Chapter Text
This is how it starts. It begins with a lie, so pay attention.
Above all else, remember to pay attention. Because you must remember: some people lie to forget the past, and some lie to forget the present. You can't always judge them for it. Because anyone who lies on a daily basis, the people who can do it without batting an eye, without letting it ruin them or blacken their hearts, those are the people who need it the most. They don't do it to hurt anyone, or even to hurt themselves. They just do it because they have to.
The problem is that when you lie so much you can't remember the truth, can't remember who you are, you forget what it feels like to live life without the lies. You forget how to be honest at even the most basic level. You'll tell anyone the sky is green, until you're blue in the face, convince them until even you're sure of it, just out of pure habit.
When something begins with a lie, when the very foundation of what something is turns out to be a lie, it's fractured before it even begins. That doesn't mean it's broken, or irreparable. It doesn't even mean it won't be beautiful. But it's not whole and it never will be, until you address it and find the truth in it.
They start with a lie.
So be smarter than Harry and Zayn. Pay attention.
***
Harry can't decide if he wants to peruse the new arrivals first, or head straight to the left of the registers, towards the fiction section to haphazardly look at book titles and find one that looks interesting. It's either go with the flow of the bookstore and work his way section by section, or just go to the new arrivals like everyone else and be force-fed the newest and best, the shit everyone in class will be pretentiously talking about, the sure-to-be Times bestsellers. Communication majors always like to think they're way more intellectual than they actually are, which Harry would hate on, except here he is in a fucking bookstore, trying to find books to pretentiously talk about himself, so. Pot meet kettle, whatever.
Harry can be indecisive, so he bounces from foot to foot, antsy, not knowing which way to go. It's as he's deciding, feeling the pull within his brain over which direction to head, left or right, when he sees him.
The most beautiful creature Harry has ever seen is standing in front of him, head bent over a book in the biography section, near the new arrivals. That pretty much takes away the need for a decision, as Harry swiftly walks towards him. He pretends to look over the shelves, even picks up a random book to pretend to read the back of, so he can look at the guy to his right.
He has black hair, the most gorgeous skin Harry's ever seen, skin that reminds him of the homemade caramel his mom makes. He wonders if it tastes just as sweet, if touching his arm would make his fingers sticky. He's a tad shorter than Harry, thin, but solid. Harry sees a small bird tattoo on his hand, peaking out from under his jacket, as he turns a page and glances up. He sees Harry looking at him and he seems slightly startled.
Harry's never been very shy, so he sends him a warm smile, before glancing back to the book in his hand. He would stare at this guy all day if he could, but he can't be weird about it. He flips a few pages before looking back up, just as the guy also glances back at him, the stranger's cheeks reddening. Harry wants to ask his name so badly, he feels like the question is about to burst out of him.
He puts the book back on the shelf, as he slides closer to the guy, as the guy inches closer to him. Harry's giddy now, can feel the pull between them. They're about to speak, he knows it. He doesn't know who's going to pluck up the courage first, but it's about to happen. He feels hot.
The guy looks up at him again, a smile on his lips, and Harry knows: this beautiful stranger is going to talk to him first.
Harry's about to open his mouth, to prepare his hello right back, when the guy suddenly gets a stricken look on his face. His eyes are zeroed in on something over Harry's shoulder, something Harry can't see with his back towards the front of the book store. The guy looks panicked, like he's seeing a ghost, or an axe murderer, or some combination of both. Harry's about to glance back, to see if the place is about to be robbed or something, but before he can, the stranger frantically looks him in the eye and shakes his head.
Now Harry's just confused, as his face falls. Something is wrong and whatever it is, it's made this hot stranger start to breathe heavier, drop the book he was holding. He fumbles around, bends to pick it up. Harry doesn't know if the guy is panicking, if he's some straight kid freaking out over a dude smiling at him, so he's just about to give up and walk away, when the guy is suddenly in his space, right next to him. Harry can smell his cologne, the cigarette he probably had before coming in here, the coffee on his breath.
"Please don't leave," the guy says, as his arm touches Harry, both of them facing the biography section now. Harry still hasn't looked over his shoulder, still doesn't know what's happening.
"Uh," Harry starts, not knowing what to say, pulling at the strap to his bag over his shoulder.
"I'm Zayn. Can I ask you for a huge favor? Please?" he begs in a whisper, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye, as if he's about to cry.
