Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3868417.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Liam_Payne/Zayn_Malik, Liam_Payne/Louis_Tomlinson, Liam_Payne/Other(s)
  Character:
      Liam_Payne, Zayn_Malik, Niall_Horan, Harry_Styles, Louis_Tomlinson,
      Sophia_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Abuse_of_Authority, Age_Difference,
      Barebacking, Boarding_School, Bullying, Drugging, Dubious_Consent,
      Dubious_Morality, Flashbacks, First_Time, Frottage, Infidelity,
      Manipulation, Masturbation, Misogynistic/Sexist_language, Oral_Sex,
      Possessiveness, Slow_Build, Smut, Secret_Relationship, Teacher-Student
      Relationship, Teasing, Virgin_Zayn
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-05-03 Completed: 2015-07-05 Chapters: 17/17 Words: 80003
****** Tamper ******
by saltwatergirl
Summary
     After being appointed as a teacher at McEllan Academy, Liam becomes
     fixated with a student. This is not the first time that this has
     happened.
Notes
     Thank you, Equallydestructive for the beta read.
     This story was inspired by the novel Tampa written by Alissa Nutting.
***** Chapter 1 *****
The night before his first day teaching at McEllan Academy, Liam tossed and
turned beside his wife, Sophia, as he thought about the upcoming day and the
teaching job she had more likely than not procured for him. She had taken her
pills – the temazepam, her doctor, a close family friend, prescribed – before
sinking into a graceful sleep. It was a combination of the temazepam plus the
sedative Liam had crushed into her wine, which had rendered her immobile and
unconscious beside him.
They had met five years ago at a high end French restaurant where Liam had been
waiting part-time while completing his Bachelor’s degree in Education and for
some absurd reason, she had decided she wanted him. Being the only daughter of
Stephen Smith meant she often got what she wanted.
He had resisted and had been honest with her - he wasn’t looking for a serious
relationship, but Sophia persisted. She made sure the restaurant owner, a mate
of her father’s, gave Liam better shifts and a promotion to restaurant manager
when the old manager failed to show up to work one day. And because saying ‘no’
to Sophia was unpleasant, Liam succumbed and took her out for a date.
She was exquisite. Her skin was pale, she had expressive green-eyes, long,
luxurious dark hair, and her lips were always painted crimson to match her long
nails. She spoke three languages, had travelled a great deal, and had been
raised in an estate ten times larger than the council house he had grew up in.
She was sophisticated, confident in the way wealthy people were, fun in the way
that they normally weren’t.  At the end of that first date, Liam drove her to
her flat and she insisted he come up with her.
“Have a night cap with me, Liam,” she had said, tongue skimming her plump lips.
Knowing it was futile to say no to Sophia Smith, Liam let himself be led to
through the flat’s entrance and through the hotel style lobby.  In the lift,
she shoved him against the wall and kissed him hard, claiming him with her
mouth. The lift reached her floor and they walked out hand-in-hand. A thought
had come over him as they stood at the precipice; this wasn’t going to end
well. Sophia was everything he should want, but he didn’t. Things would work so
much better if he wiped her red lipstick from his lips and returned to his
rundown car and to his even more rundown flat. Seeming to be in slow motion,
Sophia opened the door casting a flirtatious glance over one bare shoulder
while she sauntered inside, kicking off her stilettos and throwing them aside.
Liam stood at the door, watching her. She reached for the zipper on the side of
her dress and pulled it down, the black dress falling off, leaving her in her
lacy bra and panties. She kicked the dress aside, threw him a smouldering look,
and said, “Find me in the bedroom.”
Liam walked in, pulling at his tie with one hand as he slammed the door behind
him with the heel of his foot. And, with that simple step, he was hers.
                                  *** *** ***
 Liam hadn’t completed his Post-Graduate Certificate in Education – he had
dropped out a few credit short to marry Sophia. He’d barely passed the college
entrance exam and the exam results he obtained during his undergraduate years
were consistently below average. This made him an unlikely candidate to be
recruited to teach at one of the most prestigious public schools in the
country. He knew he never would had made the candidate long list if it weren’t
for Sophia’s connections.
In fact, wasn’t a good candidate to be teaching at all. That was one of the
many things that Sophia didn’t know about him. He’d given her scraps about his
childhood over the years. His family life in the housing estate, the friends he
had had, and the schools he had attended. Just enough for her to have a vague
idea of his early life, to draw an outline of a sketch. If she ever thought
hard enough she’d realise that the features were blurry, maybe even
unrecognisable as his.  She never did.
Lying beside her, he delved into the catacombs of his own memories and
remembered the details that he omitted from her. One particular memory was the
summer he turned fifteen and his neighbour’s son was visiting from Ireland.
 Liam remembered the days they had spent exploring the neighbouring woods on
their bikes. Niall was all right, funny in his own way, seemingly content to
waste away his vacation doing nothing with Liam. He and Liam were the same age,
but Niall looked remarkably younger. He was short with bleached blond hair. New
to the area, he looked to Liam with a certain expectancy - Liam decided what
they did for the day, what games they would play, and how far they rode their
bikes out into the woods.
Once, on a cloudy, humid day they came across a toad trapped in a clear plastic
bag along the muddy embankment of the pond. It was green and black, bulbous
throat expanding as it feebly tried to extract its hideous limbs free of the
plastic.
Liam mucked through gluey mud and had crouched down and descended onto his
belly, the red mud smearing the front of his T-shirt and his jeans. The earth
was warm, bleeding heat against his torso. Red soil oozed between his
fingertips as he pulled himself forward to examine the creature.
“Watch out, some toads are poisonous,” Niall had said, keeping a careful
distance from the toad.
“He’s harmless.” Liam lowered his head until he was eye level with the toad. He
raised a muddy hand and poked it on the side, above its middle section where it
was wrapped in the clear plastic. He noticed one of the toad’s arms was
crushed, the lower portion missing. Globby blood had attracted fire ants, who
marched into a steady line towards their amphibian midday snack. “We should
just kill it, put it out of its misery.” The toad looked at Liam, eyes
comically wide.
Niall crouched down to inspect the toad’s injury. “Maybe we can pull the
plastic off it and set it free.”
“He won’t survive with that injury,” Liam poked the toad in the stomach,
watching as it opened and closed its mouth feebly. “The ants will eat him
alive.”
Niall rose to his feet, brushing the red mud from the hem of his jeans. “Okay,
do it, but I don’t want to see.” He turned away.
Liam looked around and located a large rock half buried in the mud. He got to
his feet, dislodged the rock and unceremoniously dropped it on the toad. He
strode towards Niall and grabbed him, leading him to the abandoned Ames
property by the arm.
“Where we going?” Niall asked, allowing Liam to pull along. Liam didn’t answer
the entire walk to the Ames’ farm. They reached the rusty, broken gate and he
pushed it open with his left hand until there was enough room for him and Niall
to squeeze through. They walked up the dusty entrance and he led Niall into the
barn. He let go of Niall’s hand to twist the faucet of the cattle showers until
rusty water trickled down. He reached for Niall once the water was cascading
down in a continuous clear stream. Unquestioning, Niall stepped under the
shower with him.
He pulled Niall flush against him, letting Niall feel his erection press
against his belly before he leaned down and slotted their mouths together. It
was heady, the prickly press of the cold water, pushing Niall down on the muddy
floor, feeling like he was half god to Niall’s mortal. His first time was with
Niall that day.
Then summer ended. Niall returned to Ireland, leaving Liam to yearn.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam’s mind kept racing to the day ahead.  He already knew he couldn’t afford
another Howard Preparatory incident yet this desire, this uncaged thing in the
false bottom drawer in the windowless attic of his mind, was the sort of thing
that could lead to him losing everything. The large estate, the posh cars, the
hired help who appeared at a click of two fingers, the trips to the South of
France – all these things he had grown accustomed to in the last five years
would vanish like a Shakespearean apparition if he wasn’t careful.
Life with his wife wasn’t an exact hardship. Sophia did not demand much from
him apart from mindless devotion and physical affection. That he could give
her. He fucked her so thoroughly and effectively she fell gasping into the bed,
praise falling from her cherry lips.
“An animal,” she’d once called him, snuggling into his arms. “Underneath those
prim clothes, that’s what you are.” She bit his ear, laughing wetly. “My
animal.” 
He hummed noncommittally, tracing patterns on her pale, smooth back before
pulling her close and saying, “My clothes aren’t prim.”
 She laughed, a deep bellied laugh she rarely gave in public because it wasn’t
proper for a lady to chortle so distastefully. In public, Sophia always made
sure every strand of her hair was in place and not a wrinkle was on her
clothes. Maybe that’s why she had been attracted to him - because of his
station in society, he could never look down on her. In the private confines of
their Louis XVI furnished bedroom, cocooned in imported Italian silk sheets,
inherited family art staring down at them, Sophia could shed the stifling
persona she wore in public. So she laughed often. Deeply. Unattractively.
“Yes, they are.” She rolled onto his chest, splaying a warm palm across his
sternum, red finger tips stark against the paleness of his skin. Her hair was
tickling his nose and he tipped his head back. “The day-to-day attire that you
are so fond of belongs on a man several decades above your age. The only thing
you’re missing is a tweed hat and tobacco pipe.” She raised her head, green
eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’ll buy you a pipe to complete your look.”
“My clothes are comfortable. I like being comfortable.”
“I think you look sexy regardless of the ugly get-up.” Sophia licked up his
neck, her hand moving down, over his ribcage, his stomach. “Because I know
what’s underneath the clothes and other people don’t. You’re like a present,
all gift-wrapped for me.” She closed her roaming hand around his dick, stroking
him slowly. “Unassuming at first glance, boring even. But once I pull at the
ribbons, tear off the wrapping, it’s you, like this.”
Liam flipped her onto her back, latching their mouths together, pinning her
down as he kissed her until she was breathless. Her nails dug into his back in
parallel little lines of acute, white pain. Sophia was right - he was an
animal. She just didn’t know what kind.
                                  *** *** ***
The winter after his summer of sex and Niall, he acquired his first girlfriend.
Danielle. Athletic, sweet, and pretty with wavy brown hair, coquette in the way
of bygone days of corset tops and thick aristocratic skirts. She’d moved into
town after her parents divorced and would be attending school with him after
the winter break. The courtship was quick; boy meets girl, takes her out for a
warm beverage at the mall. Fast forward a few days; boy’s wiping a foam
moustache off girl’s upper lip and kissing her under the mistletoe while George
Michael sang Last Christmas in the background.
It was idyllic and romantic. His entire family loved Danielle and cheer-leaded
their teenage union. She was older by two years, seventeen to his fifteen, but
no one cared.
“Liam has always been mature for his age,” his mother declared. “Girls his age
are too silly for him.”
“Such a nice girl, our Danielle,” his father said. Liam agreed. Danielle was
nice. To waiters serving them when he’d strung up enough money to take her to a
restaurant, to elderly people she came across when they walked in the park. She
was too nice, her candy flavoured lip-gloss too sweet in his nostrils when he
kissed her, the sticky remnants clinging to his lips like a burglars
fingerprints on expensive, stolen jewellery. Everyone loved telling him how
nice she was, how lucky a girl like that would be interested in someone like
him, how he should lock things down with her before she came to her senses.
This last part was said by his best friend at the time and lock things down was
slang, apparently, for having sex.
Danielle was experienced. She told him after they had been dating for five
months, an eternity in high school time, that she’d had a few boyfriends before
she moved here and things had become serious with one of them. When he had
stared at her blankly, she’d leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“I slept with him,” she whispered. Oh, that kind of serious. To him it wasn’t
much of a big deal, but judging by the significant looks she had kept throwing
at him and the way she was tugging at the sleeve of her jersey, she expected
some sort of reaction from him. He wasn’t about to spill his own guts and tell
all about his summer escapades with the neighbour’s boy.
“I haven’t before,” he replied, glancing down at his shoes and shyly kicking
them into the grass. “You’re my first girlfriend.” He kicked at a stone,
thinking it wasn’t a total lie. Those encounters with Niall on the Ames’ farm
didn’t count. “You’re my first everything.”
She smiled, her eyes warm brown orbs. “I love you.” He gave her a kiss and told
her he loved her too.
 A few months later, his parents visited his grandparents for a weekend, taking
his sisters with. He sneaked Danielle into his room and they had sex. Nesting
together in his threadbare sheets afterwards, he thought he could do this. She
wasn’t what he wanted, not exactly, but she was soft, she adored him, and he
could forget about his encounters with Niall that he dreamt about night after
night, coming in his sleep, waking up to reach in his sticky boxers to bring
himself off again.
He succeeded for six years. Then he was assigned as a temp teacher at Howard
Preparatory School and met thirteen year old Harry Styles.
                                  *** *** ***
If he hadn’t worked at Howard Prep and met Harry, he probably wouldn’t have
walked the plank right into his gilded life as Sophia’s pet. The thing with
Harry taught him how quickly the beast he kept in the attic could unravel
itself free of its iron chains, pounce down the spiral staircase, and make
itself known.
 He had been twenty-one, a year shy of completing his degree. His mother had
gotten him the temp teacher job interview at Howard Prep because she hoped he
would acquire work experience and improve his chances of obtaining gainful
employment once he completed his postgrad the following year. Danielle was a
thing of a past. They had broken up years back and he had never bothered to
acquire another full-time girlfriend after her. He fucked around with people
from college. A few girls here and a lad once in a while. All above the legal
age of consent.
 He often thought about Niall, wondered if he met him now if it would be the
same as it was when he used to fuck him in the Ames’ rundown barn. Liam had
tried to imagine him, limbs stretched long, pleasing eyes toughened with adult
wisdom. All he could muster up in his mind was an absurdly tall teen Niall,
bobbling on circus sticks. The Niall of that summer would always be that boy in
the woods, eager to drop to his knees and please Liam.
He was glad when his neighbour lost his job during the recession and the house
was foreclosed by the bank, a huge “For Sale” put up by the estate agent. A
burning heat in his gut cooled. Niall wouldn’t be returning. The correct Niall,
the unsung hero of his most erotic dreams, would be untarnished by the passage
of time. He would remain as Liam remembered him; pale skinned, pink lipped with
sparse body hair. His voice breaking, choking on sobs when he would plead with
Liam to make him come.
Sometimes he thought that maybe he fell in love with Niall. Maybe that’s why
everything else that came after him felt half-arsed, a farce. None of the
passion, the lust, made itself known. Sex with Danielle, sex with each and
every one of the people that followed, was boring. No one could ever be what
Niall was to him that summer.
He had mourned his loss, weeping in his single bedroomed student flat, hugging
his pillow to his chest. He almost did it, typed Niall’s name into a search
engine to find where he was these days. He fought the urge, reminding himself
what they had was so perfect that out of the bounds of that summer, it wouldn’t
last. He showered, called his mother, nodding absently when she told him to go
for an interview at Howard Prep. He sleep-walked through his lectures and was
barely coherent when he was interviewed by the Head teacher, Mrs Blake, the
following Wednesday.
He had told her about his passion for teaching, how he enjoyed shaping young
minds and she listened, enraptured. At the end of the interview, she hired him
on the spot. The next Monday he started teaching, met Harry, and all thoughts
of Niall scattered away like dust in the wind.
                                  *** *** ***
When Liam met someone, he reached in his mind and found an adjective that most
described them. Niall had been pliable. Danielle was congenial. Sophia –
entitled. When Harry had walked into Liam’s classroom that day, Liam had seen
his hair first, a curly mess, tangled atop of his head. The boys in front of
Harry moved away, giving Liam a good look at the rest of him, the wide, smiling
mouth and the awkward shuffle of uncoordinated teenage limbs. Harry in his
glory; undeniably male, but not a man. Liam rose to his feet and wrote his name
in block letters on the board – MR PAYNE.
