Chapter Text
The hardest part about being a delivery guy, Zayn thinks, is he never knows what he’s getting himself into until it’s too late and he’s standing at some rickety door, trying to fight off a feisty, old drunk who mistakes him for a cop.
Still, that would be better than this, Zayn decides as he steps up onto the porch of the quaint home, lined with shrubs and a few too many lawn decorations. Because he can taste the steak before he smells it. And in his experience, smelling food while you’re supposed to be delivering it is never a good sign.
Ringing the doorbell, he swears under his breath, stiffening his posture but keeping his head down as the sound of socked footsteps come nearer.
“Pizza?” The voice says incredulously as the door opens. “I didn’t order any—“
In a huff, Zayn interrupts, eyes still trained on the pizza box as he pulls it out of its zipped pocket. “Look, I don’t care if some kid down the street prank called the pizza for you…” His breath stops and any hint of anger evaporates suddenly when he glances up at the boy.
Finding his worried, chocolate brown eyes, Zayn’s eyes travel down the other boy’s face, the little frown looking a bit out of place but accenting his sharp, bearded jaw. And Zayn can’t remember what he’s upset about any longer, can only stare longer than necessary. Seconds pass as he notes every feature on the boy. Finding the birthmark on his neck with a little smile, he’s only brought out of his haze by the slow sting of the hot pizza beginning to burn his palm through the box.
Glancing down at the receipt with a sheepish grin, Zayn clears his throat. Taking in a sharp breath after reading the words, he mutters, “It’s actually paid for.” He sounds puzzled, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Zayn watches as confusion flashes across the other boy’s face, but continues on when he doesn’t say anything. “Uhh,” Zayn pauses, takes a giant gulp as he tries to remember where he’s put his wits—because he knows for sure they aren’t here. “There’s a message for you: ‘Sorry.’”
The man is quiet for a moment, the heavy silence between the two of them growing as he watches Zayn expectantly. Cocking his head to the side, he asks quietly, “What was the message then?” With a quirk of his eyebrow, he leans in.
“Err,” Zayn stutters. “That was the message. It just says ‘Sorry.’” The man’s look of confusion is quickly replaced by a sigh and an eye roll. He snorts, but doesn’t seem the slightest bit amused.
“It’s from my, uhh, my ex,” he starts, his eyes glazing over while focusing on the pizza box. “The bastard… err, he cheated on me.” Scuffing his foot against the carpet below him, the man focuses on anything but the delivery boy in front of him.
Zayn can’t help it. His ears ring out against the he in the sentence, gulping as all thoughts halt at the word. He has a chance. Maybe. Shaking his head to clear the ridiculous thought, he swallows hard.
“How?” is all Zayn can get out, not able to take his eyes off the stunning boy. He knows that’s probably not the word that’s supposed to leave his mouth, knows an apology is probably what the man is looking for, but he can’t stop it. Instead, he lets out a little breath, continuing on. “How could anyone ever cheat on you?”
The boy smirks, lets out a little chuckle as his eyebrows shoot up. “What is that supposed to mean, mate?”
“You’re, like, a model,” Zayn shrugs matter-of-factly, making sure the other boy catches his eyes wander down the length of his body.
The man seems to ponder this for a moment, the surprise on his face shifting suddenly to something unreadable. “Hey, you know,” he starts slowly, a glint in his eye. “I have a good idea on how to get back at my dick of an ex.”
Air catches in Zayn’s throat at these words, almost choking him. Shit. Obviously this guy isn’t over his ex. Just his luck. “What’s that?” Zayn asks lowly as he hastily hands the pizza over to the man, ready to dash out of there before he can make any more of a fool of himself.
“I could go out with the pizza guy that he sent,” the boy winks, the grin enveloping his whole face.
Zayn blinks, feeling his eyes grow twice their size at this. “Well…” Zayn chokes out. He takes a breath out, steadies himself. “That sounds like good revenge to me,” he smirks.
“It’s a date then, uhh…” Zayn begins, licking his lips as he realizes he’s just accepted a date from a boy he doesn’t even know the name of. Already realizes that he’s in deep.
“Liam,” the man smiles gently with a dip of his head.
“Zayn,” the other boy responds, beaming.
“My place tomorrow at seven then, Zayn?” Liam asks, leaning against his door frame as his hands fidget with the warm box. “I trust you know the way.”
Zayn nods, grinning as he says, “I’ll bring the food.”