told him with a scoff.

“But you could be the bird in my bed,” Zayn said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

And as shameful as it made her feel, her heart did flip-flops in her chest as a low heat started to rise within her thinking about all the nights she already spent in his bed.

“Been there, done that. I can be in your bed and still live here,” Alyssa retorted, shrugging it off as best she could.

“Alyssa Michelle Rossi! Why won’t you move in with me? Really. What’s the real reason?” He asked firmly, no doubt expecting an answer that second.

“What? You don’t think my reason is valid?” She asked, heightening her eyebrows at him in protest.

“No,” he scoffed, sitting up quickly on the edge of her mattress.

“Too bad for you, Malik,” she told him, letting out a mischievously laugh as she applied her mascara.

“I don’t know why you put on all that makeup, Lyss. You’re just as pretty without it,” he huffed with his arms crisscrossed tightly across his chest.

Alyssa paused for a moment, looking at him through the mirror, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious. If he was, it was probably one of the sweetest things he ever said to her. She watched as his eyes met hers, catching a slight glare in them. He was being pissy with her, she was sure of it. His little back-handed comment was meant to spur her, not compliment her.

“Ha,” she laughed as she rolled her eyes and went back to doing her makeup.

She knew just how superficial and fickle he was. If she had any chance with him, it wasn’t going to be walking around the streets looking like she just rolled out of bed.

Zayn had been her love-interest for as long as she could remember. Unfortunately for her, she was never that high on his radar. Sure, they lost their virginities to each other at the age of seventeen in a night of drunkenness, and over the past four years have slept with each other more times than she could ever keep track of. Though sex was never the only thing she wanted from him. But Zayn always had another girl waiting around the corner – another girlfriend to make Alyssa cry herself to sleep over.

Their relationship was complicated. Outsiders would say Zayn had her whipped – that she would give up everything at the drop of a hat for him. And she supposed it was sort of the truth. She loved Zayn since she was thirteen years old – since he moved into the neighborhood. He’d say ‘jump’ and Alyssa would ask ‘how high?’ It was pretty much how things worked with them. And most of the time she was okay with it.

Her other friends and people close to her always wondered why she put up with his bullshit. He wasn’t exactly reliable or nice sometimes, but that was Zayn. He was spontaneous and wild, and he was someone Alyssa couldn’t live without no matter how hard she tried. He always said something or did something that would cement her feelings for him, and she knew she would be his forever.

Summer 2009

“Have you ever been drunk before?” Zayn asked Alyssa as they sat in his basement in the TV room watching the Will Ferrell movie Step Brothers.

She was sixteen years old and he’d known her for the past three years – when did she have the time to get drunk without him knowing it?

“No. Have you?” She asked as she sat next to him on the sectional couch.

“I’ve tried beer before, but I’ve never been drunk,” he told her with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Was it gross?” Alyssa asked, really concerned that she was so behind on the ‘drinking’ front. She never even tasted it before.

“Yeah, but my mum and Des have some vodka upstairs. I saw it the other day,” Zayn said, smiling mischievously at her.

Just the thought of doing something so daring and adventurous got her blood going. She loved being mischievous with this boy. She would probably do anything if it was fun and he was asking.

“What are you saying?” She asked, eyeing him with the hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Drink with me,” he said quickly as he stood up from the couch.

“You know your mom and Des are right upstairs though,” she reminded, but he just passively shrugged his shoulders.

It was past eleven o’clock and his family were all in bed – except for Harry, Zayn’s fifteen-year-old step-brother. But they could have easily woken up at a moment’s notice and caught them doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing – like drinking. It was so like Zayn to disregard the consequences. He never thought about what would happen if he got caught.

“Harry is in the other room,” Alyssa pointed out.

“So what? He’s a dork,” Zayn scoffed with a daring smile.

“Dude, the first thing he’ll do is tell your parents,” she added in.

“So what? We’ll be drunk,” he laughed, really not giving a shit about any of the negatives she was throwing at him.

“Yeah and we’ll have to suffer the consequences when we’re sober,” she pointed out.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there – if we get there,” Zayn said, standing up, grabbing her hand before pulling her to a standing position.