Harry doesn't even answer, doesn't have the chance to, when someone behind them speaks.
"Zayn?"
The voice is over their shoulders, accompanied by footsteps, a man getting closer. And before Harry can react or ask this Zayn person what's happening, he feels Zayn swiftly slip his hand into his, linking their fingers. Harry's caught off guard, holding hands with a complete stranger. He also vaguely thinks they fit somehow, that their hands, while foreign to each other, actually make sense when wrapped together. Zayn doesn't even look at Harry's face, he just holds his hand tighter, and turns both of their bodies towards the front of the store, towards the voice.
"Liam!" Zayn says with a grin, face suddenly bright and open. He looks the exact opposite of what he was expressing literally seconds before. He looks excited, happy, on top of the world.
"I thought that was you," the guy says, hands in his pockets, eyeing the two of them. Harry has to admit, he's hot. He's well built and Harry is pretty certain this guy could lay him the fuck out if he had to. But he doesn't look warm, or friendly.
Harry feels Zayn tensing next to him, even with the smile on his face telling the world otherwise.
"Yeah, just looking at books today, you know," Zayn says, still smiling. Harry stands there like a fucking idiot, holding a stranger's hand. He still feels overheated.
"So who's this then?" Liam says, eyes traveling to their hands, and then up to Harry's face. "I didn't realize you were… with anyone."
Zayn squeezes Harry's hand tightly, as his smile falters for a fraction of a second, as he looks up into Harry's eyes. Harry knows he's silently pleading, asking him for help.
Harry almost laughs then, at how perfect the situation is. Of all the people in this bookstore, the fact that Zayn chose Harry to hold hands with, is a fucking miracle. Zayn doesn't know it yet, but Harry Styles is the best fucking liar on the planet.
The fire is lit, Harry knows then. The fire underneath him is lit and he's ready to go. So he looks at Zayn and smiles that smile, the smile that's gotten him out of every traffic ticket he's ever had, the smile he's used to get out of every random bedroom he's ever found himself in. He nudges Zayn with his hip playfully, before turning back to Liam.
"Hey man, I'm Harry," he says, still smiling, reaching out to shake his hand, before getting a fierce look in his eye. "And yeah, he is with someone."
"Oh," Liam says, not even pretending to hide his surprise. "That's really - good. Good for you, Zayn."
"Yeah, thanks," Zayn says back, nodding, grasping Harry tighter. He's still asking for help, Harry can tell.
"So how did the two of you meet? How long have you been together?" Liam asks, now with a slight smile, still looking at them like he can't believe it, still wanting answers. Harry's a good liar, the best liar, and he knows when people think he's lying, when they're trying to trap him, make him stumble his words, force him to let up and tell the truth. He knows when he has to make it extra air-tight. So he's not worried. He can do this in his fucking sleep.
"We met at a party, actually, a few weeks back. Not far from campus. My friend had a class with Zayn and invited him. In fact, we met in the kitchen, right as this one tried to take beer from my hiding place. I caught him just in time though, the little sneak," Harry says, with that glint in his eye that says I dare you to ask more questions, try me. He looks to Zayn then and pouts a little, nudging Zayn again, to make him smile bigger. Zayn's grateful, so he smiles and bites his lip.
"Oh, that's… really great," Liam says, shuffling his feet now. Harry's ruffled him. The lie came out perfectly. He thinks they're in the clear.
"Yeah, so. We should probably -" Zayn says awkwardly, pointing towards the back of the bookstore, trying to get away.
"Of course, you need to go. You two look so cozy together, I shouldn't keep you," Liam says, a smile creeping back onto his face. He's about to turn away, when he drops the bomb. "Oh Zayn, I almost forgot. I was supposed to invite you to Ruth's engagement party tomorrow night, but I didn't have your new number. I know we're not like, together anymore, and it might seem weird… But you know my family loves you. She'd love to see you."
Harry narrows his eyes at Liam. So they're exes, and this guy is inviting Zayn to a family function while he's holding hands with someone else. How charming.
"Uh, well -" Zayn starts to say, a quick look of panic on his face. Because of the smile he's held so far, the ease with which he's been standing, Harry thought he'd met another grade-A liar. But now he's nervous for Zayn, afraid he'll falter. He's about to step in, when Liam does first.
"I mean, you don't have to or anything. But you know my mom would love to see you. And you can bring Harry here, if you'd like, since you seem so happy," he says, smiling sweetly at Harry.
