3

BeforeRyder

I'll never forget that day I met him. I had noticed him before he noticed me and was immediately drawn to him. I was grateful for the book in my hands and lifted it slightly, just so I could take small glances at him without being obvious.

His voice was what caught my attention, it was so smooth and velvety, his European accent clear as day. He was engulfed in conversation with my new roommate Laila, and from the easygoing conversation they seemed to have, I'd assume they were either good friends or siblings.

The more I listened to their conversation, I realized their accents were identical.

They had to be siblings.

His hair was dark, thick and styled effortlessly. His warm, honey skin complimented the soft pink of his lips. His cheekbones were impressive, his jawline was impeccable. I don't think I've ever met someone who's face was just so perfectly designed.

Clearly, I wasn't the only one who took notice as both of my roommates, Jasmine and Brooklyn, were on him in a moment. They fawned over him, their eyes glued to him as they hung onto every last word he said. He didn't seem the least bit bothered, he was probably used to it.

I averted my attention back to my book, not wanting to get caught staring at him. Only moments later, Laila cleared her throat and turned her gaze on me.

"And this is Ryder, Ryder this is my brother, Zayn."

I gazed up from the novel to find the two of them watching me.

The moment his eyes caught mine, I felt my pulse quicken. His eyes weren't as dark as they appeared, a beautiful amber color surrounded by magnificent lashes. His eyes were like the missing piece to a puzzle. Once I had truly seen him for all that he was, there was this warm buzz below my navel. The attraction was instantaneous. He smiled softly and waved at me.

"Hi, nice to meet you," he greeted.

His gaze was intense like the sun, it felt strangely good.

Too good.

I returned his smile and nodded at him, before turning my attention back to my book. I wanted to engage with him more, talk to him but I was suddenly so nervous.

Guys back home didn't look like this, I've never met someone and had such an intense attraction to them so quickly.

It freaked me out.

I subconsciously found myself looking for him over the next few days. Whether it was in the hallway, at the library, or the cafe, I couldn't help but wonder where he was. I had looked for him so much but never seemed to find him. It was driving me a little mad.

I was pleasantly surprised to find we both had French with Mr. Laurent. We sat on opposite sides of the classroom, but I would occasionally steal glances at him.

He was quiet, tedious and seemed so absorbed in his studies. Every so often, he'd show up with these thick rimmed glasses on and it only made me desire him more. He went from your typical frat boy to a hot nerd and his duality was maddening.

As weeks went by, I'd continue to admire him from a distance, whether in class or back at the dorms. I didn't make the effort to approach him because I was slightly intimidated.

He was well known on campus, a sophomore, and the captain of the soccer team. From what I gathered from the gossip on campus, he was charismatic, intelligent as he took mostly AP classes, and one hell of a soccer player. He seemed like the full package and there was a long line of girls queuing up to date him.

But apparently he didn't date, at least not seriously. He was too dedicated to his sport and his studies. He couldn't add a serious relationship to his plate. But it didn't stop him from hooking up with plenty of them. The perk of being observant and quiet means you get to hear all of the gossip. The hushed conversations in crowded rooms when no one thinks you're listening. And the general consensus I heard about Zayn was that he was well endowed and rather expert in the female anatomy. At least that's what the girls in the dorms say.

Occasionally I'd see him on campus with random girls and wonder what the story was there. Were they hooking up or just a friend?

I couldn't help but compare myself to the girls I'd see him with. It was never the same girl twice, but they all looked and carried themselves the same way. Sun-kissed hair, fancy purses and freshly whitened teeth. They screamed luxury.

They clearly came from money, and I did not.

I was part of the small group of kids on campus on a scholarship who had to spend her free time working to be able to afford anything here. I didn't know him well enough but I knew Laila well enough to know they came from money.

A lot of it.

I'm sure one of her handbags cost more than our mortgage back home.

All in all, I didn't think I had a chance in hell.

So I stuck to just admiring him from afar.