“Got to be bloody joking,” he heard a rowdy voice say somewhere in the back of
the class.
“I’m Mr Payne. I’ll be filling for Mrs Duarte while she’s on maternity leave.”
Liam’s eyes scanned over the students, finding Harry where he sat near the
window, listening.
“Is ya name really Mr Payne?” a loud voice called out. Liam located it, back
row. It belonged to the overgrown, blond lad who seemed eager to play the role
of ‘dumb jock’.
“No joke, I’m afraid. That’s my name.”
“So if we act out, will we be in for a world of pain?” A redheaded girl asked.
“Correct.” Liam read out what they would covering in that lesson; the
industrial revolution. He wrote out the course work on the black board. It
wasn’t bad, that first day. The students were moderately behaved, the
curriculum easy enough for Liam to teach despite having no experience with the
subject and Harry, Harry was- bewitching.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Liam sat up and looked at the alarm clock on the bed stand. 2:37 AM. Still
hours before dawn and his first day at McEllan. He ran his hands through his
hair and shook his head, trying to clear the ghosts of the past.
Every so often he thought of Niall, his sweet Irish prince, but these days, it
was Harry, wide-eyed and young, staring up at him from his seat by the window,
morning light bouncing off his skin, curly hair haloed, making him appear
other-worldly. Years later, Harry was still on his mind. He wouldn’t be a boy
anymore. Like Niall, he would be all grown up. Soft skin colonised by course
hair, face no longer smooth and unlined. Bewitching no longer.
Sophia was snoring beside him, dead to the world for all intents and purposes.
If she had things her way he would have stayed at Smith & Son working his way
into heart disease and eviscerating his liver with drink in the grand old Smith
tradition. The job hadn’t been that bad. Liam had spent his time pushing papers
and supervising staff that were more qualified than him but were his
subordinates only because he was the boss’ son-in-law. He had worked at Smith &
Son for three miserable years, punching in the clock, slowly withering in the
utter mundanity of it all. Throughout, Sophia would whisper in his ear, “It’s
not so bad. One day Daddy will leave this division of the company to you.”
Inwardly, Liam had snorted. Stephen Smith would not be going anywhere, not for
a long time. Even if he did shuffle the mortal coil, his sons, Stephen Jr and
Samuel, would not let control of the company fall into Liam’s hands. ‘One day’
felt infinity times infinity away so Liam resigned and spent his days lounging
by the pool, working out and burning through Sophia’s bottomless funds. At
first she indulged him, explaining his behaviour to Samuel in a hushed tone,
“Liam grew up poor. He’s just enjoying himself.”
A few months became one year, then two, and Sophia grew impatient with his
seeming lack of desire to find himself another job. Her mouth was often a thin,
red line when she eased into a business suit in the morning and she would say
goodbye to him with a tone. He understood. It was embarrassing that she
supported her husband.
“Liam’s taking a sabbatical,” he’d heard her explain to the vapid women she
called friends when they found him lounging in his swimwear by the pool on a
Wednesday afternoon. More chit chat and they had disappeared indoors to discuss
grown-up things.
Liam had enjoyed himself some more, languishing at their expensive three storey
home, occasionally changing the scenery, taking the family’s private jet to New
York, splashing out on expensive watches, tailored suits, designer eyewear,
little trinkets of ownership in his gilded paradise as Sophia’s kept husband.
After years as a man of leisure it had been welcome when Sophia suggested that
he return to teaching. Trinkets became boring after a while, a big house
confining. And now, with his return to teaching a few hours away, Liam felt the
panic begin to rise.
What if he had another Harry in his class? He remembered how it played out the
last time. Liam steering the class successfully through the curriculum. They
were well-behaved for the most part, especially Harry. He wasn’t the best
student, churning out a steady C aggregate through the term. He attended class
not speaking up unless he was asked a direct question by Liam.
It was enough for a while, glancing at him during class, marvelling at Harry’s
beauty. But Liam grew hungrier, letting his hand linger on the boy’s shoulder
when he handed out quizzes, leaving a note on Harry’s marked script, requesting
he stay after class so he could have a word with him. Leaning close to breathe
Harry’s scent – deodorant, freshly cut grass, peanuts, and sweat – when he gave
Harry a heart-to-heart about the merits of striving for academic success and
how he just knewthere was a top achieving scholar within Harry, aching to be
set free. Harry nodded, all wide eyes, taking in these words of wisdom being
imparted to him.
For a while that was enough – to look at Harry from afar and want him. Then an
email arrived in his inbox announcing that Mrs Duarte would be returning in
three weeks and bringing an end to the temp job. No more history discussions,
no more Harry. And the thing in his windowless attic raged. Liam wavered,
standing closer than he should, let his eyes and hands linger on Harry’s slim
shoulders, his arms and once, on his pale neck.
He waited until, in his second to last week teaching at the school where he
asked a few students to stay behind, quietly working through their marked test
scripts, outlining how they could better prepare in the future. He saved Harry
for last. History was held before lunch on a Thursday and he knew he would have
all the time he needed with Harry. He finished going through a test script, the
last student before Harry, telling her to focus on finishing her work as most
of the marks she lost was due to not completing the test paper. She nodded
before running off to lunch; finally, it was just Liam and Harry in the
classroom.
“Sorry to keep you from lunch,” Liam got to his feet, stretching his arms as he
spoke, walking to the door to pull it shut, locking it discreetly. He knew the
corridors where deserted but it was still a risk, doing this on school grounds,
with a door with glass pane. He beckoned for Harry to stand with him in the
side of the class, out of the range of roving eyes. He pointed at the poster up
on the wall.
“Anne Frank – only fifteen when she died, but she had gone through so much it
trivialises her to call her a child,” he said, looking up the poster. He
glanced at Harry. “Do people ever tell you you’re mature for your age?”
“A few. My friends say I talk like an old man,” Harry said. He glanced at the
abandoned test script on Liam’s desk, then at the closed door. Liam stepped
close to him, noticing a thin, gold necklace peeking out from underneath
Harry’s collar.
“Jewellery is not allowed at school.” Liam reached for the gold chain, easing
it out of Harry’s collar. To his mild distaste and horror, it revealed a gold
cross attached to it.
“Please don’t confiscate it, sir. I forget to take it off sometimes.” Harry’s
face was flushed as he looked at the gold chain held in Liam’s fingers and the
proximity of Liam’s face to his. “Uhh, sir-”
“I’m not going to confiscate it.” Liam tucked the necklace under Harry’s
collar, his fingers lingering on Harry’s soft skin, feeling Harry’s pulse rise
when he dragged his finger across Harry’s skin.
“Sir, I’m not sure what, um, but I-”
“You have lovely skin, Harry. No Clearasil for you.” Liam swiped his forefinger
across Harry’s left cheek. Harry flinched and stepped back. “I think with
further guidance you can really excel in History. Maybe I can tutor you
sometime afterschool?”
“Mr Payne, I think we should-” Harry took another step back, his eyebrows
knitted in a frown. “I think we should pray, Mr Payne,” Harry said, his voice
urgent. Keen, assessing eyes regarded Liam as one would a venomous snake.
Realising his misstep, Liam retreated to his desk.
“I’m not really the praying type,” Liam sank down on his chair, feeling the
weight of losing Harry so acutely it might have been a knife piercing his
chest.
“I’ll start and you follow after me.” Harry closed his eyes and began saying
words about sin and forgiveness and God’s unwavering light. Liam watched him,
feeling the prick of tears in his eyes. This would be it, Harry would never let
them be alone again. Harry completed the prayer and darted to the door, his
fingers clumsy on the lock before twisting it open and walking out.  
The following day Harry was absent. The unease in Liam’s gut spread. He had
misstepped. He had no idea what Harry intended to do with the notion of what he
thought Liam was. One word to the wrong people and Liam’s career as a teacher
would be over.
On Monday, Liam arrived at work to take his first class. Ten minutes into the
lesson, the school secretary announced over the intercom that he was needed in
the head teacher’s office. He excused himself, telling his class to continue
reading the textbook. Tremors went through his hands the entire walk to Mrs
Blake’s office. It wasn’t even a surprise to see Harry seated with an older
woman out in the foyer. Liam eased into his friendly persona, greeting Harry
and the woman - Harry’s mum, he realised. Him and Mrs Styles left Harry in the
foyer and stepped into Mrs Blake’s office.
“I have a serious matter to discuss with you, Mr Payne,” Mrs Blake said once he
and Harry’s mum sat down.  Her office was starkly lit by the florescent
overhead light. Being seated opposite to her made him feel like he was
partaking in a police interrogation. “Harry has said something to his mother
regarding you that is of great concern to me.”
Liam kept his face impassive despite his heart leaping to his throat. He was
ready for it. Those ugly words he never used to describe himself. Pervert.
Creep. Paedophile. His teaching career was over. All these years studying, all
those student loans. He was fucked. They couldn’t charge him. He hadn’t done
anything with Harry, but a smear on his name would be bad enough. No school
would ever hire him. “What did Harry say?”
Mrs Blake glanced at Harry’s mum before speaking. “Harry says you expressed
anti-Semitic views in your class.”
What?Liam blinked in confusion, glancing between the two women. “I don’t
understand.”
Mrs Blake read her notes. “Did you not say that it’s sad to see that history’s
lessons of intolerance and hatred have not been learned as war atrocities are
currently being committed in Gaza?” She pushed her reading glasses up her nose,
peering at him over the horn rimmed lenses. “Did you or did you not make that
statement?”
Liam scoured through his mind, trying to remember. That did sound familiar, but
judging by the cold look in Mrs Blake’s eye, admitting it was not to his best
interest. But it was better to be misconstrued as a bigot than a pervert.
“Those words are being taken out of context,” he said.
“Kindly place them into context.”
“What I said in class was there are historians that have noted parallels
between the Jewish holocaust-,” Mrs Blake raised a brow. Liam cleared his
throat and continued, “and what’s occurring in Palestine at present.” Liam went
on to explain that he had meant no disrespect to Jewish students and that he’d
simply shared real life commentary on current affairs. Harry’s mother seemed to
soften - Mrs Blake, not so much.
“In the future, just stick to the syllabus, Mr Payne,” Mrs Blake said before
she dismissed him. Only when he had stiffly walked out of the head teacher’s
office, passed a stone-faced Harry, and into the corridor, did he breathe out a
sigh of relief. He took a moment, stilling his hands. Never again. His failed
seduction of Harry Styles was proof that he shouldn’t be doing this. He
breathed in, composed himself, and walked back to class.
                                  *** *** ***
It was nearly 4 AM and he still felt restless. Maybe he should take one of
Sophia’s sleeping pills so he could get some shut eye. He needed his wits about
him for his first day. He went to the ensuite bathroom, going through Sophia’s
many pill bottles. Birth control pills. Various supplements. Paracetamol. He
eventually found some sleeping pills and took one, washing it down with the
rest of his water. He flicked the light switch and returned to bed, fading away
into a dreamless sleep.
                                  *** *** ***
The next morning they had breakfast on the balcony, overlooking the pool.
Sophia sipped at her coffee, catching his eye over the rim of the mug. She
placed it down on the table as she regarded Liam. If she felt the effects of
the valium he had dosed her with yesterday, he couldn’t see it just by looking
at her. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun, her make-up perfectly
applied, and she wore one of her many expensive business suits.
“How’re you feeling?” She leaned across the table, taking his left hand into
both of her own. Her voice was low, coddling to his ears, but he knew she was
probably going for soothing. The thing was, Sophia wasn’t a nurturer. Growing
up without a mother and an absentee alcoholic father didn’t gear her up to be
the mother hen sort. She tried, like she was doing currently now. She sensed
his unease, probably guessed it was due to him worrying about his first day
teaching at McEllan. It was astute of her, but then again, a broken clock was
right twice a day. He resisted the urge to pull his hand free from hers.
“Feeling a bit nervous,” Liam admitted because it was better to state one
little truth to hide the bigger lie. One of the staff members came over,
placing Sophia’s breakfast on the table; white egg omelette served with slices
of tomatoes and cucumbers. Liam’s breakfast for the day was beef sausages and
scrambled eggs. Not quite a full English breakfast, but it would hit the spot
and give him oomph, especially considering that he hadn’t gotten his required
amount of shut eye the previous night.
“McEllan students are exemplary and come from highly esteemed families, not
like the students you taught at that other school.” Sophia picked up her knife
and fork. “Our entire family attended McEllan. There’s probably a library named
after us considering the money we’ve funnelled into the coffers of its board
over the years. You’re a Smith now. Anyone looks at you funny, you put them in
their place.”
Ah yes, one of the many conditions of their marriage – taking Sophia’s name.
When Sophia had started dropping heavy hints that she wanted him to propose to
her six months into their relationship, he had listed the pros and cons of
marrying her. The pros were obvious – moving up the food chain and getting
access to the type of lifestyle he could only dream about when he was growing
up. The cons – he wasn’t sure he actually liked Sophia.
About five years back Mr Smith had summoned Liam to his office one day and
asked what his intentions were regarding Sophia. By then, the pros far
outnumbered the cons on Liam’s list.
“I’m serious about your daughter,” Liam had said. Mr Smith nodded, his head
seeming too heavy for his neck, lolling forward like a dog’s tongue. “I love
her and I want to make her my wife.”
“You’re the first boy Sophia has spoken of so highly,” Mr Smith had said. “Why
does she love you? I mean, you’re not the husband I imagine for my daughter.
The type of suitors that have pursued her hand were of proper lineage. What can
you offer her that they can’t?”
“Not money, if that’s what you’re asking. My income is fairly modest, this I’ve
made clear to your daughter. I can’t afford to take her on exotic trips or
lavish her with gifts, but I can make her happy - something none of the others
ever did.”
“Good answer,” Mr Smith said, his voice steel. “Utter bullshit of course, but
good nonetheless. I don’t care what Sophia sees in you, but know this; you
upset her in any way and you will pay. Fuck around on the side and you won’t
get even a red cent when she divorces you. You’ll sign a pre-nuptial agreement.
My lawyers have already drafted one.” Mr Smith paused, inspecting a document on
his desk before saying, almost like it was an afterthought. “You’ll also be
taking the Smith name.”
“We intend to double-barrel our surnames,” Liam said.  “We’ve agreed on Payne-
Smith.”
Sophia’s father considered, head tipping to the side. “Smith-Payne.”
“Smith-Payne it is, sir,” Liam answered with no hesitation.
“You can see yourself out.” Dismissed, Liam got up and exited the office,
realising he had Stephen Smith’s approval to marry Sophia. The knowledge had
done nothing to lift his mood.
Liam brought himself back to the present where Sophia was squeezing his hand.
“They’ll know I’ve been appointed as a favour to your father. I looked up
McEllan Academy. The teachers have doctorates and masters and there I’ll be; a
wanker who barely completed his post-grad degree.”
“You’re young, charming, and I’m sure way more fun than those old farts. The
students will love you.” Sophia lowered her voice, leaning across the table. “I
sure wished I had a teacher as hot as you when I went to McEllan. Maybe you
would have bent me over your desk, hiked up my skirt and seen to my behavioural
problems by giving me a proper spanking.”
Liam winced. That hit too close to home. He pulled his hand free of hers.
“That’s disgusting, Sophia.”
“I’m joking, Liam. Don’t get your knickers in a wad.” She sipped her coffee. “I
like what you’re wearing.”
“First impressions count.”
“Yes, they do. I still remember when I saw you for the first time.”
“Waiting at Plur and wearing that horrible green waiter jacket?”
She shook her head and placed the mug down. “No, a week before at the library.
You were sitting alone, studying. I watched you for a bit and I knew, without
you having said a word.”
“Knew what?”
“That I had to get to know you.”
“All from watching me studying?”