Harry fucking hates this guy already. He can't let him win, let him have the upper hand. He feels protective of Zayn now.
"Oh that's nice of you," Harry replies, smiling back, as he pulls Zayn closer, now wrapping his arm around Zayn's waist, crowding as close to him as humanly possible. "You wanna go, babe? We can go if you want."
Zayn looks into his eyes, grateful again, moving his hands up to Harry's hips. He slaps on a smile, and Harry knows for sure now: Zayn's a great fucking liar too. He might even be as good as Harry.
"Yeah we can go," he says, moving his hand up and down Harry's side, turning to Liam. "Tell Ruth we'd love to come, thank you."
Liam finally seems too uncomfortable, seeing them standing so close, watching them look at each other like they're about to go fuck in the back room or something. He clearly thought they'd say no, or would make it awkward, or Harry would get mad at the situation and leave. He looks nervous. Harry savors the energy around them, knowing they won. He wants to take a shower in it, lather in it, eat it, fuck it, it feels so good.
"Okay, so… you know where the house is. Come by at like seven," Liam says, slowly starting to back away. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He gives a weak wave before finally exiting the book store. Zayn lets out a huge breath and steps away from Harry. He sounds like he just ran a marathon. Harry still feels the high of a good lie, the high of winning, of besting someone when they don't even know it. He's always loved that feeling. So he smiles at Zayn.
"So where's his house? Is it far from campus?" he asks nonchalantly, putting his hands on his hips.
"Wait, what?" Zayn says, finally regulating his breathing, turning to look at Harry with wide eyes.
"And what does one wear to an engagement party, anyways? I don't think I've ever been to one."
"Harry, seriously. Thank you for doing that, for letting me totally suck you into that shit show. But you don't actually have to go to his house with me, I'll just lie and say we couldn't make it, if we ever run into each other again. You don't even know me," he says in a low voice, cheeks reddening.
"Fuck that guy, you can't let him make you feel like shit. And I know you now," Harry says with a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Zayn."
Zayn finally smiles back. "You too, Harry."
They stare at each other, both smiling like idiots.
"So are you picking me up before the party or what?"
"Are you sure? Because honestly, Liam is… Liam. He's my ex boyfriend, and it was messy, and he makes me feel crazy," Zayn says, tugging at his hair. "I hate that he almost saw me looking like a fucking loser. But it's not fair to drag you into it."
"Nah, it's cool. I don't mind. He seems like a prick. So if you need someone to pretend to be your boyfriend, I can be whatever. I'll be the opposite of him," Harry says, moving closer to Zayn now. He won't fully admit it, but he'd love to throw a few more awkward moments at that Liam guy, even if they're fake. He'd love to win again.
"Really? You don't mind helping me out?" Zayn asks hopefully, moving closer to Harry. He whispers, "I really would love to shove it in his fucking face, show him I'm fine, better even, without him."
"Then let's show him."
"Okay," Zayn says with a smile, looking at his feet. "Thanks."
They exchange numbers and addresses, right there in the bookstore, standing close. Zayn says he'll pick Harry up the next day at 6:30, before thanking him about twelve more times for helping him.
Harry's actually excited for the party, if he's honest. He's taken acting classes before, and he's a communication major. He could sell water to a fish, could lie his way out of a stressful situation with his eyes closed. He also thinks, as he walks back towards his apartment twenty minutes later, down the streets near USC, that regardless of the circumstances, he was always planning on talking to Zayn in that bookstore anyways.
So if it happened with a lie, no harm, no foul.
***
Harry puts the finishing touches on his outfit at 6:15 the next night. He's wearing black skinny jeans and a black button up, with a slick black suit jacket. He tugs at the sleeves, looking at himself in the mirror by his bed, pretty happy with the results. Harry knows he's always looked good in all black. It takes his sweet face, the dimples, the curls around his ears, and suddenly makes him look darker, deeper even. He knows when he wears all black, he could smile the right way and get whatever he wanted. In fact, he has, many times.
Harry's lived in LA his entire life, and he knows how to work a room, how to use his face to his advantage. He's been charming his way into Hollywood clubs since he was seventeen. The first time he smoked a cigarette was on a club patio, mere feet from Lindsay Lohan, which was a fucking trip. He told people about that for weeks afterward, telling them about how he got Lindsay's number and partied with her at the Chateau for hours.