But here we were, at some fraternity house party, eyes locked on one another from across the yard and I'm sure he's about to walk over to me. It's that same intense gaze he had when we met in the dorms.

My eyes travel his body as I take him all in. He's wearing a black flannel that's unbuttoned with a Deftones T-shirt underneath. His dark wash jeans sat nicely over his black boots. He looked so effortlessly cool.

He keeps his eyes locked on me as he starts to approach me. My feet are frozen in place and I can't tear my gaze from him. My pulse quickens as the rowdy crowd and obnoxiously loud music seem to fade away and all I can focus on is him.

He's before me in a moment, his divine cologne embracing me.

"Hi," he says.

"Hey," I reply, my voice small.

"It's Ryder, right? You're my sister's roommate," Zayn asks.

I nod.

"Zayn," he introduces himself.

He extends his hand to me. I place my hand in his and the feeling of his skin on mine sends an electric current up my spine.

"Yeah, I remember. We have French together, Mr. Laurent calls on you from time to time," I reply.

He lets go of my hand and runs a hand through his hair. It's usually styled and pushed back from his face, but not tonight. His dark hair covers his forehead and rests just above his eyes.

The closer he is now, the more I notice the slight stubble on his cheeks and glassy look to his eyes.

"Yeah, erm how are you liking it so far?" Zayn asks.

I'm caught off guard by the question and the awkwardness in his tone. When I've watched him interact with people, he usually seems so sure.

I'm not getting that same energy here and it's throwing me off.

"French class?"

He nods and awaits my answer.

I shrug and lean back against the wall.

"It's okay, a little more involved then I was ready for but I don't mind it."

His brows drew together and he tilted his head.

"Involved how?"

"I mean, I was in AP French in high school but there's still a few things that weren't covered in that class. I mean Mr. Laurent running the entire class in French threw me for a loop. I was not prepared," I answered.

He nodded with understanding and brushed the hair from his face again.

"Well if you ever need help, I'd be glad to assist you. My French is pretty impeccable," Zayn offers with a grin.

I bite my lip to suppress a smile.

"Is it now?" I challenged playfully.

His grin deepened at the change in my demeanor and he seemed to relax a bit.

"Oh yeah, I'm a pro. I'm the designated translator when my family goes to France. I've even assisted my father on some business meetings there," he boasts.

"Wow, do you find yourself in France often?" I ask.

He shrugs and leans against the wall beside me, his body still facing me.

"Eh, we go about three times a year," he replies.

I can't even hide the surprise from my facial expression. I've never even left the country, let alone gone to France.

"You ever been?" He questioned.

I shook my head.

"I have not, maybe one day."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll get there one day. And with my help, you'll be able to hold entire conversations with your barista without them mocking you."

I smiled and laughed.

"Hmm, you know, you're very confident in your skills. One might confuse your confidence with cockiness," I remarked.

His brows furrowed and he shook his head.

"Nah. Confident? Sure. Cocky? Never," he assured me with a grin.

"I mean, if you were cocky, I'd understand," I tease.

He smirks and raises his brows at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrug for indifference but I can't help but smirk back at him.

"I don't know, you're like the top of your class, you're head of the soccer team, and you apparently are very well traveled. It's okay to be a little cocky."

He chuckled and crossed his arms again.

"Wow, someone's been doing their homework on me," he teases back.

My mouth fell open as I scoffed.

"Yeah, if you call listening to the gossip around campus as doing homework, sure. Consider me an expert in all things Zayn."

His brows raised and he leaned in with intrigue.

"Gossip, yeah? Tell me, is that all you've heard about me? Or were there other things you'd like to share?", He questions.

I lose focus momentarily as I realize how close he was now.

My brain jumps to the crude rumors I've heard about him and I can feel my cheeks flush at the thought. I cleared my throat and quickly nod my head.

"Nope, that about sums it up."

He doesn't seem convinced as he scans my face for some tell of denial. His gaze lingers on my lips, not for long but just long enough that I notice it.