“Yes.” Sophia smoothed the table cloth. She fiddled with her hands when she was
nervous. Liam reached for the twitching hand, stilling it like he’d seen her
father do when he caught her fidgeting. She gave him a weak smile.
“What’s the matter?” Liam asked.
“What did you think of me when you first saw me?” Sophia wasn’t fishing for a
compliment. Over the years, it had become a joke within her circle of friends
how she had pursued a reluctant Liam to go out with her. A joke she told with
grace, but he could see it now that she worried that his first impressions of
her were poor.
“I remember when you walked in,” Liam said.
“Uh huh.”
“I still remember what you were wearing - a white dress with a tiny, gold belt.
Your hair was darker than it is now. You were with two other girls.”
“Pippa and Rachel.”
“But all I could see was you,” Liam said. He had seen how she brushed off the
maître, demanding a table for three, despite not having a booking. She told the
maître that the owner was a family friend and that she never had to book.
Eventually, she was seated in Liam’s section. The way her eyes elevatored up
and down over his body, the pretentious way she insisted in ordering in French,
everything about her had dripped entitlement. But he couldn’t say that. He
reached out his free hand and cupped her cheek. “I remember thinking that you
were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen and there was no way that you would
be interested in me.”
“But I was.”
“I thought you were taking the piss out of me. That’s why I kept saying no.”
“After all these years, you’re finally telling me why you resisted my charms
for as long as you did.” Sophia smiled, her green eyes warm. “I would have
never done something like that.”
“I didn’t know that then. All I saw was a spoilt little rich girl.”
“What do you see now?”
Liam leaned in close. “The woman I love.” It shouldn’t have been so easy, yet
it was. Sophia melted.
                                  *** *** ***
McEllan Academy. Founded in 1864 by Sir Lawrence McEllan. It was an
independently run public school that wasn’t Eton or Harrow but definitely a
kissing cousin. Notary alumni included the Chief Wip of the National Party, a
Nobel Prize Laureate, a BAFTA winning actress, and three Booker Prize winning
writers.
The McEllan Academy estate was massive, sprawling over 360 acres with tennis
courts, a golf course, multiple sport complexes, a state of the art theatre and
woodlands. Nestled in-between the lush greenery were the academic buildings and
red bricked school houses where the boarding students and school staff resided.
He was a world away from the down and out secondary school he’d attended.
Liam parked his car and walked into reception, introducing himself to the lady
in the foyer, who directed him to head master’s office where he was expected.
He walked down the plaque-lined school corridors. In the distance, he could
hear the mild chitter chatter of students, and closer by, rapid foot fall. He
turned to see two uniformed boys run towards him.
“No running in the school corridor,” an unamused female voice called out from
inside a classroom. The boys instantly stopped running.
“Sorry, Mrs Belcher,” they called out in unison. One lad cheekily rolled his
eyes the smile falling from his face when he saw he’d been observed by Liam.
“We’re late for assembly,” the other boy explained as they passed Liam. He
didn’t mean to, but he found himself turning to watch them walk away, startling
when he heard a voice behind him, the same colourless one from earlier.
“They get worse each year,” it said. Liam spun around on his heel. The voice
belonged to a woman somewhere between thirty and sixty years of age, the thick
stage make-up she had on making it difficult to say. She had a shock of red
hair that stuck out of her head like she had just been freshly electrocuted.
The kohl lined eyes she set on him were hard as iron. “You’re the new fellow –
Payne-Smith?”
“Smith-Payne.” He held out his right hand. “Liam Smith-Payne.”
“Patricia Belcher, Life Sciences.” She shook his hand firmly, her fingernails
and rings digging into his palm, the scent of her – stale cigarettes and Chanel
No.5 - wafting up to him. “You’ve already met the cavalry.” She released his
hand and he was glad for it. She had one mean hand shake. “Behold our country’s
best and brightest.”
“Not exactly met as they ran past me.”
“Well you soon will and let me tell you something I wished I’d been told when I
started here at McEllan centuries ago.” She leaned back against the hallway
wall and folded her arms across her chest, her voice peppermint cool. “If
you’re not a gentleman of the sauce, better start now.” She paused and gave
Liam a cursory up and down glance. “Those two sycophants you just sighted are
considered the cream of the crop of the Upper Sixth Formers. Makes you wonder
about the rest, huh? I know what you’re thinking. This is McEllan, decades of
tradition, top notch, high pass rates, blah blah blah. What they don’t tell is
that these children may have all the money in the world, but most of them don’t
know the love of a parent. They act out, they drink, they do drugs, and they
are mean. Heed my words. Last night was probably the last good night’s sleep
you probably will have until half-term break.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m
late for assembly. Glad for the chat. Bye.”
He watched her strut down the corridor and glanced at his Rolex. He was ten
minutes late for his meeting with the head master. He hurried down the corridor
to the secretary’s desk where she informed him that Head Master Dunn was
waiting inside his office for him. He knocked once and a voice told him to come
in. He opened the door and stepped inside.
“We finally meet, Liam.” Head Master Dunne got up from his desk and went around
it to shake Liam’s hand. He beckoned for Liam to sit at the round meeting
table. “How’s Sophia?”
“Doing great. She just got a promotion,” Liam said.
“Good to hear.” The head master drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m sure
you’re excited to join our staff, we’re pleased to have you. I’m also sure
you’re curious as to where you will be placed. ” Yes, Liam wondered if there
was an actual position available or if it had been conjured up to ensure that
Stephen Smith kept making his generous donations. “The course you’ll be
teaching is new – one might say it’s experimental.” The head master went on to
say. “In recent times McEllan has found itself with somewhat of an image
problem. We’re perceived by parents as stifling, archaic, lacking in
innovation. As Confucius said, only the wisest and stupidest of men never
change. That is also true of educators.”
“What does this new course entail?” Liam asked.
“We’re hoping you will develop a course for the Remove and Fifth Form years.
There is a necessity in these years for students to form a strong foundation
for their upcoming A levels studies and university degrees. They are required
to select subjects beyond the required core subjects, a decision, which if not
made carefully, can have far reaching consequences for a student in the GCSEs.
The course we have in mind can be described as ‘life orientation’, which I hear
is popular in state schools.”
“I’m not sure I’m qualified to do that.”
Head Master Dunn smiled, his lined cheeks wrinkling. “You speak to these
students at their level, something my colleagues and I are incapable of.” He
glanced at the large grandfather clock on his wall. “You will have to excuse
me. I have to make an appearance at the school assembly. Miss Ackerman will
show you to your classroom.” He stood up and shook Liam’s hand, cupping Liam’s
elbow and said, “I’m certain that this will go splendidly.”
Miss Ackerman led Liam out the building. The campus was graveyard quiet. All
the students must be attending assembly. They walked for about three minutes,
they no less than five turns.
“I’ll need to get a map, won’t I?” Liam said.
She laughed, “Yes, the layout of the campus is confusing. A classroom’s
location is decided by the subject combinations.” She pointed to a brown stoned
two storey building up ahead. “That’s the Murdoch building which caters for
students taking combination A which is Art, Classical Civilisation, History,
Latin, Religious Studies, Music and Design Technology. So all faculty members
teaching those subjects would be in the same building.” They walked past the
Murdoch building to a path that had a sign that read ‘Phypher Building’.
“That’s you.”
Liam looked up at the building they were approaching, “And who do I share this
lovely building with?”
“You’re course is deemed non-elective so you have been placed with English,
Mathematics, Biology, Chemistry, and Physics.” They walked into the building
and took a flight of stairs to the first floor. Miss Ackerman stopped at the
second door from the stairs. “This is your classroom.”
She unlocked the door and led Liam in. It was nice as far as classrooms went.
Large, despite McEllan classes never exceeding sixteen students. It had floor
to ceiling glass windows over-looking a manicured court and a neighbouring
building. Stepping to the window, he could see directly into the first floor
classroom opposite to his.
“That would be the Shallcross building.”
“Good to know.” Liam returned to the front of his classroom and placed his
laptop bag on the desk.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with, Mr Smith-Payne?” she asked.
“That will be all, thank you.” He walked her to the door.
“You’re welcome.” And she was off.
He sat down, staring at the empty seats in front of him. Assembly would be over
soon and he would be teaching his first class in over six years. He leaned back
on his chair, crossing his right foot over his left knee. He could do this.
Everything that had happened in the past he could put behind him.
                                  *** *** ***
The bell rang promptly on the hour and the quiet Liam had been enjoying
vanished like furls of vapour. Humming, high-pitched voices and footsteps
echoed in all directions. When the sounds grew louder, Liam stood and walked to
the windows where he got his second look at McEllan’s students. Two girls
appeared, attached to one another like conjoined twins. They were dressed in
the McEllan issued school attire, charcoal skirts, blue ties and navy blazers.
One of them spotted him watching through the window and she whispered in the
ear of the other girl before they both turned to stare at Liam. The one that
had whispered, the blonde, waved and he raised his hand mimicking the gesture
while wondering if it was appropriate or not. Patricia Belcher approached the
girls, speaking to them briefly before they scurried off. She placed her hands
on her hips and looked up at the first floor window right at Liam. Liam raised
his left hand and waved at her.
She didn’t wave back.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam’s stood next to his desk, watching as his first class walked into his
classroom. Head Master Dunne had emailed him material to kick-start the new
curriculum and after a quick run through of the attached documents he had
determined that there were enough notes for three lessons maybe four if he
stretched it out, so by the end of the week he would need to draft his own
material to teach in class.
 “Hello, I’m Mr Smith-Payne.” Liam said, ending the chitter chatter that was
occurring in the back of the classroom. “I’ll be taking you this term.” He
explain the course and once he was done, he asked that each student stand and
introduce themselves. Table by table the students got up and made their
introductions.
Watching the class Liam wondered why he had been so worried the previous night.
As they presented themselves to him with their spotty faces, twitchy hands, and
general unattractiveness, he slowly relaxed. He hadn’t been around teenagers in
a while and he built up illicit fantasies of what teenage boys were like. In
real life, their faces were greasy and pock-marked. The sounds of their voices
raked his nerves. Some of them had bad body odour, not the intoxicating freshly
cut grass and salt seaside scent Harry had possessed, and not the earthy,
wholesome allure Niall had smeared all over him all those years back. One by
one the students spoke: Grace, Helen, Ford, Max, Aisha, Chad, and so forth. An
uninteresting blur of faces.
The last student introduced himself and Liam walked around his desk to begin
the lesson. One word to describe this lot? Dull.
                                  *** *** ***
The next group wasn’t any better. He did the same song and dance before asking
them to introduce themselves. How had his own teachers remembered his name? How
could they even tell him and his classmates apart? Because the lot he had here
looked and sounded the same to him. If it weren’t for few subtle differences,
he would have sworn it was the same dull group from earlier.
Later, when the class was over and he was going around collecting unused notes
when he looked across the court into his neighbour’s classroom where he caught
a flash of red hair and the window blinds being hastily closed.
                                  *** *** ***
“I felt like she was spying on me,” Liam said as he took a forkful of his
dinner. Sophia had the gall to roll her eyes and laugh. “It was creepy.”
“She’s appreciating the eye candy that will be in close proximity to her.”
Sophia took a sip of her wine. “It must be a nice break from the old geezers
she’s accustomed to.”
“Enough of me. How was your day?” Liam asked. Sophia set down her wine, talking
animatedly about her work. He barely heard a word she said. He was back in his
new classroom imagining Patricia Belcher’s beady grey eyes on him.
                                  *** *** ***
The following day Liam was in his classroom finalising next week’s lesson
plans. He’d already had the plans reviewed by Head Master Dunne who appeared
pleased with what Liam had put together. The door to his classroom was open and
occasionally he heard footfall of students walking by. Someone knocked
hesitantly on the classroom door and without looking up Liam said, “Come in.”
Shuffling of feet then charcoaled school trousers appeared in his peripheral
vision.
“Uh, sir, I was absent. The other teachers have emailed me the course work I
missed and I was wondering if you could do the same,” a voice said.  Male.
Young. Sweet and hesitant like the speaker was unsure if he was permitted to
speak. 
Liam opened the attendance roster. “And what is your-”
He made the unfortunate mistake of looking up. He saw the lips first – parched,
cracked, and peeling like the boy had not had a drink of water for a long time.
The eyes were dark although he couldn’t tell the exact colour from where he
sat. The boy was slouching, his shoulders weighed down by the blazer he wore,
one arm was curved beneath a stack of textbooks while the other was at his side
with the hand disappearing into his left trouser pocket. Liam inhaled sharply
and tried again. “What’s your name?”
“Zayn Malik. I’m in Year 10.”
Liam found Zayn’s name on the class roster. On sick leave, speak to his House
Matron for further information,Miss Ackerman had noted.Liam looked up at Zayn,
“I’ll email you the work you’ve missed.”
Zayn nodded once before hitching his textbooks up his arm and exiting the
classroom, Liam tracking his movement until he disappeared. He sat back,
running his hands through his hair roughly. Out of the boys at McEllan, all the
contestants that failed to hold his attention, this stray drifting into his
classroom was the one.
***** Chapter 3 *****
The mid-morning sun shown down on McEllan, showcasing its immaculately
maintained lawns. Liam was walking on the main campus path that ran four and
half kilometres through the campus. There was the sound of classes in sessions,
a cacophony of half-muted voices and the occasional dragging of chairs across
wooden floors. It was a ubiquitous sound he heard no matter where he was in
McEllan.
He saw the sign for the Admin building and veered off the main path. The
building that appeared up ahead was four-storeys tall with arching windows that
glinted in the sunlight, blinding him. He took the two flights of stairs and
entered the building.
The air conditioner was on full blast, too cold on his skin after the warmth of
outside. The baronial interior was adorned with portraits of Former Head
Masters. A sea of the great olds watched Liam as he walked in, their stern,
disapproving gaze weighing down his feet, making him hesitant to enter the
staff room. Nonetheless he pushed the heavy doors open.
The room looked nothing like the Howard Prep staff room. It was large: on one
wall there was a state of the art entertainment centre where a Sony flat screen
television was broadcasting a cricket match, while the other side of the room
had vintage style ceiling-to-floor bookshelves. There was a table in the centre
of the room where a woman sat reading. When he approached, she looked up and
smiled.
“You’re the new teacher.” She held out a freckled hand. She was petite, pale-
skinned, and the blonde hair hanging loosely to her shoulders was so light in
colour that it appeared white. “Alice Meyer.”
“Liam Smith-Payne.” He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Help yourself to some coffee; it’s freshly brewed.” She gestured to the back
of the room where a refreshment stand was set up. Liam walked over to it and
poured himself a cup before returning to the table to sit opposite her.
“Where is everyone?” Liam asked as he stirred his coffee. Although it wasn’t
lunch time yet, the teachers at McEllan had frequent free periods and he had
expected to see a few of them here relaxing in between classes.
“I think some of them have sneaked off to one of the rec rooms to watch the
game.” She placed a bookmark and closed the paperback book she had been
reading. He saw the cover -Damage by Josephine Hart. “Head Master Dunne drops
by here occasionally and his presence kills the festivities.”
“That explains the ghost town.” Liam sipped his coffee. It was strong and
pleasantly bitter.
“Where’s your classroom situated?”
“In the Phypher building,” Liam answered. When his reply was met with a face,
he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s too close to The Beast of Shallcross, aka Patricia Belcher.”
“Oh, her.”
“You’ve met Patricia?” Alice sat forward, resting her left cheek on one hand.
“And what was your unbiased first opinion?”
“She has a strong personality.”
Alice laughed. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”
“I’ve only spoken to her twice, so that’s not enough time for me to form an
opinion.”
“Knowing Patricia, it’s more than plenty of time.”
“She advised me to start drinking because that’s the only way I would survive
my time at McEllan. She made it sound like I was beginning a long prison
sentence.”