“If we get there? Like, we’re going to get murdered by your parents?” Alyssa asked wide-eyed.

“No! Alyssa, come on. I thought you liked having fun. Come on. Have fun with me,” he chuckled as he pulled her toward the stairs.

“Zayn, this is a bad idea,” she grumbled from behind him.

“We’re sixteen and we’ve never been drunk. Live a little,” Zayn said, pulling her by the hand up the stairs with him.

“There’s a reason that twenty-one is the legal drinking age,” she added in, although she already knew in the back of her mind she would drink with him. She never quite learned how to say no to him.

“Alyssa, just tell me… do you want to have fun with me?” Zayn asked in his usual manipulative way.

“Of course I want to have fun with you—” She started to say.

“Good. Come on,” he said, pulling her into the kitchen.

“—but this isn’t the fun I had in mind,” she said, eyeing him as he pulled out the bottle of vodka from the top shelf of the cabinet.

“Seriously, Alyssa. You need to pull that stick out of your bum. How long have you known me? Three years? I’m surprised I haven’t rubbed off on you yet,” Zayn scoffed.

Alyssa rolled her eyes at him, feeling a little annoyed that he would refer to her as having a stick up her butt. She did everything he wanted, usually without complaint.

“You’re ridiculous,” she scoffed back at him as he pulled out two glasses from the cabinet.

“What do you want to mix it with?” Zayn asked as they walked over to the fridge and began digging around in it.

“I don’t know. I don’t drink, Zayn,” she told him, giving the back of his head a confused look.

“Orange juice?” He asked, holding it up in his hand.

Alyssa shrugged her shoulders at him and he took it as a ‘yes’. Like she knew what would taste good with something that smelled like rubbing alcohol.

“Orange juice it is,” Zayn said with a wicked smile, closing the fridge, turning toward her with the jug in his hand. He filled their glasses practically half-full with vodka and the rest of the way with orange juice.

“Are you trying to kill me? That’s a lot of vodka,” Alyssa hissed, looking at him incredulously, her eyebrows shooting up as high as they could go.

“Lyssa, just drink it,” he said, sending her a bored look as he slid the glass over to her on the countertop.

“You first!” She told him, pushing his glass closer to him.

“Fine,” he said, grabbing it before taking a big swig. He made a face, but played it off like it didn’t taste like the most lethal thing he ever drank.

“It’s good,” he said, and she could tell immediately that he was lying through his teeth. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at how badly his expression was selling him out.

“Shhhh, you’re going to wake up mum and Des,” he hushed her by quickly clapping his hand over her mouth. Alyssa pried his hand away from her face as she giggled quietly.

“Your face was classic,” she snickered.

“Your turn,” he said and picked up her glass, handing it to her as he cocked his eyebrow at her in challenge.

It was a bad idea and Alyssa knew it. But just about anything seemed worthwhile when she was doing it with Zayn. Reluctantly she took a sip and felt the bitter burn all the way down her esophagus.

“Zayn, that is disgusting!” She hissed at him and he shushed her again.

“Just shut up and drink it. We’re gonna have fun,” he said, taking another gulp.

It took a while for Alyssa to drink her glass, but she finally choked it down. Zayn finished his in half the time and harassed her to drink hers faster. He made them each a second glass and they ended up finishing those too, making a drinking game out of it while they finished watching Step Brothers. Every time the brothers got into a physical fight, they had to take a drink. Then it turned into every time the brothers argued, they needed to drink. And once they were already on the verge of being drunk, they just threw in that they’d drink every time somebody swore, which was so often that they ended up finishing their drinks before the movie was even over.

At twelve thirty, Harry came out of the music room to find the two of them doubled over in laughter after Zayn smacked his head on the coffee table.

“You guys are being loud,” Harry grumbled, looking at them like they were the most ridiculous people on earth – which they probably were in that moment.

“Oh, sorry, musical prodigy. We’ll quiet down so you can write your symphony in peace,” Zayn snarked, rolling his eyes, taunting his step-brother, using his gift of music as an insult.

“Zayn, be nice,” Alyssa said, smacking his arm.

God knows if they weren’t nice, little Harold would probably march straight upstairs to his daddy’s room and tell them all about what they were doing. And they both knew they got into enough trouble with each other sober. They didn’t need their parents catching them drunk.

