"The worst part? I looked terrible! Like just-rolled-out-of-bed terrible." I frown, remembering my horrible outfit and hairdo last night.

"There is no way that is true," Jordyn responds. I can tell she's rolling her eyes without having to look at her. "I mean, he came up to you, not the other way around."

Jor and I decide that we will be productive today and head into the city to shop for graduation dresses. I would order mine online, but Jordyn insisted that trying them on and making a day out of it is necessary.

I need something light-hearted before my therapy appointment today anyway.

"No, Jor. I'll show you what I was wearing when we get home. I looked absolutely pitiful." I clench my eyes shut, trying not to think about it.

Jordyn wraps her arm around me, laughing. "You said he is 'model-like.' Model-like men don't talk to pitiful-looking women."

I laugh at her words as we head into our second store of the morning. Los Angeles may be a nightmare filled with shallow people, but the stores are lovely, despite the absurd prices.

As soon as we walk in, Jordyn practically sprints to the wall of dresses, running her hand across them. "Look! So many options. Isn't this better than online shopping?"

I give her a fake smile and nod. "Yes, Jor. I'm glad we're doing this." It's not a lie, I love spending time with Jordyn, but I am exhausted. I hardly got any sleep after leaving Zayn on the sidewalk.

His gorgeous green eyes and fluffy dark brown curls stayed in my mind the rest of the night. Every time I shut my eyes, his perfectly straight white teeth and playful laugh appeared.

I'm not really the type of girl to get approached by men, and I've been grateful for it because oftentimes, it's not an enjoyable experience.

I'm not overwhelmingly attractive like Jordyn or the rest of my friends. Jordyn's the kind of girl that gets flirted with at every party, hit on at every bar. Me? I'm just the best friend that follows her around to make the most of my young years.

He approached me, though. He saw me in the corner of the room with my hair a mess and my eyes tired, and yet he still approached me. Did I hallucinate him? I haven't been sleeping much. It's possible, I guess.

"Scar?" I hear Jordyn's voice.

"Sorry. What'd you say?" I look at her and the short white dress in her hands.

She smirks knowingly, waving her hand as if saying she doesn't mind that I wasn't listening. "Should I try it on?"

"Yes. That is a gorgeous dress." It's short but long enough for the occasion. It's a beautiful white lace dress with a plunging neckline, showing off just enough cleavage.

"Okay! Pick something out while I change, will you?" I nod with a laugh, turning towards the intimidating wall of dresses.

Dresses aren't my thing. I might at well be looking at a blank wall because I am absolutely clueless about where to start.

I spend a few minutes flipping through the dresses, pushing the hangers quickly before landing on a beautiful slip dress. It is skin-tight and has a small slit on the left leg. Luckily, my figure might be perfect for this kind of dress.

Jordyn and I try on our dresses and meet in the middle, practically gawking over one another rather than ourselves. We both decide to buy the dresses and head out for an early lunch before my therapy session.

Before I know it, Jordyn has dropped me off in front of the familiar grey building. You'd think they'd want to make a place where therapy happens inviting, but no.

I head in and inform the receptionist that I'm here, waiting on the ugly green couch in the ugly yellow waiting room. Who designed this place? They need some serious help.

"Scarlett! Come on in," my therapist, Doctor Sweeny calls me in, smiling her usual big shiny smile.

"Hi, Dr. Sweeny," I greet, plopping down on her brown leather couch. Her room is much better than the rest of this place. It's full of neutral colors, and beautiful, unique paintings hang on the walls, along with her certifications.

"How have you been? It's been a while." I was hoping she wouldn't bring that up. It's been around two months, I think. I just haven't had anything to say. I can't really feel anything. How do you talk about that?

"I've been okay. In the running for a new job, so that's exciting." I answer truthfully. I have been okay. Okay, it is normal. I have been normal. Right?

I chose Dr. Sweeny because she is young. She's in her early thirties, and she struggled with depression herself, as well as her extensive experience. I wanted it to feel like I was talking with a friend, rather than a condescending adult. "I'm glad to hear that. Scarlett. I hope you get it. I'm sure you will."

"Yeah, thanks." I give her a small smile, pinching the inside of my wrist to attempt to calm my anxiety.

"How have you been sleeping?" Straight to the point then, nice.

I sigh, pinching my wrist harder. "Um, not great, I guess? My head is really loud, all the time."

"Are there voices that are loud or just thoughts?" She opens up her book and flips around.

"Not voices. My thoughts. It's not just before bed, though. It's all the time."

I won't bore you with the specifics.

I leave therapy feeling a bit lighter, as if all the weight on my heart is temporarily lifted. Dr. Sweeny assured me that having faith in myself and sticking to my medication will ultimately be best. I'll believe it when I see it.

I walk home, stopping at a Mexican restaurant to pick up food.

Jordyn informs me that she has a "stupid-ass dinner" to go to and that she'll be home later. I try to occupy my free time with some meditating and reality tv.

It dawns on me that Zayn and I never exchanged numbers, and we never confirmed the next time we'd meet up. Should I go there tonight? If I do and he's not there, should I assume that night was just a fluke?

By the time eleven rolled around, I found myself in jeans, an oversized hoodie, and my leather journal in hand, standing outside of 25 Hours.