“The sky is always falling with her.” Alice tugged down a black hair band she’d
been wearing on her wrist and pulled up her hair into a ponytail. “I have a
class so I’ll be off.” She got up and pushed her chair under the table. “It was
nice meeting you, Liam.”
“Likewise, Alice.”
The door had just closed behind her when Liam noticed she had forgotten her
book. He picked it up and read the blurb on its back cover. He finished his
coffee and took the paperback with him when he left the staff room.
                                  *** *** ***
Meeting Alice for lunch became a regular feature of Liam’s routine. She
introduced him to the rest of the faculty. The majority of the staff was a
couple years older than him and eyed him with disdain, apart from Mason
Richard, a tall Mathematics teacher with dark bags under his eyes and a sharp,
pointy nose.
Mason had taught Sophia and her brothers when they had attended McEllan and he
liked recounting tales to Liam about Sophia’s time at the school. The rest of
the staff were unwelcoming. Sometimes Liam would walk into the staff room and
an instant silent fell over it and he knew that they had just been gossiping
about him. It was a scaly unpleasant feeling.
Over the next few weeks, Liam slowly learned more about McEllan Academy. Until
1972, McEllan had been an all boys’ public school. When the academy started
taking in girls, it had to change the boarding house system to accommodate the
genders in separate houses.
All the female boarding houses were located on the East acres of the campus and
the male were West with the faculty buildings in the North. McEllan had also
started taking in non-boarding students, or day students as they were called.
These students attended the academy but resided at home and were dropped off
and collected each morning and afternoon.
Most of the staff had their own residential houses built within the McEllan
estate apart from a few: the House Master or House Mistress and the Matrons who
lived in the boarding houses with the students. Each house had its own Matron
and House Master/Mistress looking after the house.
The boarding students had draconian levels of rules and regulations to follow.
Each morning, the students were awoken by a bell at 7AM to shower, dress in the
school uniform then present themselves for breakfast. House registration was at
8AM and if a student was late they were given lines. Once House registration
was completed the students must then travel to school and be settled in their
classrooms by 8:50AM for Class registration. Once class is in session the
students must adhere to the ‘Classroom Rules’ as displayed in the classrooms.
Each McEllan pupil was required to study a foreign language, music, drama and
art or sport on top of the normal GSCE subjects. In the evenings, students
presented themselves for House registration before they were allowed 75 minutes
recreational time after which they had to attend dinner before retiring to
their rooms to study and prepare homework.
The main doors to the Houses are locked by 7:30PM every night and, aside from
school activities, all students were meant to be in their Houses after this
time. The House Master and Mistresses perform finale rounds at 8PM to ensure
that.
The boy that had caught his eye, Zayn Malik, was in Liam’s Year 10 class. From
the email he’d been sent regarding Zayn’s absence, he could infer that Zayn had
been vacationing at a tropical island with his family towards the end of
summer. He’d contracted some sort of bug and had been hospitalised upon his
return to the UK. He hadn’t entirely recovered and still made frequent trips to
his House Matron, who monitored his progress. All of his teachers were informed
to grant Zayn approved leave of absence and ensure he was escorted to the House
Matron’s office if a bout of illness overcame him during class.
Another gleaming fact Liam had extracted from the email was that Zayn had been
under the matron’s care for several years, which meant that Zayn was one of the
students who had been boarding at McEllan since the age of eight. He lived in
the Webber House, which was a seven minute walk from the Phypher Building where
Liam’s class was situated.
Zayn was an apt pupil. He was shy to engage in class discussions but his
written work was brilliant. Liam tried to engage with Zayn in a way that wasn’t
too obvious. He would walk around the class during a lesson and he would
sometimes stand in the corner to watch the back of Zayn’s head as he worked.
Sophia loved his new lease on life, remarking one evening when they were having
supper about the bounce in his step when he came home from work and how he
hummed in the shower.
“Should I be jealous?” she asked, one long, red nail circling the rim of her
wine glass. Liam would have to make sure he rinsed the glass before the maid
collected it as he didn’t want her to notice the white pill remnants that were
swirling at the bottom of it.
“Jealous of what?” he sipped his wine. After all these years, he still didn’t
enjoy it as much as the cheap beer he’d imbibed on when he still had his
plebeian society membership card.
Opera swelled in the background, a delicate and heart-breaking solo – one of
Sophia’s favourites. In the early days of their marriage, he’d asked her what
the young woman in the opera was singing so sorrowfully about and she’d told
him that the woman had just lost her lover. Lost him how? Sophia had recounted
the harrowing tale about a woman who had met the love her life at a banquet and
it had been instant and mutual attraction. The only problem was that the young
woman was betrothed to another man and despite pleading with her father, he
wouldn’t allow her to terminate the betrothal. Soon she heard that the man she
loved was leaving for one of the newly discovered lands. She called him to her
bed and stabbed him in the heart so that he couldn’t leave her. Liam never
asked Sophia the plots to her operas after that.
“What is it at McEllan that’s making you so happy?” she asked. Around and
around her finger twirled on the rim of the glass. She hadn’t drank much of the
wine so he wondered about how much of the valium she had ingested and whether
or not it would be enough to knock her unconscious.
“Teaching has always made me happy. I like knowing that I’m sculpting the minds
of future leaders.” It was the same generic answer he gave when he was asked
about his choice in profession. It still worked for him after all these years.
“You enjoy your work. Good for you, Liam. There are too many people slogging
through life doing shit that they hate.” Her words were slurred. Liam scraped
his chair back.
“More wine?” he asked as he got up, walking around to her side of the table.
Sophia shook her head.
“No, thanks. Got a big day tomorrow.” She stood, swaying on her feet. Liam
steadied her.
“Let’s get to bed.” He guided her to their room, helped her undress, and
propped her on the bed. He brought her make-up removal wipes, a toothbrush
already lined with toothpaste with a cup to spit in, and a bottle of water to
rinse her mouth.
Sluggishly, she dragged the scented cotton over her face, brushed her teeth,
and spat out in the cup Liam held out for her. He kissed her forehead and eased
the covers over her before collecting her wine glass in the living room. He
rinsed it in the sink and paused, thinking that Sophia wasn’t exactly the
washing the dishes type. He returned to the living room to pour some more wine
into it and swirled the wine around, giving the glass the appearance of having
been used.
He switched off the stereo and all the lights before going to the study.
Finally alone, he could do his work. He locked the door in case Sophia woke up
and sat at the desk where his laptop was already waiting for him. He logged in
and changed settings so hidden files could be viewable. In his C-drive, in the
Program files, he had a hidden folder called Simply Red Greatest Hits. He
selected the Track 01, changed the .MP3 extension to .ZIP, and double clicked.
When Winrar requested a password, he quickly typed it and opened the password
protected Excel file. Contained in the document was everything he knew about
Zayn.
He went over it. The first sheet had scans of the emails he’d been sent and a
map of Webber House he’d scanned from the library, imported as a .TIFF file in
his spreadsheet. He’d learned that Zayn’s father was a film executive, owning a
large conglomerate of film studios. They had started with a small, independent
studio and soon branched out with offices in London, LA, and Sydney. The
company website listed that it was looking to participate in the Bollywood film
industry and had a studio in New Delhi currently in construction. The man was
obviously more interested in making money than raising his son. And what about
Mrs Malik? What kind of mother would send her son off to boarding school at
eight years of age?
The information he had was not extensive. There was still years of data locked
up in Head Master Dunne’s office, far out of his reach. But he had to bide his
time before he could unlock Zayn and the history that had formed him. He
wouldn’t make the same mistake he had made with Harry by trying to move too
fast. To keep himself in check, he’d written down a set of rules for himself;
   1. Zayn needs to know me before he can trust me.
   2. Zayn needs to trust me before I can trust him.
   3. I need to trust him before I can fuck him.
                                  *** *** ***
It was a curious thing, sitting on the edge of his seat, staring at the winding
arms of the clock, waiting for the bell to ring – a signal that Zayn would
shortly be in his sight. The empty class was quiet and seemed larger than its
actual size. It would still be another eight minutes before the bell rang. He
got to his feet to look out the window.
Since the Phypher and Shallcross buildings were twins, erected opposite one
another, he could look across the courtyard right into Mrs Belcher’s class. It
was deserted. She would be in the rec room, eating her lunch to avoid the rest
of the staff. This Liam had learnt from observing her routine.
The bell rang and the sound of students slamming desks and scraping chairs
filled the building. Doors opened and closed then came animated voices and
footsteps. The first student that arrived said hello when she saw him standing
in front of the class. Liam watched as the class shuffled in one by one, his
heart fluttering at the prospect of spending the next hour with Zayn. The
students sat, the sounds dying down outside his class, yet Zayn still hadn’t
arrived.
“Sir?” one of the boys - the American. Named after a car - Ford. Liam blinked
slowly, realising that he had been staring out the door for more than five
minutes and the students were waiting for him to begin the lesson. He gathered
himself and walked to the front of the class.
“I marked the essays you submitted last week and I'm saddened to say that the
average for this class is a D." Liam said, sitting on his desk, looking at the
students.
If his tone was a bit too harsh it was because he was pissed off that Zayn
wasn’t back. Worst case scenarios kept running through his mind. What if
Margaret Mundy, the Webber House Matron, had sensed that something was off with
him? He’d sent her emails enquiring about Zayn’s health this past week. What if
she thought he was a little too interested in Zayn? Child protection was one of
the duties of a House Matron after all. And instead of going to see the House
Matron here he was in this class, with these students who were handing in half-
arsed essays and performing poorly.
"We're under a lot of stress with our other classes," a boy named Brent said.
Of course he would answer, bloody teacher’s pet he was. Brent, naturally, had
managed to submit a nearly perfect essay. Liam had still given him a B.
"There’s so much prep work to do. It gets too much some time."
Natalie, the blonde girl who was always chewing gum, was nodding her head,
“It’s true. We have a lot of other commitments. There isn’t enough time to
complete all the prep work that gets assigned to us.”
"Prioritising is a very important skill. The sooner you learn to do it the
better.” Liam said, looking around the class. “Is there anyone else who’d like
to contribute to the conversation?”
One of the other boys, Maximilian, a burly, overgrown rugby player, raised his
hand. “Some of the concepts you teach are too deep for us.” The class chuckled.
“Too deep in what way?”
“It feels like psychological babble that we can’t really apply because it’s
intended for people who are much further in their lives. We’re teenagers. Our
frontal lobes aren’t fully developed.” Maybe Max’s frontal lobe had been bashed
too much on the rugby field.
“If I’m not mistaken, passing all your subjects is a prerequisite for
representing McEllan in inter-school sports.” Liam was pleased when the smirk
on Max’s face died. “Let’s work harder next time around to get these marks up.”
As soon as the bell rang he hurried the students out of his class before
walking to Webber house. It would be the first time he would be visiting the
place where Zayn resided. It was an old building, built in the early 20th
century to accommodate the growing number of students. It was rumoured that Sir
Elliot Webber himself had laid the first stone for the house. A century later,
60 boys resided at the house sharing everything from rooms to the communal
showers. It was a four story brown stoned building. The front gardens were
manicured with the sprinklers on. From his research Liam knew that the House
Matron’s office was located on the ground floor. He hit the buzzer and waited.
“Who is it?” A dry, cultured male voice asked. It was probably the House
Master, a man Liam was not in a hurry to become acquainted with.
“Liam Smith-Payne, I’m here to see Margaret Mundy, the House Matron.” Liam
said. The door buzzed open and Liam let himself into the foyer. Just up ahead
were the steps that led to the dormitories. Somewhere, in this, ancient
brooding house, was Zayn’s bed.
“Hello?” A plump woman in her forties said as she appeared around a corner.
“Hello. Are you Ms. Mundy?” Liam stepped away from the steps. “I’m Zayn’s
teacher- the one who’s been emailing you.”
“Ah yes, Mr Smith-Payne. Zayn was sick last night, we had to have him re-
admitted.” Ms Mundy sighed. “I’ve been so busy I forgot to send you
notification-”
Liam raised a hand, cutting her off, “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to
check in. Thanks for the update.” He waved goodbye to her and headed back to
his classroom.
                                  *** *** ***
Sophia wanted to throw him a party for his 27th birthday despite him asking her
not to. He wouldn’t know half the people she would invite and would spend the
party making small talk with her brothers and their airhead wives like he had
for the last five birthdays he had endured while married to her. Liam’s words
of protest were met with a knowing smile.
“Liam, it’s your 27th birthday. We have to throw you party. That’s it - I’ll
arrange everything. It’ll be beyond brilliant.” She placed a placating kiss on
his cheek and drifted out of the room. Most likely, she was off to call the
party planner, an old school mate of hers from McEllan, a harpy brunette with a
too-loud voice and had a habit of standing in Liam’s personal space and giving
himlooks. Utterly distasteful, that woman. What was her name again? Jackie
Lloyd-Green.
Days before his birthday, he made the mistake of answering his mobile and, lo
and behold, on the end of the line was Jackie herself.
“Hello, darling. Sophie asked me to get a list of people you would like to
invite to your party,” she drawled.
“Who’s this?” he asked. He already knew who it was, there was no one else he
knew who had a voice that made his testicles want climb back into his scrotum.
She laughed loudly. “Jackie, Sophie’s dear friend – the party planner. I’m
planning your 27thb-day bash.”
“Right, Jackie. I’ll send you a list to the mobile number you’re calling from,”
Liam said and hung up. He sat back on his chair, twirling his cellphone on the
desk. There weren’t a lot of people he’d kept ties with after he married
Sophia. It was an unsaid agreement between them - she knew where he came from,
but as long as he didn’t bring the rest of the muck in with him, it didn’t
matter.
His parents had met Sophia on two occasions; the first was at a family barbeque
and the second was on their wedding day. It was kind of strange that Sophia
would ask him to add people to the guest list. She never had for the five other
parties she’d thrown for him.
He picked up his phone and typed a new text addressed to Jackie Lloyd-Green:
Hello Jackie,
As requested, my guest list;
   1. Alice Fisher
   2. Mason Richard
He paused. The rest of the McEllan staff were absolute trolls. But with only
two names, it made the list look too close on the scarce side. Plus, they
always said keep your enemies close.
   1. Patricia Belcher.
He considered asking his sisters to attend. They absolutely loathed Sophia and
no amount of pleading would convince them to spend time with her, which left
him with one last person who he could invite to his birthday. It had been a
while since he had seen him. They could use the cover of the party to talk.
Hesitantly, he typed the last name.
   1. Louis Tomlinson.
He pressed send.
                                  *** *** ***
On the morning of his birthday, he was woken with breakfast in bed. Sophia had
him sit up and placed the tray on his lap while murmuring ‘happy birthday’ into
his left ear. The tray was white with pink and blue flowers printed on it.
There was a white mug and teacup on a saucer. In the top right corner, there
was a vase with bluebells and a card that had Sophia’s looping handwriting on
it. Liam reached for it.
“Don’t read it while I’m here or I’ll get embarrassed,” Sophia said. Liam
placed the card back, reached for the bluebell flowers, and rubbed the soft,
silky petals between his thumb and forefinger.
“You didn’t need to do this, Sophia,” he said. She pushed aside the duvet
covers and sat next to him.
“I wanted to. We’re celebrating you, the most ahh-mazing husband ever.” Sophia
raised the lid of the plate. “Look what I’ve prepared for you.” She revealed
melted gouda and prosciutto on a toasted, sunflower bread - his favourite.
“Hmmm, you must stop spoiling me,” Liam said as he picked up a piece of toast.
Sophia poured tea into a mug, adding two teaspoons of sugar and a dash of milk.
“I do things for you and you must do things for me,” she said.
Three years ago, a statement like that would’ve made a chill run up Liam’s
spine. Today, he barely heard it, taking it for face value. He’d remember it
four months down the line. Right now he raised his half-eaten piece of toast to
Sophia’s mouth and let her take a bite, laughing when she got sunflower seeds
in her teeth. He leaned forward to give her a lingering kiss.