“Are you drinking?” Harry asked as his eyebrows furrowed when he picked up Zayn’s empty glass, sniffing it.

“Give it back, Harold!” Zayn yelled, using the nickname Harry hated so much. He used to always yell ‘my name isn’t HAROLD’ at the top of his lungs ever time Zayn would call him it as a kid.

“Zayn, shut up!” Alyssa growled at him, trying to keep him in line.

“I can’t believe you’re drunk. Where did you get the alcohol?” Harry asked incredulously.

“The kitchen,” Zayn snickered.

“You guys are stupid, you know that? Really, really stupid,” Harry scoffed, glaring at Zayn disapprovingly before turning it on Alyssa.

Why was this kid making her feel so immature? But truth was, Harry was ten-times more mature than her and Zayn combined. When she and Zayn got together their IQ’s dropped. They were practically mental with each other.

“Go to bed,” Harry snapped at them.

“Shut the hell up, Harry! You go to bed,” Zayn snapped, making a move to shove him, but Harry easily stepped out of the way causing Zayn to nearly fall off the couch and hit his head again.

“Stupid,” Harry said under his breath as he rolled his eyes.

He set Zayn’s glass down on the coffee table and stalked out of the room, thankfully for their sakes, only heading upstairs to bed. Alyssa and Zayn sat silently for a few minutes waiting to hear the wrath of their parents if Harry went to wake them, but it never came. They were safe.

“I am getting kind of tired,” Alyssa told Zayn after Harry blew her buzz.

“Yeah, me too,” he said quietly as he grabbed the remote, turning off the TV.

“Come on,” Zayn said, shutting off the light once he reached the stairs.

“Zayn!” Alyssa shrieked because she was still trying to navigate out of the room, and the pitch black wasn’t helping her one bit. She heard Zayn’s laugh before he flipped the light back on.

“Dick,” Alyssa grumbled under her breath as she shoved him, which only made him laugh again.

The process of walking up the stairs proved to be no easy feat in the state they were in. They had to coordinate their feet, their brains and their voices as to not wake up the parents – not easy at all. Alyssa tripped going up, catching her toe on the lip of the step. She reached out to grab what she could so she wouldn’t fall, and ended up grabbing onto Zayn who was in front of her, unintentionally causing her to practically tackle him down onto the stairs.

“Fuck, Lyss,” he grumbled, muffling his laugh as he turned his body toward her while her body lay atop his.

“Sorry,” she said before the giggles began rolling out of her.

“You’re out of control,” he laughed, clamping his hand against her mouth once again, stifling her manic giggles. She quickly pried his fingers from her mouth, sending him a glare.

“Stop that,” she snapped, swatting at him, but he grabbed her wrist easily before she made contact.

Alyssa’s breathing caught in her throat as her eyes met with Zayn’s and he stared back at her. Only then did she feel the intimacy of their situation, and it made everything inside of her take notice. She was lying atop the boy she loved for three years. Their faces were so very, very close to one another’s. If she moved her head forward one more inch their mouths would be touching. All of the daydreams of kissing Zayn flooded her mind in that moment and she wanted it to happen more than anything.

“Lyssy…” He breathed, his tongue darting out, swiping across his lips, completely teasing and taunting her.

“I hate that nickname,” she told him, her voice coming out breathier than she wanted it.

“I know…” He said, looking at her dead in the eye, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.

Zayn’s face was beautiful from afar – from a safe distance she could easily stare at him without him knowing – but nothing could compare to seeing him up-close. He was borderline perfect. He had his little quirks of course, but all his flaws just made him that much better. She was hooked.

He blinked his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as he did, and he had her mesmerized. Seconds later his lips were on hers and she was literally dying. She couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t her first kiss, but it was definitely the best.

His lips were soft and supple – everything she ever imagined they’d be. The kiss was tender at first – just their lips pressing together in slow motions before it grew into a life force all its own. When Zayn’s fingers sunk into the back of her hair and his tongue slipped into her mouth, sliding with her own, she was screaming internally. It was the best thing that ever happened to her since she developed the stupid crush on him, and she was beside herself with desire for him. She relaxed against him, and their bodies melded perfectly together as they lay atop the stairs. She would have sold her soul to the Devil for that kiss to never end.