My pulse quickens again and I avert my gaze back to my cup of rum and coke that I've been sipping on most of the night. I bring the cup to my lips and take a generous swig. I want the confidence that comes from the buzz of the liquor to help guide me through this conversation.

"Huh, well I'm glad it's all good things then," he finally says.

I look back up at him and nod. My eyes fall back to the deftone shirt and I smile.

"I love your shirt, are you a big Deftones fan?" I ask.

I reach out and trace my finger along the font across his chest. I can feel him tense up beneath my touch and gaze up at him through my lashes. His lip is between his teeth as he watches me carefully.

I drop my hand and bring my cup to my lips to take another sip. His lips pull into another smirk and he shakes his head.

"Honestly, I've never heard anything from them. I just stole this shirt from my roommate last year, I thought it was sick," he confesses and glances down at it.

I suck my teeth and sigh.

"Huh, that's a shame. I was going to add excellent taste in music to your list of reasons to be cocky but I guess I can't now."

He scoffs and looks at me amusedly.

"Shit, really? That's one I would've loved to add. You sure you can't reconsider?"

I grin and shrug.

"I'm not sure, we'll see."

"Huh, okay. Enough about me then, what about you?" Zayn asks.

"What about me?"

"What do you like to do for fun? What are Ryder's reasons for being cocky?"

"I don't know if I have any reasons to be cocky," I admit with a laugh.

His eyes soften and he gives me a look.

"Now I'm sure that's not true, come on. Talk to me, what's an ideal Friday night for you?"

"Honestly, a night in with a good book or binging a tv series. Or just listening to my music and painting," I reply.

Zayn's eyes light up.

"Shit, you just described my perfect night."

I cock my head and narrow my eyes at him.

"Really? You spend your Friday nights curled up with a good book or painting?" I question with doubt.

I couldn't imagine a guy as attractive and in demand as him spending the night painting or simply reading.

He looks slightly offended and nods.

"Yes, actually. I'm currently making my way through a shit ton of Stephen King books. My nightstand is littered with them," he protests.

It's my turn to look at him amusedly.

"Wait, you like horror?"

"Absolutely, horror movies, books, tv shows. I love it all," Zayn insist.

"Wow," is all I say as I smile back at him.

He grins and draws his brow together in intrigue.

"What?"

"I love horror too," I confess.

"See, we both love horror. Add it to the list," he grins coyly.

I laugh out loud and shake my head.

"Sure, I'll add it to the list. And do you actually paint or are you bullshiting me?"

He nods again.

"I do paint, I mean not incredibly well, I'm no Van Gogh but I've taken classes. I do alright."

I couldn't help the giddiness I was feeling right now. I loved that we had common interests, I was excited to have someone to share them with.

Especially someone so fucking cute.

"Wow, okay. I'm intrigued," I reply and finish off the last of my drink.

His brows raise and he licks his lips.

"You're intrigued?"

"Yeah, you seem pretty cool," I responded coolly.

He grins and nods.

"Thanks, you seem pretty cool too. I'd love the opportunity to get to know you more," Zayn confesses.

I wasn't sure if it was the liquor or the fact that Zayn wanted to get to know me better, but I was filled with this warmth from head to toe.

"Okay, but only if you promise to show me your collection of paintings," I concede.

He nods and grabs my empty cup.

"Deal, but only if you show me your collection of books and paintings. I'd love to get an idea of what's going on in that mind of yours," he agrees.

"Now, would you like another drink? Or would you like to go somewhere quieter to continue this conversation?"he inquires.

I glance at the empty cup in his hand and shake my head.

"No, I'm good on my drink, but I will take you up on the offer to go somewhere quieter. The music seems to be getting louder and louder."

He smiles warmly and nods. He places my cup on a nearby table and nods towards a hammock in the far end of the yard.

"Let's head over there, I'm sure it'll be much quieter," he insists.

I follow behind him, my body high on serotonin. I was so excited to keep this conversation going.

I wasn't sure what his game plan was or what he wanted but I was enjoying his presence so much, I didn't even care.