I don't care if he isn't here. I don't expect him to be. Maybe he realized this is childish and went back to his real adult world. Maybe he realized I'm not special looking and decided to forget me altogether.

My conspiracies are halted once I step in and see the handsome brunette from last night, his large body sat at the small wooden table in the corner. I smirk to myself, ducking my head and ordering my coffee.

Once Sandra, one of the baristas, hands me my drink, I approach Zayn at the table. I place my journal down and pull my chair out, facing him. "Hi,"

You sound like a squeaky mouse, Scar. Speak up!

He smiles, not only with his lips but his eyes too. "Hey," he sips his coffee, keeping his eyes on my own. God, let me breathe, will you? "I brought something."

"You brought something?" I repeat, raising my brow.

He gestures to the side of his chair. I look and see a skateboard leaning against the chair. I look back at him and smile. "The first activity?"

He grabs my journal and flips to our list, pointing at number one. "Learn how to skateboard," he reads. "You're in luck. College Zayn was a skater boy."

Avril Lavigne would be so proud of me right now. "Was? You don't skate anymore?"

"Not anymore. Don't worry. I still have my tricks." He looked sad for a moment, but it was fleeting. Lost passion, maybe?

"Well, we'd better get started. I'm a slow learner." I admit, sipping my coffee.

I'm honestly terrified of embarrassing myself in front of this man. I mean, he's a borderline model teaching me how to skateboard- an activity that requires a lot of falling and embarrassment. Great.

Zayn nods and stands up, clutching his skateboard in one hand and his coffee in another. We head out the doors after saying a quick goodbye to Sandra. The street lights illuminate the chipped sidewalks, lighting the way to the empty parking lot.

"Here should be fine," Zayn says, grabbing my coffee and my journal from my hands and placing it on the curb. He did it so naturally, like helping me out came easy to him.

It's a normal thing to do for someone, Scarlett. Relax.

"Have you ever tried riding a skateboard before?" He asks. His green eyes are almost brown in the dim lighting.

"Um, no. I used my friends' longboards a few times." I shrug.

He nods, laying the skateboard on the grass, and motions for me to come over to him. "Practice jumping on and off the board, getting used to it without rolling."

"Okay, yeah." I do what he says, getting bored of the same movements, basically mastering my ability to jump onto the board.

"Can we get to the fun part now?" He chuckles and shakes his head. We go over a few more basics. He stays nearby as I try different balance techniques. I try not to complain every step of the way, but I do love to complain.

"My feet are killing me. Where is the fun part that people make YouTube compilations of?"

"You want to be in YouTube compilations? Then master the basics," he responds sarcastically. He handles me so well, it's almost like we've known one another for years.

After a ton of "drills," Zayn held my hand like I was a toddler, and we went around the parking lot. He kept walking too slow, making me pull him, which made my stance shaky, causing me to fall. Luckily, he caught me before I could hit the ground.

"You can try pushing off and rolling now if you want." He says, letting go of my hand after we nearly fell.

"Um, yeah. Okay," I say, tying my hair up into a messy bun. "Ready?"

"Yup," he moves behind me and his hands hovering on the sides of my waist, waiting to catch me if necessary. Is it okay for my heart to swell a bit at that? Am I pathetic? Oh, whatever, my heart is swelling.

I step onto the board, positing my feet and facing the desired direction. I push off, wobbling a little, hitting Zayn's hand with my hip a few times. I get to a pretty good speed, and Zayn moves with me.

It was easy to pick up, honestly. I didn't really fall much, thanks to Zayn's quick refle-

"Ow," I grunt, my hands breaking my fall after I flew headfirst off the board. Zayn is right behind me, failing to break my fall completely. I feel his hands on my waist, but I must've fallen too fast. "Damn it."

"No worries. You're doing good." He ensures, lifting me gently. I brush off the tiny pebbles poking the skin on my hands.

"Thanks,"

We keep going. I try again, I fall again, and we repeat until I am pushing off and speeding across the parking lot without falling. Well, technically, I only did it once, but it counts to me.

By the time we decide enough is enough, it is nearly three in the morning. We're sat on the curb next to my journal and our half-drunk coffees.

The sky is black, not a star in sight, and the air has a slight chill to it now. "Did you fulfill your desire to learn to skateboard?" Zayn questions.

I turn to face him, suddenly wanting to maintain eye contact with him. "Why yes. I did." I grab my journal and remove the pen from my pocket, crossing number one off our list. "One down."

"You ready to head home?" He asks, his deep voice a surprisingly blissful sound.

"Yep. I drove this time," I smile, waving my keys for evidence.

"Good call," he smiles back, lifting his skateboard and walking me to my car. "Can I get your phone number this time?"

My stomach flutters at that, and I try my best to suppress my emotions, not wanting to show how truly happy that makes me. "Um, yeah. Yes."

Seriously, Scarlett?

I really should talk to Dr. Sweeny about that.

I take his phone and put in my number, remaining as stoic as possible. "You might regret that," he says as I hand him his phone.

"Why's that?" I question.

"I may be a super serious lawyer and everything, but my iMessage game talents are off the charts." I tried not to give him a laugh, but I can't help it. We laugh together, and he opens my door for me after I unlock my car.

"Thank you," I say, giving him a genuine smile before getting into my car. "Good night, Zayn."

"Good night, beautiful." He responds, temporarily freezing me as he closes my door and walks away.

Good night, beautiful.