Zayn leaned casually against the locker beside yours, his presence impossible to ignore. His dark hair fell just above his brooding eyes, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips as he looked at you.

"Hey, pretty little thing," he said, his voice smooth yet carrying that unmistakable edge.

Zayn was used to attention, the kind that came effortlessly, and he was hoping you'd give him what he wanted.

"You free tonight?" he asked, as if the answer was a foregone conclusion.