But Zayn pulled away sooner than she hoped for and looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in question. She was completely silent. She didn’t want to screw anything up by talking. She could only hold her breath as he looked into her eyes. She felt so entirely vulnerable, like he was about to chastise her over the kiss – even when he was the one who kissed her. He wasn’t saying anything, and she wasn’t saying anything. And she couldn’t breathe.

When he leaned in again, meeting his lips with hers again, Alyssa went straight to Heaven. She was certain she would never recover.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Zayn’s seventeen-year-old sister Doniya interrupted them.

The two of them shot apart from each other faster than the kiss happened, seeing Doniya standing at the top of the steps. She was in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head, having obviously just woken up.

“What are you two doing?” Doniya asked, looking so entirely confused from finding them in such a compromising position.

“Nothing,” Zayn snapped as he stumbled to a standing position, leaving Alyssa where she was. She was frozen. Something magical just happened to her and well, like she said, she died.

“That didn’t look like ‘nothing’,” Doniya said with her hands on her hips, staring down at the two of them. She was almost eighteen. She knew all about hormones and pheromones and sexual tension. She wasn’t born yesterday.

Zayn scoffed as he stalked up the rest of the stairs, pushing passed Doniya, making his way to his room. Alyssa’s heart stung as she watched Zayn disappear. He didn’t even bother to help her up. He just left her there to fend for herself with his god damn older sister with the judgmental eyes. Alyssa pulled herself to her feet as Doniya watched her. When their eyes met, they just kind of stood there silently for a beat too long, making it ten-times more awkward.

“You okay, Alyssa?” Doniya asked, concern washing over her features.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” she lied, looking away from her, avoiding eye contact at all cost. She was too embarrassed.

“Need some help?” Doniya asked as Alyssa stumbled up the rest of the steps.

“I-I’m good,” she said, gripping on to the banister, bypassing Doniya altogether as she made the same trek Zayn did toward his room.

Zayn was throwing off his shirt and immediately stripping out of his pants as Alyssa turned the corner into his room. He was left in only his boxer briefs before he tugged on a pair of pajama pants, leaving Alyssa completely breathless. She saw it all before – every inch of skin he was showing, anyway – but it always got to her. Always.

“Maybe you two shouldn’t share a bed anymore,” Doniya pointed out as she walked up behind Alyssa in the doorway of Zayn’s room.

“Shut the hell up, Doniya,” Zayn grumbled as he crawled into his bed, throwing the covers over himself.

“Believe me, we’ll be fine,” Alyssa said, turning to tell Doniya.

When Zayn got in his little pissy moods, there was no getting him out of them unless he wanted to. Alyssa had no chance of being kissed again – at least not that night.

“Be careful, Lyss,” Doniya quietly told her.

“I’ll be fine,” Alyssa sighed.

Alyssa’s eyebrows knit in question as Doniya turned and made her way back down the hallway toward the stairs where she was headed in the first place before she caught her and Zayn making out. She couldn’t figure out why Doniya thought she needed to say something like that, like she was warning her or something. She tried to shrug it off as best she could because she was pretty drunk and her head seemed like it was spinning, but she was certain her words would circle her brain for longer than she cared to admit.

Alyssa quietly changed into her pajamas, completely sure that Zayn wouldn’t dare turn around because he was sulking for whatever reason. She didn’t understand him sometimes. Once she was changed, she crawled in next to him and shut off his bedside lamp.

With the lights out and her eyes closed, the spinning of her head only seemed to get worse until it actually felt like she might fall. That was when she realized it had to do with something more than the whiplash Zayn gave her when his mood did a one-eighty. The alcohol was leaving her thoroughly fucked up – enough for her to be unable to close her eyes without feeling like she was dying.

“Zayn…” Alyssa whispered through the darkness.

“Hmm,” he grumbled.

“Do you feel that?” She asked vaguely.

“Feel what?” He snapped.

“Everything is spinning. Make it stop spinning,” she whined, pressing her palms to her forehead, her fingers gripping onto the hair on the top of her head.

