Zayn

Sleepy. But you can't sleep. Or rather, you don't dare, since this is History class taught by the 'witch', Ms. Ann.

Not only you, but almost the whole class is in the same situation. Even though your eyelids are about to fall, you don't dare to lower your head. No one dares. Except for the student sitting at the same table as you, Zayn.

The one that even Ms. Ann can't control, just because his father holds a large share in the school, causing all his unruly behavior to be ignored.

The school rules are just a few words put together in his eyes. He has never been afraid, whether his father is backing him or not.

Resting your chin on your palm, you unconsciously glancing at the face sleeping soundly across from you.

Not to mention his unpleasant personality, his cocky attitude, his mouth that always spits out curse words, if ignore those things, he's not too hateful. Especially with a face and height that's more than enough to be within the boyfriend standards of any girl (and boy).

Your eyes stopped at the ring on his lower lip, wondering if it would get stuck to his partner's lip when they kissed.

As if he felt your gaze, one of his eyes suddenly opened, glanced up at you, his voice was a bit deep but still had a hint of a teenager.

"Looking what, little one?"

You were a bit startled, instinctively pretending to look around, avoiding his eyes for a moment before answering.

"Count how many piercings you have."

He raised his eyebrows, as if you had just said something funny or stupid, slowly sitting up. Lazily yawning loudly without bothering to cover his mouth, he leaned back against the chair in a cool pose, legs spread wide, hands in his pockets, leaning over to look at you.

"There are still these down there, want to count?"

Your eyes unconsciously glanced down at his crotch then quickly, guiltily looked up again. You could see the smirk with three parts perverted, seven parts like three hanging on the corner of his mouth.