No one had to know she barely glanced his way. She actually looked straight through him, if he's being honest with himself. But Harry Styles has never let that stop him, or his epic stories, before. He blew a guy in the bathroom of Club Villa a few years ago, but the way he told the story to his friends afterwards, you would've thought he blew the fucking President, gotten his number, and was moving into the White House.
Because see, Harry's a great fucking liar. And it makes him feel good to tell a delicious lie and get away with it.
Once he's in Zayn's car twenty minutes later, he tugs at his sleeves again, now getting slightly nervous. He knows he can do this, can be whatever Zayn needs him to be for a room full of people. But Zayn makes him antsy, he knows it already. Zayn is gorgeous and nice, the type of guy who reads biographies in bookstores, when guys like Harry are only there to impress people.
"So thank you, again. For doing this," Zayn says, one hand on the wheel, the other smoothing the stubble on his chin.
"It's not a problem. I mean, I figured we'd do something a little different for our first date, but whatever. Here we are," he says with a smile, staring at Zayn's hand moving across his jaw and cheekbone. Harry takes in the tattoos on his forearms, the sleeves of the white button up he's wearing pushed up to his elbows. He looks fucking good.
Zayn huffs out a small, nervous laugh. Harry can't help but smile, knowing he makes Zayn nervous too. It's comforting.
"So tell me what the deal is, before we get there. I need your back story," Harry says, businesslike.
"Well like, we dated for a long time. And he broke up with me like six months ago, which fucking sucked," Zayn says, turning left, looking away from Harry. Harry can feel his palms sweating slightly, at the mention of them dating for a long time and then being broken up with. The feeling does suck. It really fucking sucks, it breaks you. He knows that feeling all too well. He shakes his head, breezing past it, forcing himself to focus.
"No, come on. I need to know who this fucker is, what he's like. If you want to win, if you want to have the upper hand, I need to do everything the opposite. I need to be better than he was to you. So tell me, give me info. I'll make it useful," Harry says, turning towards him.
Zayn frowns slightly, both hands on the wheel now, knuckles white.
"If I want to win? Okay. Okay, that makes sense," he says, setting his face fiercely. "Liam is… Liam. We were together for two years in high school, and then the last two years here in college. We were supposed to move in together, actually. But he's a fucking dick. He would boss me around, but then complain that I didn't make decisions. He'd want me to surprise him, and then hate whatever I did. He wanted me to be forceful with him, take charge, and then get pissed when I'd try to tease him. He didn't remember anything I told him, anything I liked. He never listened. He forgot my birthday one year."
Harry feels his hands shake slightly, anger coursing through him. He doesn't even know who the fuck Zayn is, or why he feels so angry for him, but he's angry. He can't wait to make Liam squirm.
"When is your birthday?"
"January 12th."
"Noted."
"Yeah, so. He probably hates you, hates that I moved on so quickly. He probably thought I'd be a mess over him for years. Honestly, so did I… But the fact he even saw you with me, probably made him mad," Zayn smiles to himself, turning the car again.
"Tell me more, tell me things he forgot. Tell me what you like, tell me who you are," Harry says quickly, grabbing the armrest, as Zayn smiles again. Harry stares at him intently.
"Okay, well. Um. I like action movies, but I also like romantic movies, I guess. I draw, I like to paint. I smoke, which he hates, but I can't fucking help it. I hate working out, especially running. It's the worst. I hate whiskey because it reminds me of my grandpa, who became a dick whenever he drank it. My parents are fucking awesome. I have three sisters. I love sleeping in late. I take long showers. I'm studying to be a teacher. I'm from the valley, from Sherman Oaks, and I love it, so don't make fun of it in front of me. Liam hates the valley, he thinks it's lame. Uh, that's all I can think of," Zayn says, as they pull up in a neighborhood and park in front of a massive house.
"I got it, that's good," Harry says, nodding. In addition to being a great liar, Harry also has a perfect memory. He's got this.
Zayn's smile gets smaller. Harry doesn't know if he's nervous, if he's rethinking this whole pretending thing, or if he's not confident in Harry remembering anything he's even said. Regardless, no matter what's making his face fall, Harry hates it.
"You ready? Are you sure this is okay? I don't even know anything about you, fuck," Zayn says in a rush, finally looking at him, brow furrowed.
"Zayn, we got this. Let me do the talking, if it helps. I know we don't know each other or anything, but I want to help you. Fuck this guy, right?" Harry says, grabbing Zayn's hand, squeezing his fingers.