Throughout the day, the old Victorian house he and Sophia called home had
Jackie’s people infiltrate it to complete the birthday decorations. To take
advantage of the quickly receding summer, the main festivities would take place
out in the estate garden. Liam looked down from the balcony and noticed that
the DJ’s stand had been set up at the base of the steps and balloon lights were
hanging from the trees. Sophia crept up and hugged him from behind,
intertwining her arms in front of his chest.
“Jackie’s done a great job,” she murmured, pressing her breasts flat against
his back.
“We’ll see,” Liam said, pulling away from her.
That evening, the guests arrived in groups. Predictably, he did not recognise
most of them. Sophia’s brother, Steve, was one of the first to arrive, his
Italian swimsuit model wife glued to his side.
“Happy birthday, William.” He gave Liam’s hand a firm shake. Liam tried not to
bristle at the nickname. Steve knew Liam loathed being called William. It
wasn’t his name, but the name Liam, apparently, was a pedestrian name and
William far more befitted someone who was married to his sister.
Liam said his thanks and went outside, accepting a flute of champagne from a
waiter along the way. He glanced at his Rolex. Where was Louis? Most of the
attendees had arrived, but not Louis. Someone walked up to him. Liam tensed up,
thinking it was one of Sophia’s friends probably side-lining up to ask whose
birthday they were celebrating again.
“Since I didn’t see you coming in, I’m officially wishing you a happy
birthday.” It was Alice. She was dressed in a floral summer dress, her white-
blonde hair cascading down her shoulders.
“Alice, I thought you weren’t attending,” Liam said, ignoring the hand she was
holding out and pulling her into a quick hug.
“My sister found a babysitter last minute so here I am.” She shrugged. They
stood shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out at the people in the garden.
“You’ve met my missus?” Liam sipped his champagne.
“Yes, I did.” Alice accepted a stuffed mushroom from a passing waiter. “She’s
very pretty.”
“Why do you think I married her?” Liam said, jokingly. Alice smiled politely,
nibbling on her food. Liam glanced at his watch.
“Am I keeping you from something?”
“Not at all, it’s just that a mate of mine hasn’t arrived yet.” Liam spotted
Jackie talking to some people. “Sorry, I need to-”
“Go ahead, I’ll find someone to mingle with.”
Liam went to Jackie, apologising to the men and women she was chatting to as he
led her away. “Did my mate RSVP?”
“Which one?” she asked, pressing her arms against his side.
“Louis Tomlinson.” He let her go, stepping backward.
“Louis, Louis.” She tilted her head to the side, a move she probably thought
made her appear pensive, but instead she looked like she was subtly trying to
pass wind. “No, I don’t think he did.”
“Thanks, Jackie.” Liam was already moving away when he felt her fingers
encircle his wrist.
“Is everything to your liking?” A teasing smile played at her lips and her back
was arched, ensuring that the pale globe of her breasts tested the limits of
the tight dress she wore.
“Huh?” he asked blankly.
“The party,” she clarified.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.” He left her standing on the outskirts of the party
and retreated to the privacy of his study. He locked the door behind him and
sat at his desk. He logged into his laptop and onto the secret Gmail account
that only one person knew he had. Louis had not responded to the last five
emails he had sent.
He slammed his laptop shut.
                                  *** *** ***
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Sophia asked later that night in bed. She was naked,
resting her head on his chest, still slightly out of breath, her face shiny
with sweat.
“Yes,” the lie slipped from Liam’s lips.
“It was nice to meet your friends.” His friends? He didn’t have friends apart
from Louis. “I’m happy that you’ve settled in at McEllan.” Oh, she meant the
teachers he had added onto his guest list. Mason and Patricia had also been in
attendance and he’d spent a few minutes chatting to them once he returned from
the study.
“They’ve made me feel welcome.”
“Some of them are much younger than I expected. Alice looks like she’s a
student, not a teacher.” And thus the real conversation had begun. Sophia
didn’t care to have met Liam’s friends. Neither did she care if he was finding
his feet at McEllan. What she really wanted to know is who Alice was and if
Alice was a threat to her.
Liam savoured the moment, letting her stew in her insecurities. If there was
one thing that made Sophia stark raving mad, it was the idea of Liam cheating
on her. From day one she’d let Liam know about her father’s numerous
infidelities, how he touted around the world with various mistresses over the
years, leading to her mother’s permanent bed rest due to stress and jealousy.
Out in the lawn, when he’d hugged Alice, they had been observed by Sophia or by
eyes that had recounted the encounter to her in exaggerated detail. He let the
silence draw out, enjoying her jealousy. Her fingers dragged across his chest,
smarting the skin.
“Is she one of those geniuses who completed university at fourteen?” She nipped
her incisors on his left pectoral.
“No, she just looks young for her age.”
“What does she teach?”
“English.”
Although Sophia’s jealousy was enjoyable, it was also lethal. He took great
care to ration it, giving her just enough to keep her interested, but not
enough to make her lash out. Now how could he soothe Sophia’s worries without
sounding placating? Appeal to her vanity by telling her no woman was as
beautiful as she was? Or should he proposition the mean girl residing inside of
her?
“With that white hair, she looks like an albino,” Liam said, opting for the
latter. Sophia gave one of her ugly laughs, seemingly satisfied that he didn’t
fancy Alice.
                                  *** *** ***
Zayn was absent for another week. When Liam took the Year 10 group, he found
his eyes always drifting to the vacant seat, wondering how Zayn was doing. He
must have made a good impression because since his visit to the Webber House,
the House Matron had sent him daily progress reports from Zayn’s doctors. She
seemed pleased by his concern, making a point one Wednesday to stop by his
class, knocking once on the door before stepping inside. She was dressed
plainly in a peach pant-suit, her brown hair pulled into a tight bun.
“Mr Smith-Payne, I just received a call from one of Zayn’s doctors.” She stood
in front of his desk, her hands held primly in front of her abdomen. She was
more than two decades older than him, but she deferred at his leisure, afraid
to speak like she was a misbehaving student of his.
“Margaret, please call me Liam.” He stood, going around the table to stand
beside her. “What did the doctor say?”
“Zayn had relapsed due to being allergic to his treatment. The doctor
prescribed something new for him. He should be recovered enough to return to
school next week.”
“That’s wonderful news. Thank you for walking all the way from Webber House to
share it with me. Zayn is lucky to have you as his House Matron.” Margaret’s
cheeks coloured slightly at the praise. When she lingered, Liam saw an
opportunity to retrieve more of Zayn’s history and fill the cells of his Excel
file. He lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help noticing in the emails that Zayn
has been under your care for almost seven years.”
She smiled, “He’s one of our long-stay students.”
“Long-stay?”
“Students who’ve been boarding since primary school age. There used to be a
handful in the old days, but now we receive a good dozen or so each year.” She
sighed. “People are too busy to be parents, I guess. It’s much more convenient
to deposit their offspring at a boarding school.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for a child to leave home so young. It’s
unconscionable.”
She looked at him, her mud brown eyes widening in surprise. She thought with
the posh clothes and the plum speaking mannerisms that he was part of the one
percent. But in truth, he was as working class as they came, the clothes and
accent red herrings used to deflect his true inherited low standing on the
social ladder.
Liam continued on, “I don’t agree with parents who see children as fashion
accessories that are to be hidden away in the back of their wardrobe when they
become out of season.” It was something Alice had said to him a few weeks back
and it seemed like something Margaret would respond to.
“I’ve taken many boys into my care, but there has never been one quite like
Zayn.” She paused, her eyes distant as she remembered. “He was a little fellow
for his age suddenly brought into a brutish house full of strangers. He cried
himself to sleep those first few weeks, even tried to run away a time or two.”
She huffed a breath. “Not that he got far. They always found him and dragged
him back while he literally kicked and screamed. Broke my heart, that boy.”
“Did you share your concerns with his parents?”
“I rang them up on more than one occasion. Do you know what they’d tell me?
Growing painsandoh, Zayn’s just adjusting. All the money in the world and they
couldn’t spare a few seconds to let me tell them Zayn was depressed.”
“Did he adjust?”
She smiled fondly. “Eventually, he did. Despite it all, he’s really come into
his own. Too bad his father had to drag him on that stupid beach vacation. He
didn’t want to go, but this would be the most attention that man has ever
granted him. And look where it got him? Hooked up with tubes at the hospital.”
She caught herself, realising she was saying too much. “I don’t mean any
disrespect-”
“Marge,” Liam said, watching her visibly preen like a cat from his use of the
nickname. “You’re talking to someone who has a vested interest in Zayn’s
wellbeing. Everything you have said will remain confidential.” He led her by
the elbow to the door. “I know that you are the closest thing he has to a
mother.” This was met by a nod of her chin. "If there is anything that you want
to share regarding Zayn or any of the Webber House wards under your care,
consider my door open." He squeezed her elbow, watching her plump cheeks turn
pink.
"Thank you, Liam. I'll keep that in mind." She left his classroom. Liam
returned to his desk, logging into his Gmail email account that was only known
by one other person. He saw in the inbox that there was one unread email. The
title was blank and he hovered the cursor over the mail. Louis had finally
responded.
Taking a deep breath, Liam opened the email.
                                  *** *** ***
Six years earlier, after he had been called to the Head Teacher's office back
at Howard Prep, Liam had been rattled far more than he would like to admit.
Harry had known that Liam's actions to him were more than leaning to the
untoward side but instead of letting what he suspected be known to his mother
and Mrs Blake, Harry had exaggerated statements Liam had made in class. Liam
couldn't reconcile the Harry in his mind; the sweet, curly-haired angel, with
the Harry who had done what he had done.
In class, Harry glowered at Liam, making sure to never be the first to arrive
or the last to leave. Finally it was Liam’s last day and he cleared his desk
with a deadly sort of calm because he knew he wouldn't be returning and be able
to steal glances at Harry whenever he wanted. He felt an ache in his gut,
saddened about the opportunity he had lost.
Three weeks went by and he returned to campus and wrote his final examinations.
He was surprised when the Head Teacher called him one day and asked that he
fill in for Mr Massey, the English teacher. He had been in a major accident and
would be inferred for an indefinite period of time. Liam had accepted; money
was money and although English was by far his worse subject when he had been at
school, he doubted a bunch of thirteen year olds would be able to detect his
lack of experience.
He arrived at Howard Prep that following Monday, seeing the familiar building
and walked the familiar halls. Nothing had changed since he’d left. In his new
role as a substitute English teacher, he didn't take Harry's class, which was
both a blessing and a curse. The students in his stream didn't hold his
interest, most of them being mousy and pre-adolescent.
On his second day filling in for Mr Massey, there was a knock on the door and
he turned to see a boy standing there. He vaguely recalled taking him for
History when he had been substituting for Mrs Duarte. The boy had dark blonde
hair falling in a messy fringe over his eyes, which were narrowed and too
knowing for someone his age, his lips twisting in a cruel smirk.
“Yes?” Liam asked, when the silence had stretched on too long.
“We need to talk.” The boy closed the door and approached Liam's desk. Liam
felt his stomach squelch - something was off here. For the first time in his
life, he wondered if this was what Niall had felt like when Liam had pursued
him - trapped and hypnotised. It was a bewildering, yet curious feeling.
“Before you start playing teacher, I'll have you know that Harry told me all
about your attempt to fiddle him.”
Liam's eyes widened. He rose to his feet and walked towards the door. The boy,
who was so short he barely reached Liam's shoulders, blocked him, squaring his
shoulders like he was preparing to fight. “Get out of my way, Lionel.”
“I was in your History class, for Christ's sake.” The boy rolled his eyes.
“It’s Louis.”
“Louis, I don't know what you think you know or what you're trying to do, but
I'd appreciate if you would step aside.” Liam waited for Louis to move. The boy
didn't budge. “You're earning yourself a trip to the Head Teacher's office.”
“And you're going to earn a nice small prison cell for fiddling young boys.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Only because Harry ran away before you could.” Louis jeered his chin, trying
to get eye to eye with Liam.
Despite not caring to learn Louis’ name, Liam knew him. Louis was the class
joker, always cracking jokes because no one had ever taught him to enjoy the
silence. Despite his small size, he was two years older than the rest of the
students in his class, having been held back twice.
It should have been the worst thing in the world, being found out by a student.
But it wasn’t. Because, there it was, sudden but unmistakeable, in a look Louis
gave Liam. He knew exactly who Liam was and what Liam wanted. Not only that, he
also held a similar secret.
“You don’t have the right to come into my class and make accusations,” Liam
said. He held Louis; gaze long, checking if what he had seen was really there
before walking back to his desk. “I’m busy right now. Whatever grievances you
have with me will need to be cleared tomorrow after school, find me here in my
class.”
This was said dismissively, like Liam didn’t care whether or not Louis showed
up the next day. When he looked up, Louis was gone.
The next day Louis showed up fifteen minutes after the bell had rung. His hair
still a mess, the white tails of his shirt untucked and no school bag in sight.
“Lock the door,” Liam said. This was the first test. How compliant was Louis?
The answer was; very. Louis locked the classroom door before walking inside,
his gait not quite as confident as it was yesterday. He stood awkwardly in
front of Liam’s desk, his feet fidgety.
“Sit down on that chair,” Liam gestured to the chair he had placed in front of
the class earlier. Louis walked over to the chair and sat down.
The school was eerily quiet when it was empty. The silence dragged on only to
be interrupted by a flutter birds flying by or cars driving past. He looked at
Louis, really studied him. He was an attractive boy, blued-eyed with a
pleasant, cute face. It had been Louis’ rambunctious personality in class that
had been off putting to Liam. But Instead of being loud, Louis was quieted
down, any smart-Alec comments contained, sitting dutifully as he waited for
Liam to speak.
“Louis, please share with the class what it is you wanted to say to me
yesterday.”
“Harry said you were inappropriate with him.” Louis said, directing his face
towards Liam.
“No, Louis, don't tell me.” Liam stood up and walked over to the chair Louis
sat at and stood in the space between Louis and the blackboard, looking
straight ahead like he had a classroom full of students. “How about you try
again?” Liam placed both hands on Louis' shoulders.
“Harry said that you were inappropriate with him.” Louis repeated, this time
looking straight ahead at the empty class.
“Who was inappropriate with him?”
“You,” Liam lightly squeezed Louis' shoulder. Wrong answer. “Er, Mr Payne.”
Liam dragged the chair around until it was facing him and the blackboard.
“But he didn't ask you to come speak to me?” Liam asked. Louis shook his head.
“Speak up.”
“No, he didn't.”
Liam stared down at Louis. “What I'm trying to understand is if what Harry told
you was true, why would you come to my class after school and place yourself
under the risk of something similar happening to you?”
Louis swallowed hard, craning his neck up so he was looking up at Liam and not
at Liam's crotch. Liam reached for his own belt buckle and undid it, watching
as Louis followed the movement.
“Do you want to touch me?” Liam asked. Louis’ gaze was locked on Liam’s hands
as they worked on his belt buckle and unzipped his trousers. The nod of his
chin was brief, almost imperceptible. Liam grabbed Louis’ by the shoulders,
stood him up and spun him around until he was pressed face first into the
blackboard. “You didn’t speak up.”
Liam pressed himself hard against Louis’ back, grinding his erection against
him. “When I remove my hands you’re going to stand exactly where you. Am I
making myself clear?” Louis nodded his head.
Liam stepped away and pulled down the drapes. Mr Massey’s class was on the
second floor with high windows. It was still risky, doing this here, even with
school out of session. But his cock was throbbing in his trousers and he knew,
despite Louis’ teenage bravado, he knew what Louis really wanted but was too
afraid to ask for.