“Go to sleep, Alyssa,” he grumbled at her, completely disregarding her dilemma.

“I can’t close my eyes. I think I’m gonna be sick,” she groaned, feeling her mouth salivating more than usual – a surefire sign that the vomit was coming.

“You better not puke in here!” Zayn shot at her, turning to look at her incredulously through the dark.

“I… ohh,” Alyssa groaned as she ripped the sheets off of her body and got out of his bed.

She stumbled her way out of his room, into the bathroom just in time to upchuck the entire contents of her stomach and then some into the toilet bowl. Halfway through her exorcist-like hurling, she heard someone come into the bathroom.

“Zayn…” Alyssa moaned into the toilet bowl.

“No,” she heard and turned to find Harry standing there looking at her, concern written all over his face.

“Oh, Harry. Go away,” she whimpered as the tears began to stream out of her eyes. She hated puking, so much.

“You’re sick, Alyssa,” he pointed out obviously.

“No shit,” she grumbled as she hovered over the toilet trying her best to keep from puking again.

“Do you want some water?” He asked, his voice soft and nurturing.

“Just go away, please,” she cried.

“I’ll get you some water,” Harry said before he quickly left the bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and two small tablets, ignoring her pleas to leave her alone.

“Ibuprofen,” he said, handing both the glass and the pills to her.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting back against the wall with her legs sprawled out on the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

Harry slid down next to her, holding his knees up against his chest before wrapping his arms around them.

“Why did you drink, Alyssa?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence as she greedily swallowed down the water in the glass.

“Zayn wanted to,” she told him with a shrug as she set the empty glass down between them on the floor.

“If Zayn jumped off a bridge—” Harry started.

“Yes, Harry! I would jump off the bridge with him! We’d probably have fun!” Alyssa told him, annoyed with the stupid go-to question. He wasn’t the first one to spew that exact same line to her over the years.

She got it. She knew she did stupid shit on a whim with Zayn – for Zayn, but she didn’t care. She loved every second of it – except for times like these.

“Why do you do all this dumb stuff with him?” Harry asked curiously.

“Because he’s my best friend and I love him,” she told him flat out. What other explanation did he need?

“I think you’re blinded by love… or lust… or whatever,” Harry said, sounding way older than he really was.

“Don’t talk to me about love or lust or whatever, Harry,” she snapped at him, seriously about to punch him if he said one more word about her and Zayn.

“Alyssa—” Harry began to argue.

“Just shut up,” Alyssa said, sitting forward, ready to get up to go back to bed.

But seconds later, all the water she just drank came back up and she was hurling into the toilet again. Harry held her hair back and she cried real tears into the toilet – not only for the discomfort she was feeling, but because it should have been Zayn there, not Harry.

In the morning Alyssa woke up in Harry’s bed, which confused the hell out of her. Harry was asleep on his floor, and she had no recollection of how she got from the bathroom to his room in the first place or why Harry would decide to let her stay with him, giving up his bed to her.

Moments like that – seeing the softer side of Harry were few and far between after that. It seemed his opinion of Alyssa spiraled throughout the years, until he no longer had anything nice to say to or about her. She and Zayn were like a thorn in his side – a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

“Earth to Alyssa,” Zayn said, waving his hand in front of her face.

“What?” She asked, snapping out of the daze she was in.

“Why won’t you move in with me?” He asked again, still stuck on a subject she already disregarded.

“God, are we still talking about this?” Alyssa grumbled, rolling her eyes as she zipped up her makeup bag. A second later, she pulled herself to her feet, standing in front of Zayn.

“Yes! I need you, Lyssy,” he whined, trying to get to her by exploiting her weaknesses. He knew exactly which buttons to push to get what he wanted in the end.

“Never call me that again and I’ll think about moving in with you,” she told him, half-joking half-serious.

“You’ve got it, Alyssa!” He laughed, finding amusement where she couldn’t.

That fall, Alyssa found herself moving all her worldly possessions into a three story, three bedroom condo with Zayn Malik, her best friend – the object of her desire. Although they would be sleeping in separate rooms, Alyssa couldn’t help but feel that maybe it was one step closer to getting everything she always wanted.

Notes