"Thanks. Fuck him," Zayn says back, smiling, squeezing Harry's hand in return.
***
They stand on the front porch of the massive lit up house in Beverly Hills, the sounds of a party coming through the windows. Harry realized as they got out of the car that they had hired a valet service for this party, and it's so fucking pretentious, he can't wait to spew lies all over it.
He also realized, as they walked towards the house, what he needs to be tonight.
Because Harry's perceptive. Zayn is tough, sure of himself, cool as all hell. But he needs someone to look after him, someone who cares about what he says, what he thinks, someone who wants him with every ounce of their being, like a fucking crackhead needing a hit. Clearly this Liam guy was too self involved. They were together for too long. Liam got too wrapped up in who they were supposed to be together, to actually love and appreciate the person Zayn is. Harry has to be attentive, caring, but not too over the top. This is Zayn's world, Zayn's the boss, but he needs to be there and be present. He knows Liam's already jealous. He just has to let it happen, let who he is at his core, the kid with the curls and the smile, to come through. He can do this.
Zayn rings the doorbell and takes a deep breath. Harry grabs his right hand and links their fingers together, right as Liam opens the door in a crisp black suit.
"Zayn, you came!" he says with a laugh, letting them into the house.
"Said I would, right?" Zayn says with a big smile, holding his hand tighter, gesturing to him. "And you remember Harry from yesterday."
"Harry, of course. I'm glad you both could come," Liam says politely, leading them into the dining room.
Just then a few squeals come from the kitchen, as three women rush into the dining room and grab at Zayn, hugging him tightly. Harry just lets go of his hand and gets his arm back, sure that it was almost ripped off by various body parts flying at Zayn. Liam's mother, most likely, kisses his cheeks about four times each, while two other women tug on his hands, asking a million questions, one of them showing Zayn the ring on her finger. They begin pulling him into the kitchen. Harry watches with a smile on his face, aware that Liam is watching him.
"My mom and sisters," he says dumbly, as he stands there next to Harry, a drink in his hand.
"I thought so," Harry smiles, turning to him.
"I don't know what Zayn's told you about us, but we were together for a long time. He was always really close with my family. They miss him," he says, like the conversation isn't weird at all.
"He told me. He was actually really excited to come tonight, to see them."
"Good."
Liam follows them into the kitchen, moves around various people chatting and drinking, so Harry follows. Once there, he sees Zayn surrounded by the three women, one trying to push a plate of food into his hands, as he politely declines and smiles.
"Is this him?" the oldest girl says, smiling at Harry.
"Yep, this is Harry," Zayn says nodding at him, as Harry makes his way over and crowds next to him, grabbing his hand. He shakes the hands of the three women, Karen, and her daughters Ruth and Nicola, still aware that Liam is watching from the other side of the kitchen, near the alcohol.
"Oh I'm so glad you have someone, Zayn. Liam's an absolute idiot, as you well know. So good for you, for finding someone. You're very lucky, Zayn. He's so handsome!" Liam's mom says, holding his arm, smiling at Harry.
"No, ma'am. I'm the lucky one," Harry says, before leaning in and sweetly kissing Zayn's cheek, lingering for a second.
The three of them absolutely die at that, hugging the both of them. Harry distinctly sees Nicola look over at Liam with a look of disgust. He can't help but smile at that.
Liam finally comes over, trying to cut in.
"Can I get you a drink, Zayn? Harry? We have it all."
"I can get it, thank you. No need to worry about us," Harry says, as the three Payne women look at them. "I'll get you a drink, babe."
"Anything but -"
"Anything but whiskey, I know, babe," he says, dramatically rolling his eyes towards the ladies, kissing him on the cheek again.
Harry smiles again, as he walks over to the bar area, pouring himself some wine into one glass, and a vodka soda into the other. He hopes Zayn likes vodka. Liam comes to stand next to him, eyes in slits, staring daggers at him.
"He doesn't like wine," Liam says in a low voice, as Harry grabs the two drinks.
"I know, the wine's for me," Harry says sweetly, looking Liam in the eye. "I know what he likes. Thank you, though."
Harry brings Zayn the drink, which Zayn thanks him for, grabbing his hand again. Ruth shows them her engagement ring some more, telling Zayn all about the proposal. Her fiance comes over and she introduces them. He seems like a nice guy, Harry can tell. People keep coming up to talk to Ruth and Nicola, so Harry and Zayn try to excuse themselves.