He approached Louis, observing him. Louis hadn’t moved and was still standing
with his nose to the blackboard and his arms dangling loosely at his side. Liam
reached both hands around him and unbuckled the boy’s belt, letting the grey
school trousers pool on the floor.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam snapped himself back to the present, his eyes focusing on the text of
Louis’ email. Happy 27th, old man, the email read. Two and a half years of
silence and this was what Louis - his balm after Harry - wanted to say to him?
He logged off and packed away his laptop. If he drove fast, he could get to
London before nightfall.
***** Chapter 4 *****
He called Sophia while driving. Her voicemail picked up and he left a message
saying that he would arrive home late that evening. He hung up and threw his
mobile aside, putting one hand out the window as he drove.
There hadn't been any other boys after Louis. Niall was a distant memory while
Harry was a perfect daydream. Louis had been his actuality, a taste of what it
was like to possess a boy. For three short weeks they had embarked on their
affair and then it had been over. On the last day of substitute teaching, Liam
gave Louis his contact details, not expecting Louis to actually make use of the
information and show up at his flat one day. They continued their relationship
until the summer when Liam started working at La Plur and met Sophia.
It was one evening, ten minutes before closing time and the restaurant had been
empty apart from one lingering, too-drunk-to-drive-home customer who was being
sobered up with free coffee when Liam sensed someone watching him. He turned
around and spotted Louis standing by one of the tables, hands shoved deep in
the trousers of his pants, looking all of his fifteen years of age. Liam had
ushered him to the balcony and closed the door.
“You know you can't come out to see me,” Liam had said, checking if the manager
or owner were around. He didn't need word reaching Sophia that he had been
visited by a minor at work. If it did happen, Liam would mention it to her and
he would say one of his former student had come through to see him. After his
stint at Howard Prep, he had kept touch with the students and they felt
comfortable coming out to see him and talk about issues that they were
experiencing.
“You don't fancy me anymore,” Louis said, his voice too shrill and loud to
Liam's ears. “I’m too old for you.”
“Lower your voice. I'm at work.”
“You're not even denying it. You really are a sick paedo.” Liam slapped Louis
hard on the face, shocking the both of them. Liam dropped his hand, watching
Louis as he touched his smarting left cheek.
“I shouldn't have done that.” Liam picked up a handkerchief from a nearby
table, dampening it by pouring water from a pitcher and held it out to Louis.
“Take it.” Hesitantly, Louis took the handkerchief and placed it against his
cheek. “I'm sorry I slapped you, but you are out of line. You haven't forgotten
the rules, have you?”
“No,” Louis said sullenly.
“And they are?” Liam asked, using his teacher’s voice, soft but commanding.
“I don't talk to you unless you talk to me first,” Louis recited parrot
fashion.
“And the other one?”
“I don't question your authority.”
“Louis, over the last month a lot has happened to me. I met a girl called
Sophia Smith. She's the daughter of a very rich man and she's interested in me.
Can you see why it would be unseemly if accusations about me fucking a student
were to come out?” Louis remained silent, damp handkerchief still pressed tight
against his bruised cheek. “We can't be what we were. I'm seven years older
than you and it was never going to work out. There are plenty of girls out
there that will be more than interested in you. Lads too, if that's what you’re
into.”
“I don't want other people. I want...” Louis sounded dangerously close to
tears. Liam glanced through the balcony’s glass door, grateful that the other
waiters didn't appear to be paying attention to the melodrama occurring a few
feet from them.
“Louis, I have too much to lose to keep doing this with you. Please understand
that.” Louis gave a shrug, looking like a faded echo of the boisterous boy that
had yelled out jokes in Liam's History class. “Don’t look so sad. How about
giving us a smile?” Louis bared his teeth, pulling a face. Liam lightly smacked
his left shoulder. “Don’t be cheeky, give me a real smile and I’ll find a way
to see you this weekend. Maybe buy you that Green Day record you said you
wanted.” This managed to coax a shadow of a smile from Louis. “That’s a good
lad.”
Liam patted Louis’ arm, grimacing when Louis suddenly lunged at him. He let
himself be hugged before he pulled away, glancing inside the restaurant. No one
appeared to be paying them any mind. He gave Louis bus fare and escorted him
out of La Plur. Later, Stella, one of the waitresses asked who that boy who had
come in to see him was.
“My younger cousin,” Liam answered. She commented that Louis looked upset when
he arrived.
“Oh, poor thing is going through a bad break-up - his first,” Liam told her.
“Such a shame, good lookin’ boy like that,” she said. Such a shame indeed, Liam
thought.
                                  *** *** ***
The sky was a dark grey when he pulled up outside the building Louis resided
in. It had been almost three years since he had been here. He parked his car
out in the front and took the lift up, getting out to knock on Louis' door. He
knocked again, wondering if maybe Louis was not home. He was considering
calling the last number he had for Louis when the door opened and he was hit
full flagrante with the smell of marijuana.
“Mr Club 27,”' Louis announced when he saw Liam. He was dressed in torn skinny
jeans and an old AC/DC T-shirt. “You really shouldn't have taken time out of
your hectic schedule to see little old me.” He stepped aside, letting Liam in.
“What can I say? I like checking up on my favourite former student.” Liam
stepped inside the flat, looking around. It looked like Louis, messy and
unkempt. Clothes and dirty dishes were strewn about. Louis walked past him and
took a seat at his sofa, picking up his lit joint.
“Care for some Mary-J?” Louis took a drag and held out the joint.
“I can't see why not.” Liam took off his coat and sat beside Louis, taking a
long drag of the joint. He held the smoke as long as he could before it started
tickling his throat and he exhaled and coughed. Louis laughed.
“How's the wife?”
“Busy.”
“What are you up to these days?”
“Teaching at McEllan.”
“So a leopard doesn't change his spots after all.” Louis took another drag of
the joint, his head lolling back as he regarded Liam through heavy lids.
“Fucking any of your students yet?”
Liam held Louis' gaze. “No.”
Louis scrunched his face. “Why do I find myself sceptical?”
“It's McEllan - I'd be asking for trouble if I tried something. Plus that place
is like a prison; it's not like I could even if I wanted to.” Liam reached for
the joint, prying it from Louis' finger. He took a long hit, holding the smoke
deep in his lungs. “Sophia’s father got the job for me just to get me out of
the house so it didn't look like his daughter was married to a certifiable
rotter.”
“Poor lord of the manor.” Louis grabbed the joint back, flicking the ash from
the burning end. “Go cry in all your millions.”
“What millions?”
“Smith & Son millions.”
“I have a joint account with Sophia; everything else is under her name. The
house, the cars. The pre-nup is iron-clad. Apart from the few things she's
bought for me, I'm no better off than before marrying her.”
“And that fancy salary you were earning as an exec at Smith & Son all those
years?”
“I spent it all,” Liam said. He wasn't lying. He wasn't good with money and
suddenly having a few extra zeroes in his current account had sent him on a mad
shopping frenzy. Along the way, he'd made some bad investments and even the
chunky 13th cheques had not been enough to pull himself above the red line. He
had gone to Sophia and she had paid off his debts and it became an unsaid thing
between them that she would handle household finances thereafter. “Why haven't
you been answering my emails?”
“Didn't feel like it.”
“But for almost three fucking years? It’s too long.” Liam raised his hand and
caressed Louis' face.
“Don't.” Louis rose to his feet, shovelling clothes off the entertainment unit
until he unveiled a bottle of vodka. He unscrewed it and took a swig.
“I just missed you, s'all. You know you're the only person I can be myself
around.” Liam roughed a hand through his head, pressing his thumbs against his
temple. The dope was of a low quality and he was going to have a bad high.
“It's Sophia. She's always on my case. I have to be Liam, her adoring dumb
husband, 24/7. And now she got me this fucking job at McEllan like she
suspects, like she’s daring me to.”
“You said I was the only student you'd-”
“You are. But the urge is still there. There's this boy, Zayn. Fourteen.
Gorgeous. Choir-boy, angelic sort of beauty. Reminds me of Harry. Frail
looking, like if I touched him with a little too much force he'd break. And
he's all I think about. All the fucking time. And I know it won’t be soon
before -” He wiped his face, thinking about the file he had on Zayn and his
three rules; Zayn needs to know me before he can trust me. Zayn needs to trust
me before I can trust him. I need to trust him before I can fuck him.
“What do you want me to do?” Louis asked.
“I don't-”
“Just ask.”
“I need -- remember when I arrived back from Liverpool four years back?” Liam
asked. Louis nodded his head. “I need you to do that.”
“And it will help you?”'
“Yes.”
Louis stumped the joint out. “Okay, let's go to my room.”
                                  *** *** ***
He arrived home after 3AM. He didn't turn on any lights when he went into his
and Sophia's bedroom, shedding his clothes quickly in the dark, stuffing his
shirt, trousers and underpants in his drawer. He went into the en suite
bathroom and got into the shower, washing Louis off him. After a few minutes he
turned off the shower, towelled off, and crept into bed.
“Where were you?” Sophia asked. Liam reached for her in the dark, pulling her
into his arms.
“Louis got himself into some trouble.”
“And you helped him out?”
“Yes.”
“Tell Louis he better call me first if he'll be keeping my husband out in until
the wee hours of the morning.”
“If I see him again, I'll let him know.”
                                  *** *** ***
Zayn would be returning to McEllan the following day. Liam knew this because he
had been given the heads up by the Webber House Matron, Margaret. In a long,
gushing email she detailed Zayn's return to good health and the date he would
be discharged. His parents were overseas and naturally, the task of collecting
Zayn from the paediatric ward fell onto her shoulders.
“Splendid news!” Liam typed back. Time dragged and he found himself short-
tempered with his students. The hours seemed to creep by until finally the bell
rang and the Year 10 class was his next lesson. Liam perched on the edge of his
desk, watching as the students walked in, but Zayn was nowhere in sight.
Maybe Zayn had had another spell of illness and decided to retire to his room
at the Webber House. The idea of waiting two more days was agonising and Liam
hated Margaret for her flowery email and her possibly exaggerating Zayn's
progress. He got up from his desk and was about to begin the day’s lesson when
Zayn walked in, a mumbled apology falling from his lips.
Zayn was deadly pale, dark circles etched under his eyes, but still just as
beautiful as Liam remembered him.
“Mr Malik, good to see you up and about,” Liam said. Zayn gave him a tired
smile and went to his seat. The rest of the lesson was a blur, Liam stealing
glances at Zayn throughout. When the bell rang, he asked that Zayn stay behind
class. Liam sat at his desk, watching the students walk out and Zayn pack away
his books into a stack. Once he had them in a neat pile, he gathered them under
one arm and walked up to Liam's desk.
“You've fallen behind in your coursework, but I want to reassure you that you
will be given extra time to complete the essay.”
Zayn nodded.
“Are you in any pain?”
“No.” Zayn shifted his books to his other arm.
“Your Matron said I can give you some paracetamol if you ever are,” Liam
cleared his throat, “in pain during class, that is.” This was met with a
distracted nod from Zayn. “I can't imagine going through what you've gone
through at your age.”
Zayn shrugged awkwardly, stealing a glance at the door. Liam felt a wave of
desperation hit him. Zayn had no interest in him whatsoever. To Zayn, he was
just another teacher, an authoritarian figure that he had to placate and play
platitudes to because McEllan’s school code demanded it.
“Um, that’s all,” Liam said.
Zayn shuffled out of the class.
                                  *** *** ***
It was his clothes.
Liam had been too eager to appear like a member of Sophia's old money society
that he had dressed himself in dreadful threads. Maybe if he shuffled up the
style a bit, dressed a little bit cooler, Zayn wouldn't see him as another
boring adult.
But there was Sophia, always hovering over him like a vulture on a carcass.
Waiting for him to default and cheat, prove her father right that he didn't
deserve her all along. If he started dressing differently, she would know
something was up.
His clothes would have to stay the same.
                                  *** *** ***
His opportunity presented itself in the form of McEllan’s Exploration Society
annual expedition. But he wouldn’t recognise it at first.
Mason Richard was the supervising faculty member for the expedition. His
doctors had recently found a non-cancerous tumour in his throat and he was
being admitted to the hospital to have it removed, therefore he couldn't attend
the trip. Mason requested that Liam take his place.
They were in the staff room eating lunch when Liam asked, “When’s this
expedition taking place?”
“Early January.” Mason shoved a forkful of his pasta in his mouth. “This year's
expedition is in Finland. I know it's a massive inconvenience, but none of the
staff members are willing to go because it's in the middle of nowhere in
winter. But school rules states that three faculty members have to be in
attendance and right now we only have two. The students have been looking
forward to this and have done various fundraising. Acquiring Head Master
Dunne’s approval was a mission and if we delay the trip, he’ll just cancel it
outright.”
“I'll think about it,” Liam said. He wasn't interested in spending his half-
term vacation freezing in Finland with a bunch of dull students.
“I'm going on leave next week so once you decide, you can speak to Alice.”
Mason sipped his tea thoughtfully. “She'll take over the key organising duties
of the expedition once I'm admitted.” The conversation moved on to McEllan’s
policies which Mason had admittedly strong opinions on.
That evening, Liam broached the subject with Sophia, and asked her if it would
be okay with her if he signed on to supervise the students on their annual
expedition.
“Who are the other teachers involved?” she asked.
“Alice and Mrs Shapiro.”
“Alice - from your party?”
“Yes.” Liam watched as her face scrunched up as she considered it. He didn't
want to go on the expedition and her final answer on the subject was what he
would pass along to Mason. Sophia was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of
him going on a trip with a woman she disliked.
“You can go,” she said, returning to the Nikki French novel she was reading.
Liam raised a sceptical brow. “Really? You're fine with that?”
“Yes.” She turned a page. “You'll have to do something for me too.”
This wasn't good. Sophia being reasonable and logical was always cause for
concern for Liam. He kept his voice impassive, “What do you want?”
“Not now, silly.” She placed a bookmark in between the pages of the paperback
and closed the book. “Later. Something to make up for leaving me alone.”
“It's not something I want to do. I’m filling in for Mason because he has to go
for an operation.”
“The outcome is the same, nonetheless; me all alone in this big house in the
middle of winter.” She pulled the duvet over her shoulders.
“You could always come along. I'm sure the faculty members wouldn't mind.”
“Spending my break around pimply teens? No thanks.” She snuggled in the duvet,
her eyes closed, her face relaxed. He watched for a moment, memorising the
shape of her eyes, the way her eyelashes shadowed her cheeks. Life would be so
much simpler if he could make himself love her, but he couldn't. Her breathing
slowed and he went back to reading the Men’s Health magazine he had open. When
she spoke, her voice was low. “You'll say yes when I ask that favour. When the
time comes.”
Depends what it is, he thought. “Of course. Anything for you.”
“Turn off the lights when you're done.”
                                  *** *** ***
On Monday, he emailed Mason that he would go on the expedition. Mason
immediately replied back, expressing his gratitude and forwarding an email from
the travel agency. The travel agent wanted Liam to confirm the flight times for
the trip and to provide his personal details and any dietary requirements. Liam
filled out the form and clicked on the itinerary for the student.
   1. Maximillian Grant-Whitfield
   2. Aisha Bharat
   3. Ford Elliot
   4. Layla Hu
   5. Zayn Malik
   6. Kodzo Velani
   7. Clark Bishop III
   8. Natalie Green
   9. Spencer Bailey
He froze, his eyes fixed on Zayn's name. Zayn was in the McEllan Exploration
Society and he was going to Finland with Liam, away from the stuffy confines of
McEllan and the rigid rules. To think he had almost said no to Mason.
Maybe he should have; he wasn't going to do this. He'd promised Louis he would
fight the urge, but there was a creak in the attic and he knew that all the
promises he'd spoken to Louis were nothing but words. Right now, those words
were dust in the wind and the only thing he could think about was Zayn. His
dark hair, those brown eyes, the softly bitten lips…
He typed out an email to the travel agent. “Yes, everything is in order.”