They head into the living room to where music is playing, but Karen comes with them, holding Zayn's arm.
"So tell me how you two met," she says, pulling them towards the wall near the staircase. Harry can still see Liam in his peripheral vision, still watching them, listening to them talking, eyes still in slits. He's had more than a few drinks by this point, and Harry fucking loves how uncomfortable he is.
"Well," Zayn starts, smiling at Harry.
"We met at a party, actually, a few weeks back. Not far from campus. My friend had a class with Zayn and invited him. In fact, we met in the kitchen, right as this one tried to take beer from my hiding place. I caught him just in time though, the little sneak," Harry says, verbatim to what he told Liam just yesterday. Liam takes a drink to their left, trying to move closer.
"I'm so glad you found someone, Zayn. Really," she says, holding his arm tightly. "Liam's missing out. Don't you let him go, Harry. He's one of the good ones."
"I won't," Harry says quietly, resting his forehead against the side of Zayn's head for a moment.
"He's a good one too, Karen. Swear," Zayn says, kissing Harry on the cheek this time.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Liam leave the room.
Harry fucking loves winning.
Karen excuses herself, to go back in the kitchen and check on the food, to see if anyone around needs more drinks. Liam's dad quickly says hello to Zayn and Harry, as he follows Karen around, greeting more people. Technically since they're alone now, and Liam's not around, Harry could drop Zayn's hand, or move away from him slightly, but he doesn't. He doesn't feel like it.
"Thank you again, for being here," Zayn whispers into the air between them.
"Of course, Zayn. It's actually been kind of fun," he whispers back, smiling.
Zayn laughs, loudly, throws his head back even.
"He's pissed, right? He seems pissed," Zayn says, still laughing, cheeks pink from the alcohol.
"He's fucking furious," Harry says laughing back.
They go to the kitchen and have another drink each, standing close as various people move around them. The music gets a little louder, a few of Ruth's friends start dancing into the other room. Zayn whispers to Harry that he hates dancing, which makes Harry laugh because he loves to dance, but he promises Zayn he won't make him do it, especially not here. They walk back in holding hands.
He's not sure how it even happens, but suddenly they're standing in the living room again, hugging. Zayn has his head tucked into Harry's chest, his arms around Harry's waist, and Harry can't help but smell Zayn's hair. He tightens his arms around Zayn, holding him close. From where he's standing he can see the main foyer, by the front door. Liam's standing there, another drink in his hand, watching them. Nicola comes to stand near him and she whispers something angrily into his ear.
Harry can't help himself, can't help but win again, so he pulls back, just as Zayn does. He smiles at him and moves in.
Their first kiss is perfect, there in the Payne living room, with people dancing around them to a Madonna song. He holds Zayn's face with one hand, as he slips his tongue into his mouth. He wants it to be good, not too dirty in front of strangers, but good enough that Zayn never fucking forgets it. He wouldn't mind if Liam never forgot it either.
Zayn's hand tightens in his, as he kisses back. Harry sighs into his mouth quietly, as people keep dancing around them. When Harry pulls back, he's delighted to see Liam and Nicola still watching them. So he gives Zayn one last peck before pulling away.
"You know," he whispers, still close and in Zayn's space. "I like long showers. And I sleep like a corpse. And I hate working out, too."
"Noted," Zayn whispers back, smiling.
***
It's as they're getting ready to leave, telling the Payne women goodbye for about the third time, when Harry's phone rings. He slips it out of his pocket and sees it's his mom calling. He forgot to call her today, which is unlike him because he calls her every day, and he doesn't want her to worry. So Harry slides his finger across the screen to accept the call, moving away from Zayn, towards the empty side hallway.
"Hey mom, can I call you tomorrow?" he whispers.
"Sure baby, just wanted to hear your voice. I haven't talked to you today," Anne says, yawning. She must be getting ready for bed.
"Sorry, I forgot to call. Sorry," he says, starting to make his way back towards the foyer.
Just then Liam walks out of a door in the hall, heading straight for him, swaying slightly.
"Where are you? It's loud," Anne says into his ear.
Harry's in a pickle now. He can't lie to his mom, ever. And he especially can't lie about where he is with Liam so close.
"I'm at an engagement party, I'll call you tomorrow," he rushes out, trying to hang up.
"Oh fun! Whose party? Where?"