                                  *** *** ***
He was marking student essays when someone walked into his class. Feeling
irritated by the intrusion, he raised his head and met Patricia Belcher’s steel
eyes head on.
“Hello, Patricia,” he said, putting down his red marking pen. She took in his
desk, which was pushed into the far most corner of the classroom, out of range
from her Shallcross classroom's vantage view. He had verified that himself.
Early one morning he had made his way to the Shallcross building and found a
caretaker whom he asked to open Mrs Belcher’s classroom for him because he
thought he had left a prized pen in it. More than happy to oblige, the
caretaker let him in, politely waiting outside the classroom. Liam had walked
to the window, seeing how much he could observe his own class from Mrs
Belcher’s. The answer was: a significant portion. But, there was a blind spot.
The very first thing he did when he returned to his classroom that day was to
move his desk to the blind spot. It hadn't looked right with the big, wooden
desk shoved against the wall with spans of free space available in front of it.
He'd put in a written request for two guest chairs to fill the empty space.
Once they arrived, the positioning of his desk didn't look so awful. At least,
he didn't think it did.
“You moved your desk,” she observed, inspection of his classroom complete.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
She walked to the window, looking out at the courtyard where a few students
milled about. “I hear you're taking Mr Richard’s place at the MES expedition.”
“Yes.”
She walked around the length of the windows and propped herself on one of the
student’s desk. Zayn's place, he realised. The revered throne he'd spared far
too many hours staring at, even sitting in its chair to try and enter Zayn's
mind frame. Once, on a particularly low point in his day, he took out a pen and
engraved on the brown surface of the desk in a crude, jagged text, 'i want u’.
He had hoped that the words would somehow penetrate Zayn's thoughts, permeate
his subconscious. Later, when he’d returned to check on the text, Liam found a
G and L added before the U, and an E after it. G L U E it now spelled out. ‘i
want GLuE’.
He'd called the Webber building's caretaker and asked him to remove the rampant
graffiti on the students’ desk. He wondered if Mrs Belcher had observed him
that day when he'd been lounging at Zayn’s desk. Fourteen other desks she could
have sat at, yet she chose that one. The one.
“Apparently Head Master Dunne thinks I don’t participate in school
extracurricular activities and to avoid being called in for review, I would
like to join you and Ms. Meyer on the Finland expedition trip,” she said.
“Unfortunately the budget only allows for three faculty members to attend.”
“I'll fill in for Mrs Shapiro.” She got up from the desk. “We've already
discussed this and she's more than happy for me to take her place.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Liam feigned a smile, he would be pleased to be join by an
esteemed disciplinarian such as Mrs Belcher. “I'm sure it'll be fun.”
She frowned. “I can't imagine that. There's no fun to be had with these
students, bloody nuisance the entire lot.”
“I meant you, Alice, and myself.”
“I'm sure you did.” She swept her eyes around his classroom and Liam kept
carefully still, feeling like a suspect in a police line-up. “Any case, I'll
keep my eyes peeled for any inappropriate behaviour during the trip and I will
not hesitate to keep any errant individuals in line.”
Bitch. “I’m sure you will,” Liam said. Fucking haggard old bitch.
“Hmm,” is all she said while she gave his classroom another once over, then she
walked out, leaving him seething.
***** Chapter 5 *****
It was the day before Christmas and as customary in the Smith-Payne house, Liam
wore the ugly, knitted jersey Sophia had bought for him four years ago. The
thing was an eyesore with its red and green bobbles, droopy reindeers, and too
long sleeves. When the festive season came around Sophia never failed to haul
the jersey out and parade it like it was some prized family heirloom.
She was currently behind him, her hands covering his eyes as she led him to the
big ‘Christmas Surprise!’ she had been chattering about since that morning
before declaring five minutes ago that she just could not wait another day to
show it to him.  But to make it extraspecial, she wanted to unveil his gift to
him, so now he was blinded by her palms and being guided to said surprise. He
stumbled on something, cursing under his breath when a sharp pain ran up his
leg.
“Sorry,” she said behind him. “I didn't see that chair. Go a bit more right.”
He went right and allowed her to guide him forward. “And…stop.” He stood still,
waiting. “I'm going to remove my hands. Promise you won’t peek.”
“Okay.”
“No, I want you to say it.”
If Liam could, he would roll his eyes. “I promise not to peek.” Sophia removed
her hands and Liam kept his eyes shut.
“I know we haven't discussed this, but I figured it's something you mustn't
think too much about.” She held onto his arms. “You can open your eyes now.” He
blinked his eyes open and found himself looking at the fireplace.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“On the mantel.” Sophia's voice was pitched with barely restrained excitement.
Liam glanced at the fireplace mantel. There was a Christmas stocking with his
name embroidered onto it, next to it was one with Sophia's name, and then
another smaller, child-sized stocking. ‘Baby Smith-Payne’, the pink and blue
letters on it read. His stomach lurched. He was going to bend over and heave
the entire contents of his stomach. He could already taste the bitter bile of
his half-digested breakfast as it crawled up his oesophagus. He swallowed down
thick saliva.
“You're…” Liam’s mouth felt dry, his tongue thick and heavy, reminding him of
days long past, when his favourite pastime was sucking Louis' dick. He’d go at
it for hours, getting good and drunk on teenage cock. His favourite manner of
performing oral sex on Louis was to have him naked on his back. Liam would
spread his hand on Louis’ lower stomach and press him down, feeling the
softness of Louis’ belly that contrasted the straining erection that Liam held
with his other hand.
He’d swallow Louis down, working his mouth on Louis’ cock until Louis was
coming down his throat. Liam wouldn’t let up once Louis’ orgasm subsided, not
even when Louis would thrash around the bed, pleading for him to stop. Liam
would keep on sucking, getting Louis hard again despite his own fatigue. He
would keep at it because he knew he could still wring out another orgasm from
Louis. Now his tongue was heavy and stupid as it was back then and he couldn't
articulate a single sound as images of Louis, fifteen and wrecked, flooded his
brain.
“Pregnant?” Sophia offered, her voice teasing, and Liam never wanted to
throttle her more than he did in that moment.
He didn't want children. This had been one of the few things that they had
agreed on before they got married. He didn't feel the need to populate the
world with little copies of himself. Years earlier, Sophia had said she wasn’t
the mothering type. They'd even scheduled a trip to a specialist for him to
have a vasectomy, but the stupid, stupid doctor had told him that at twenty-two
years of age, he and Sophia were too young and that they should return in a few
years. They'd left his office saying that they would. Why hadn't he made that
follow-up visit? 
“Are you pregnant?” he finally asked.
“Not yet. But I plan to be. All my friends are having babies and I’ve realised
that I want one.” Sophia reached for the miniature stocking, running her
fingers over the embroidery. “My gynaecologist said I could stop taking the
pill. She’s prescribed prenatal vitamins to help me conceive.”
“We agreed-”
“I know. But you said if I let you go to Finland, you'd do something for me.”
Sophia let the Baby Smith-Payne stocking go. “This is your gift to me.”
“I don't want children. You said you didn't want them either.”
“That was before. God, Liam. I was twenty-two. You know how selfish I was at
that age. Even that specialist said we'd change our minds. Remember? When we
went for the vasectomy? Well, he was right.”
Liam clenched his fists tight, breathing down the rage that was bubbling up
inside of him. He was so fucking stupid. Why hadn't he had the ‘no children’
agreement put into the pre-nup? Because here he was, being talked into
something he had explicitly said was not for him.
“I don't want any children,” he said quietly.
“You're saying that now. But imagine a little girl that looks-”
“I don't want any fucking children!” Liam yanked the baby's stocking from the
fireplace mantel, squishing it into a tight ball in his fist. “I told you this,
you looked me in the eye, and you agreed with me.”
“You don't mean it,” Sophia said dismissively. “I’m going off the pill
tomorrow. Imagine it; new year, new baby. It'll be brilliant, just you wait.”
She pried the stocking from his fist and hung it back up on the fireplace
mantel. “Absolutely brilliant.”
                                  *** *** ***
The next day, Liam and Sophia returned home from the Christmas Day dinner held
at her father’s house. She had drank a little too much and retired to their
bedroom. He used the opportunity to retrieve Sophia's discarded contraceptive
pills from the bin in their en suite bathroom and collected the pre-natal
supplements that now sat in the contraceptive’s place in the medicine cabinet.
He retreated to his study with the items, locking the door behind himself.
He carefully pried the pre-natal capsules open and discarded the white powder
onto his desk before inserting the oral contraceptive pills into the now empty
capsules. He fitted the capsules back together and returned them back into
their plastic bottle. One by one he replaced the pre-natal pills with
contraceptives until he ran out of prenatal capsules. Eighty pills, eighty
days.
He had bought himself some time. Sophia’s womb would remain unoccupied. For
now.
                                  *** *** ***
He sat in his study, staring at the powered residue of the contraceptives.
Before retiring to bed, there was one more thing he had to do. He brushed the
residue aside with his palm and polished the wooden surface of his desk until
it gleamed. He unlocked his drawer and pulled out a plastic bag - inside was an
unlicensed mobile. It had been a year since he had last used it. He switched it
on and dialled a number from memory and waited. Once, twice, three times the
phone rang.
“Liam,” Louis said when he answered.
“Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Liam said.
“One day too late but I guess it’s the thought that counts,” Louis replied.
Liam could hear music playing in the background, too soft to make out the
track. “Me twenty-one. Who would have thunk it? Know what I realised today? I'm
the same age as you. Not now, Mr Club 27. But back then at Howard.”
Louis sounded out of it, like he was on day seven of a week-long bender. Liam
didn't know how to respond so he kept silent, watching the grandfather clock as
it ticked on his wall.
 “I saw Harry the other day.”
“Yeah?” Liam sat up in his chair.
“First time in almost three years.” Around the same time Louis had stopped
taking Liam's calls. Too much of a coincidence.
“Three years? I thought you two were mates.”
“We were.”
“Did you tell him about us?”
Louis went silent, the line crackling and the song in the background becoming
clearer. Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain
again. Liam was transported seven years back to his cramped student flat and
its small bed.
He and Louis were laying on the cot, pressed tightly against one another,
listening to the record Louis had brought with him because he absolutely
loathed Liam’s meagre CD collection. Louis had mentioned that this was the
first album he had ever bought, his tone had been nonchalant. But Liam had
known, Louis probably wanted Liam to compliment his musical tastes. Liam
didn’t.
He rolled them over until Louis was on his back with Liam hovering over him.
Liam rested on his forearms and realised looking at Louis, after sucking him
off and fucking him, was his third most favourite thing in the world. Back
then, he could look at Louis for days.
“Sorry, but I've gotta go, old man.”
“Louis,” Liam said quickly, suddenly panicked, worried that it might be another
two and half years before Louis took his call again.
“Yes?”
“Take care.” Then there was silence. Liam switched off his burner cellphone and
placed it into the locked drawer before going to bed.
                                  *** *** ***
New Year's Eve he attended a costume ball hosted by Jackie Lloyd-Green. He was
dressed as the Phantom of the Opera and Sophia was Cleopatra, wearing a shiny,
skin-tight gold dress, her eyes heavily kohled.
When the countdown began, Sophia leaned toward him, smiling with her scarlet
lips. “Happy New Year.” She pulled him into a kiss. Liam sighed and kissed her
back, wondering how Zayn was spending his New Year’s Eve.
                                  *** *** ***
The second day of the brand new year, Liam’s cellphone rang; Mason Richard was
calling him. “Hello, Mason.”
“Compliments of the season, Liam,” Mason said on the other line.
“You too. How did the surgery go?”
“Remarkably well - my doctor was astounded. She called me a spring chicken.”
Mason chuckled.
“Good stuff.” Liam reduced the volume on the telly where a re-run of Dr Who was
playing.
“I've recovered so well from the surgery that my doctors have cleared me for
overseas travel, which brings me to why I’m calling. I'll be supervising the
McEllan Exploration Society on their trip to Finland next week,” Mason said.
Liam dropped the remote. Mason went on. “I know I’ve handed the duty over to
you, but I feel terrible about it since I’ll be keeping you away from your wife
at a time when you’re trying to conceive.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh. My wife is Sophia's OB/GYN, but you knew that already,” Mason said. What
ever happened to doctor patient privilege? Why was his and Sophia's business
part of the Richard’s pillow talk?
“Yes, I do. I just didn't connect the dots that the Dr Richard Sophia was
raving about was your missus.”
“The one and the same.” Mason coughed. “Sorry, throat still a bit dry. Anyway,
I'll send an email to the travel agent about the changes. It was wonderful of
you, Liam, to agree to fill in for me.”
Liam found his fingers curling into a tight fist. “Any way to help a friend.”
They said their good byes and hung up. Mason Richard had no right to go and
recover after he had asked Liam to fill in for him. Liam was supposed to be the
one going to Finland with Zayn, not that octogenarian.
Liam had to find a way to make sure that Mason and his newfound health parted
ways.
                                  *** *** ***
Poison. That was how he would do it. Slip something in Mason's drink, something
not strong enough to kill him, but enough to infirm him so that Liam would have
to fill in for him in Finland.
But how and where? And what kind of poison? It had to be something that would
not be detected in a toxicology test when Mason was admitted.
Maybe he should go for something less Mary Ann Cotton-esque. Like tampering
with Mason's car brakes or pushing him down the stairs. But that would require
contact and suspicion would be raised. He also didn't want to risk killing
Mason - he just needed him out of the way and less of a ‘spring chicken’. Old
men fell ill all the time.
The next day he borrowed the maid's car and drove out of town. At a rundown
internet café with no CCTV cameras, he purchased two hours of internet access
from a gum chewing teenager, who gave Liam’s sunglasses and snapback hat an up
and down look before taking the cash payment. Liam sat down at the more than
under-the-weather Dell desktops, grimacing at the smudged and greasy looking
mouse before he wiped it down with the hem of his jersey. A few Google searches
for undetectable poisons didn't bring up anything promising. He scrolled
through a few websites before finding a forum of writers.
On the first page, someone had posted a thread asking how a female character
suffering with Münchasen Syndrome by proxy would go about poisoning her child
so that the child would become terribly ill, but not die. A few users posted
answers and Liam scribbled them down, noting half the things they suggested he
would be unable to lace in food or a drink easily. Even if he could, with a one
day deadline, he wouldn't be able to get his hands on the mentioned item on
time.
Finally, someone suggested maiden’s apple. It was a plant that grew out in the
woods. The poster had digested it as a child and grew so violently ill that
they had been admitted to the hospital for weeks, vomiting and suffering from
stomach cramps. Liam Googled maiden’s apple. According to a few websites, it
was a small plant that had leaves vaguely resembling a mint leaf. It had a mild
taste, was odourless, and was metabolised quickly when ingested so it would not
be detected in a blood toxin screen. Although it made those who ingested it
ill, it was not fatal and most people would fully recover within a week or so.
Liam logged off and drove to the woodlands.
                                  *** *** ***
That evening, he phoned Mason. “Hello, Mason. How about we get together for
some drinks? Just us lads.” Mason was pleased to hear from Liam and agreed to
meet him at the local pub.
The pub was fairly empty; a few patrons were sitting in groups drinking beer.
Christmas decorations were still up at the bar. Liam chose a table at the back
and waited for Mason to arrive. In his left jacket pocket he had a small
plastic pouch where he had crushed the maiden’s apple. The pouch was open, the
crushed leaves one hand reach away. He spotted Mason’s tall figure approach and
an easy smile broke out on his face.
“Just so you know, I'm buying,” Liam said as Mason sat across from him. Liam
signalled for the waiter.
“That’s not-”
“I insist. I didn't want to go on that trip and your speedy recovery has saved
me from doing so. You are the man.”