"Mom, I'm with Zayn at a family friend's place, I have to go," he says, as Liam stands next to him, crossing his arms.
"Zayn?" she questions.
Liam stares at him, as Zayn walks towards them, to grab his hand.
"You ready, babe? It's getting late," Zayn says close to his face, trying to ignore Liam's awkward stare.
"Who is that? Is that Zayn? Harry Edward Styles, do you have a boyfriend?!" Anne yells through the phone into his ear.
"Yeah, mom. Zayn's here. I will call you tomorrow," he huffs out, fucking frustrated now. He can't let Liam see him flustered, and he can't make it look like his mom doesn't know about Zayn, who Zayn is.
"Let me talk to him right now. You listen to me, Harry Styles. Give him the phone," she squeals out, in her excited yet firm voice, the voice he knows well. He fucking gives up, handing Zayn the phone, rolling his eyes. But Zayn's good, he's a good liar like Harry, so he rolls his eyes towards Liam, like this must happen all the time, before moving away from the two of them, to talk to Harry's mom. Harry prays they can pull it off.
"She loves Zayn," he says, cool as ever, as Liam curls his lip in anger.
"Well don't you two just have all moms wrapped around your little fingers," he slurs slightly.
"What can I say, moms love us."
"Clearly."
Harry crosses his arms now, looking back at Zayn at the end of the hall, talking quietly into his phone, hoping he can pull this off for Anne as well. He looks back at Liam eyeing him.
"You'll never make him happy, you know."
"Oh trust me. He's very happy. In fact, I'm about to go make him happy in the car. Twice." He smiles, wickedly. Liam's face shakes in anger, right as Zayn walks back to them, handing Harry his phone.
"Anne says we're supposed to spend the weekend with her," he says, grabbing Harry's hand, like it's no big deal, like him and Anne are best friends. Harry smiles, knowing it's working, everything's fine.
"This has been lovely, Liam. Thank you so much for having us," Harry says, tugging Zayn away. Zayn gives a small wave to Liam, smiling.
They make it out the door after another round of hugs from the Paynes, Liam excluded. They don't look at each other until they're halfway down the driveway, walking towards the car. Zayn's face practically cracks in two, his smile splits his face so wide. He's buzzing, practically bouncing, as they get closer to the car.
"Did you see his face, Harry? Holy shit, I can't believe that worked so well. You don't know, he's such a shithead. He never looked proud to be with me, he never gave a shit if I had a drink in my hand. And now look at him! Fuck, that was good," he says, hands on his hips, standing next to the car.
"I'm glad it worked," he smiles back.
"Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much for doing this. You have no idea how good that felt, to throw it back in his fucking face how fine I am. Or like, how fine I'm going to be, you know? Fuck him."
"I totally get it. And I was happy to," he says, hands now on his hips as well. They stand and look at each other.
"Well, I wanted to tell you… Your mom, Anne. When we were on the phone, she asked about me, and I didn't know what to say. So I kept it really vague. Just that we were together or whatever. I didn't know what to say, Liam was right there."
"No it's fine," he says, rolling his eyes with a smile. "She gets excited easily. I'll correct her later."
"She seemed really happy. She seemed happy to talk to me, happy that you had someone," he says quietly, looking at his feet. "She said it was good, that after everything that happened with you, everything you went through… She said it was good you had me?"
"Oh," Harry says, frowning. He shuffles his feet and looks away, back at the nice Beverly Hills houses on the street, all lit up with their perfect gardens and lawns.
"Yeah."
"That's nothing. She's just dramatic, is all. She wants me to find a boyfriend. It's nothing. She just worries about me, wants me to be happy, eventually. Whatever."
"Okay."
"Yeah."
Harry hopes that's that, and thankfully it is, as Zayn gets into the car, Harry following soon after. Once they're back on the road, heading back towards campus where they both live only a few blocks from each other, it's better. The energy doesn't feel as static.
When they pull up in front of Harry's building, they sit in the car, radio playing softly in the background. Harry wants to invite Zayn in, is the thing. He wants to invite him in and have Zayn fuck his brains out. He might be sure of himself, confident, strong. But he loves to be shoved around. He wants Zayn to shove him, to see him naked, in his bed, in his shower, on his couch, wherever he can fucking get him. But he doesn't know if he's supposed to, if this really was a date, if they're doing this thing together. He doesn't know if it's all a lie. He doesn't know what the truth is.
Zayn reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing his fingers, as he continues to look straight ahead. Harry's so fucking grateful that Zayn touched him, let him know it's good, regardless of what they had to do tonight.
"You wanna come in?"
"How about next time?" Zayn says, finally turning to him, smiling.
"Okay, sure. Next time," he says, nodding furiously, feeling like an idiot.
"Hey, Harry?"
"Yeah?" he looks up, hopeful.
"Your mom seemed really happy to talk to me. Earlier. If you need me to help you, to let her see you're doing okay, if you need me to do this, whatever this is, what we did tonight… If you need me to do it for you, I can," he says, holding his hand tighter now.
Harry sits and thinks for a moment, considers what Zayn just said. He supposes there are worse things than having your mom look at your life and see it as positive and healthy, to see you with someone, finally happy and moved on, once and for all. After everything, after the lows she saw him at for the last few years, maybe it couldn't hurt.
He's just never lied to his mom before, ever. She knew he sneaked into the clubs, she knew about the boys he tried to sneak in and out of the house in high school. She knew him better than he knew himself. He's not sure he can lie to her.
But he also thinks how nice it would be to spend a weekend with Zayn, in his house, home with his mom and family around him. So what if it's a lie? He's lied to everyone else in his life, might as well try it out on his mom, if it'll make her happy. She won't even know. Plus, lies can only hurt you if you let them.
"Really?"
"Of course. It's only fair," Zayn says, leaning his head back against the headrest.
"Uh, okay. Thank you. Seriously. You wouldn't mind spending the weekend? At the house in Santa Monica?"
"If you're asking me, if I'll go, the answer is yes. I'd be happy to," he smiles.
Harry doesn't give a shit anymore, if it's not technically a date, if this was all just for show. He doesn't care, so he leans in and kisses Zayn again, this gorgeous stranger he's only known for a day. It's not for anyone else's sake but his own, which is nice. Zayn leans into him, runs his tongue along his lip, slips it into his mouth. He lets Zayn take control, lets him hold his face, breathe into his mouth.
Harry loves giving it away like this, letting someone take what they want from him, even if it's just a kiss. He leans in more, is just about to grab Zayn's hand, when instead Zayn moves his hand to Harry's leg. He runs it along his inner thigh, inching his fingers up towards Harry's hardening dick. He ghosts his fingers over him slightly, making Harry gasp into his mouth.
"Fuck," Harry breathes out, as Zayn grabs him right over his zipper.
"I hope you have a good night, Harry," Zayn whispers, smiling against his mouth.
Harry sits back, breathing heavy, to look at Zayn. "What?"
Zayn just smiles, like the devil himself taught him how, as he moves his hands back to the steering wheel.
"You tease," Harry says, smiling now too. "You're gonna pay for that."
"We'll see," he says, before leaning in for one more kiss. "I'll see you in a few days, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Harry laughs again. "Bye Zayn."
"Thanks again, for all of it."
Harry kisses him again, before forcing himself out of the car, before he goes and grabs at Zayn. He wants to touch him so badly, he forces himself to swiftly get away from him entirely. He waves as Zayn pulls away and drives down the street.
***
It's not until Harry's in his bed mere minutes later, after stripping off everything he has touching his body, after he has a firm grasp around himself, that he thinks of Zayn's face again. He pictures his cheek bones and how hollow they probably get when a cock is in his mouth.
He pictures Zayn sucking him off, wonders if he gets messy with it, if he lets spit get on his chin. He wonders if he uses his hands, if he likes to fist himself while he moves his face up and down on someone, or if he likes to wait until after. He comes over his fingers, thinking about Zayn blowing him with a finger in his ass at the same time. He can't wait to find out how he does it, if he fucking loves it.
Harry texts Zayn, before he falls asleep that night, just a simple goodnight Zayn. He briefly thought about sending him a picture of himself naked, something to tease Zayn, as pay back. But he doesn't. He figures the first time Zayn sees him naked, it'll be in person.
Preferably with Harry on his back, so he can see Zayn see him.
Before he falls asleep, the last thing he thinks about, is if he'll actually have to tell Zayn about what happened. If what happened needs to be told, if he can just fake it until he makes it, if Anne will let it go when they arrive. He hopes so. Then he thinks of Zayn, of Zayn's face when he was happy next to his car, after Harry did what he needed him to do. After Harry won.
Harry fucking loves winning.
***
So that's how it started. It began with a lie, so hopefully you paid attention.