This made Mason smile and he acquiesced, saying he would cover the bill next
time.  The waiter took their drink and food orders and they idly chatted about
the winter mid-term break while watching the football game on the large plasma
screen. The waiter brought their drinks and then their dinner shortly
afterwards and they tucked in.
When one of the teams scored, Mason glanced to the screen and Liam seized the
opportunity to sprinkle the crushed maiden’s apple leaves liberally on Mason’s
salad.
                                      ***
The next day Mason's wife called Liam to inform him that Mason was ill and had
been hospitalised. Would Liam kindly fill in for him again? “So sad to hear,”
Liam said to her. “Of course I'll fill in for Mason. It's the least I could
do.”
                                  *** *** ***
Liam’s happiness in arriving at the Finland hotel lasted for exactly five
minutes. The students were retrieving their luggage from the bus while Patricia
and Alice did roll call. Liam had gone ahead inside to officially check the
group in. The school had booked them six rooms, which the nine students and the
three teachers would share, paired up by gender.
    * Room 210 Maximillian Grant- Whitfield | Ford Elliot ^
    * Room 305 Aisha Bharat # | Natalie Green
    * Room 306 Zayn Malik | Kodzo Velani
    * Room 308 Clark Bishop III|  Liam Smith-Payne*
    * Room 401 Layla Hu # | Alice Meyer *
    * Room 402 Spencer Bailey | Patricia Belcher * 
*Faculty member
#Vegetarian
^Listed allergy
 Liam was supposed to share a room with Clark while Zayn bunked with Kodzo. Not
on his watch. He glanced through the glass doors to outside where Patricia and
Alice had the students were lined up. He had to fix this. 
“Can you do me a huge favour?” Liam said, leaning over the counter. “One of the
students has been ill and he's still not completely out of the woods health
wise. Could you change the booking so I'm rooming with him? His parents only
approved him taking this trip as long as I would be keeping a close eye on
him.” He gave the receptionist a pained smile.
“Uh sir, the room bookings are pre-set,” she said, her voice young and sweetly
accented.
“I'm sure we could move the names around. See that right there? Swap Zayn Malik
with Clark Bishop.”
“We can’t make amendments to room bookings after 1PM.” She reached for the
telephone. “I'll have to call the manager.” Liam glanced outside.
“Never mind,” he said as he watched the students led by Patricia walking
towards the entrance. “May I have the room cards?”
“Okay, please sign here and here.” She handed him forms.
Liam quickly signed, grabbing the twelve set of keys, and moved away from the
reception desk.
“Hello, we're congregating in the lobby,” he shouted to the slow-moving crowd.
“Make haste and stop blocking the entrance.” Once everyone was in the lobby, he
said, “The room pairings are as follows-”
“We're sharing rooms? How pedestrian,” Natalie complained.
“If you had raised the targeted funds, there wouldn't be a need,” Alice said.
“I don't know why you're complaining since you share rooms at McEllan.”
“But that's school. You're supposed to.” Natalie rolled her eyes.
“As I was saying, the room pairing are as follows…” Liam read them out,
swapping around Clark and Zayn’s names. He handed out the keys to the pairs as
he called out the names. “You will go to your rooms, have a recess, and then we
will meet here in exactly forty-five minutes for the kick-off event. No more no
less. We may be in Finland, but McEllan rules still apply. Any questions?” No
one raised their hand. “Okay, let's go.”
He watched the students as they shuffled away and approached Zayn who was bent
over his suitcase. “Do you need any help with your bags?”
Zayn shook his head and dragged his suitcase to the lift. Four people were
waiting at the lift and one of them was Patricia, unfortunately. Liam carried
his bag to the lift, standing a nonchalant distance from Zayn as they waited
for a lift.
“Wow, it’s cold,” he heard Aisha say.
“Duh, what did you expect?” Natalie said snidely.
“I hope you packed all the necessary clothing as we wouldn’t want McEllan to
lose a student to hypothermia,” Patricia warned, sounding like she wanted the
exact opposite.
The lift arrived and Zayn and Liam stood back as the four ladies got on. Once
Aisha, Natalie, Spencer, Patricia, and all their luggage were in the lift,
there was just enough space to fit one more person.
“Go ahead, Zayn,” Liam said. “I’ll catch the next lift.” Zayn mumbled a thanks
and got in. Liam waited for the next lift and when it arrived, he got in and
pressed the third floor button.
He arrived at his floor and looked for room 308, which was his and Zayn’s room.
He found their room, unlocked the door and peeked in.  Apart from Zayn’s
discarded bag on the floor, there was no sign of him. The en suite bathroom
door was closed and Liam put down his suitcases and pressed an ear to it. He
couldn’t hear anything. He opened his bags and changed out of his travel
clothes, half hoping Zayn would come out of the bathroom and find him half
undressed. There was no such luck.
He dressed and put his bags away, grabbed the remote, and got onto the bed
nearest to the bathroom before switching the telly on. He flipped through the
channels until he found a re-run of CSI. About ten minutes into the episode,
the bathroom door opened and Zayn walked out.
“Uh, I wasn’t sure which bed you wanted,” Liam found himself saying. “We can
swap if you want this one. I don’t mind.” Could he sound more like a loser?
“S’okay.” Zayn flopped onto the other bed and pulled his iPhone from his
pocket. Liam hadn’t heard the loo flush or water running and he wondered what
Zayn had been doing in the bathroom for so long.
“CSI’s on,” Liam said. “I can change the channel if you want something else.”
“M’not watching.” Zayn turned to his side presenting his back to Liam, his
cellphone making little clicking noises as he typed on it.
“Have you been looking forward to the trip?” Liam asked.
“No.”Click. Click. Click.
“I guess you drew the short straw.”
“Huh?”
“Rooming with a teacher.”
Zayn shrugged.
“I’m sure you would much rather be rooming with one of your mates.”
“Those lads aren’t my mates,” Zayn said.
Liam switched off the telly. “I thought that since you’re all in MES, you would
get on.”  
Zayn typed something - one last click – and his cellphone locked. He placed his
phone down on the pillow, flipped onto his back. “I just needed an
extracurricular activity.”
“I’m sure this trip will provide you with an opportunity to get to know the
other students, maybe make some new friends.” Liam wanted to switch the
television back on because without the background noise, the room was too
quiet.
Another shrug. “Maybe.”
“What other groups are you a member of?”
“The choir.”
“You enjoy it?”
“It’s okay.” Zayn drummed his fingers on the bed covers. Liam wanted to say
something else, but Zayn’s bloody phone chimed again and Zayn picked it up,
reading through it before pocketing it.
Zayn got his suitcase from the floor and pulled items of clothing out before
heading to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Liam tried not to be
bothered by the idea that Zayn didn’t want to change in front of him and
distracted himself by checking his cell phone for new messages. There were a
few missed calls from Sophia with an accompanying voicemail which he ignored
and scrolled passed. Mason's wife had texted him, saying that Mason had
stabilised. Liam replied. “Fingers crossed for a speedy recovery!”
The bathroom door opened and out exited Zayn, dressed in different clothing.
“I’m heading out,” Zayn walked towards the door. Where to? Liam wanted to ask.
The kick-off event wouldn’t be for another twenty minutes. When the door closed
after Zayn, Liam got up and lay down on Zayn’s bed, before he switched the
telly back on.
                                  *** *** ***
They were in the hotel’s conference venue, which was all spruced up for the
event. Their local guides for the expedition, Jan and Anders, introduced
themselves and went through their PowerPoint presentation of the upcoming
week's activities.
“This is going to be a boring week,” Alice whispered into Liam's ear as Jan and
Anders played a montage of prior year expeditions.
“It's only the first night so I will withhold judgement for the moment,” Liam
said.
“Maybe I should try to do likewise.”
Patricia whipped her head around and whispered, “Shhh!”
Alice glanced at Liam, smothering her giggle with her hand. Jan and Anders
finished up with their presentation. The lights were dimmed and the dance floor
was opened, strobe lights coming on as nineties rock blared from the karaoke
machine in the corner. The first tune to come on was Let Me Entertain You by
Robbie Williams. The students ignored the music and talked amongst themselves.
Liam looked around and found Zayn chatting with Spencer in the back corner of
the room.  Liam reached for Alice’s arm.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
“I'm not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I,” Liam said. “The students will be more amiable to dancing if
they see us dancing.”
He wasn't sure how true that was, but Alice allowed herself to be led to the
middle of the floor and awkwardly two-stepped with him. More students joined
the dance floor and Ford started doing some moves that looked like he had
gotten them straight out of a “How to dance like Usher” YouTube video. When
Liam checked for Zayn again, he still stood in the back, a coffee mug in his
hand, chatting to Spencer and Clark who had now joined the huddle.
As the night grew late, Alice introduced Liam to Irish coffee. Patricia was a
wet blanket, as usual, skulking around looking for students who may have
strayed from the conference room to snog or engage in illicit behaviour. Alice
offered her some of the Irish coffee and Patricia sneered, saying it was
unseemly to drink when they were chaperoning students.
“It’s to warm up; it's not like we're getting blind drunk,” Alice said as soon
as Patricia was out of ear shot. Liam agreed, taking a liberal sip of his own
drink. The dance floor was empty as the students went back to loitering in
groups in the corner of the room. Patricia returned from outside, her coat in
hand, snow melting on her shoulders and hair.
“I can't find Zayn and Maximilian,” she said. There was a gleam in her eye like
she was glad to have found something amiss and finally prove just how
lacklustre Alice and Liam’s chaperoning chops were.
“Maybe they are in the gents,” Alice said. She glanced at Liam. “Please go
check.”
Liam went to the gents and found it empty. Instead of returning to the room
where the party was taking place, he went to the dining hall. Upon glancing
inside, he found it empty. He left the dining hall and exited the hotel. It was
snowing and he shivered, mentally kicking himself for not bringing his coat
with him. The view was gorgeous: the hotel grounds was lit up by many lights
and the snow provided a picturesque background. The stars seemed to shine extra
bright, glinting in the sky like little jewels.
He was preparing to step back inside the hotel when he heard scuffling coming
from behind the trees. He took the steps two at a time and ran down, turning
left to find Max head locking Zayn as he kneed him in the gut.
“Fucking loser,” Max was saying through gritted teeth. Liam immediately threw a
punch directly into Max's side. Max lurched, letting go of Zayn, who fell onto
the ground limply. “What the fuc-” Whatever Max had intended to say got trapped
in his throat as he turned and met Liam's eye. “Mr Smith-Payne.” He gulped.
Liam threw him a murderous look and crouched down to check on Zayn.
“Are you okay?” Liam asked. Zayn nodded, ignoring Liam's outstretched hands and
got to his feet. “What's going on here?”
“Zayn and I were just goofing about.” Max placed his left arm over Zayn's
shoulder and nudged him. “Isn’t that right, Zayn? We’re just being laddie
lads.” Zayn had a hand pressed to his middle section and his breaths came in
tiny gasps. His jaw was set tight and he wouldn't meet Liam's eyes.
“Yeah,” Zayn said.
Liam looked from Zayn to Max, “My mistake,” Liam said. A fresh gust of wind
blew and he shivered, remembering he wasn't wearing a jacket. “Get inside,
boys.”
“Yes, sir.” Max tightened his arm around Zayn's shoulders. “Let's get going,
mate. Wouldn't want to miss all the festivities.” He led Zayn inside, Liam
trailing behind them.
                                  *** *** ***
After escorting Zayn and Max back to the party, Liam excused himself from Alice
and Patricia and found an empty meeting room on the ground floor. He closed the
door and pulled out his cellphone, dialling Margaret’s number. The phone rang
once before she answered.
“Hello, Margaret. Sorry to call you so late, but I just witnessed something
that concerns me,” Liam said, sitting down at the table.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Maximilian Grant-Whitfield- how is he and Zayn's relationship?” There was
silence on the end of the line.
“I can't share a student's personal information without their guardian's
approval,” she said, her voice resigned and tired.
“When I say what I saw disturbed me - I'm not exaggerating. He had Zayn in a
headlock and was driving his knee into Zayn's midsection. When I broke up -
what I’m certain was a fight - he said that he and Zayn were goofing around and
Zayn agreed with him, despite obviously being in a tremendous amount of pain.”
Liam sighed. “Can you shed any light on this matter?”
“Max is also one of our long stays,” Margaret said. “He arrived a year before
Zayn and they were roomed together at Webber House. Zayn would often appear at
morning reg. with bruised legs and arms.”
“Max was bullying Zayn?”
“We never had concrete evidence and Zayn wouldn't say how he got his injuries.”
“And this has been going on for years?”
“I had Max moved to another House. I thought the bullying stopped after that.”
“Why would Zayn agree to go on this trip if he's being bullied by one of the
MES members?”
“He probably figured a few days of torture is better than months. MES is only
active for a few weeks a year, yet it counts as a full extracurricular
activity. Max is in most of the other groups and Zayn would have to spend more
time around him if he joined them.”
“I don't see why he would play along with Max and pretend he's not being
bullied.”
“McEllan is a school built on tradition and the students are taught that
loyalty, first and foremost, is the most important thing. Of course he won’t
tell on a fellow McEllanian, especially a boy a year senior to him. That would
be unseemly and un-McEllanian.”
“So he would rather suffer in silence?”
“That's what the forefathers would do.”
“This school.” Liam sighed. “Marge, thanks for taking my call.”
“You can't- Liam, no one else must know that I told you-”
“I'll keep what I've learnt under the strictest confidence,” Liam said. “Leave
Max to me.”
They said goodbye and hung up. Liam pocketed his phone. He would sort Max out;
show that overgrown waste of space what it was like to mess with someone bigger
than him. He was lucky that that piece of shit hadn't complained about the
punch Liam had given him. McEllan teachers weren't allowed to lay a hand on
students. He would find something else, something that would not be linked back
to him.
Liam returned to the party and he found Max as he soon as he entered the room.
He kept his eyes on him for the rest of the night.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Just before midnight, Jan announced that the music would be cut shortly. The
students groaned before they filed out the venue and headed for their rooms.
When Liam saw Zayn leave, he said goodbye to Alice and Patricia and took the
stairs two at a time to get to the third floor, where he found Zayn at their
room door, rummaging in his pockets for his key. Liam pulled out his own room
card, unlocked the door, and they walked inside.
 “I feel knackered,” Liam said. Zayn ignored him and opened the en suite
bathroom before locking the door behind himself.
Liam changed out of his clothes into his sleepwear before sitting on the bed,
arms crossed as he waited for Zayn. A few minutes passed before the loo flushed
and Zayn walked out the bathroom. Zayn pulled his overnight bag from the
wardrobe, rummaged through it, gathered some clothes, and headed back towards
the bathroom. The door shut, then there was some silence before it opened and
Zayn walked out, dressed in tailored sleepwear with ZM knitted on the right
breast pocket. Zayn got into his own bed and pulled the covers over his head.
“Zayn, about Max-”
 “Turn the lights off when you’re done,” Zayn said. Liam flipped the light
switch and sat in the dark, listening to Zayn breathe.
                                  *** *** ***
The McEllan group met at the dining hall at 8AM where a breakfast buffet was
set up for them. It was still pitch black outside as the sun rose around 10AM
in the Lapland region mid-January. Liam had eggs, bacon, hash browns, and
unsweetened black coffee. He sat with Alice and Patricia at the end of the
table while the nine students congregated at the other end. Alice was in a bad
mood and downed a green drink that the staff had promised her would cure a
hangover, wincing when the student’s chatter turned up a notch in volume.
“The NFL will never make it outside of the States,” Kodzo proclaimed loudly
from his end of the table. “It’s misnamed for starters - don’t call it
‘football’. Call it ‘dropball’ or ‘catchball’.”
Ford rolled his eyes. “Very original, Kodzo. Football is our national sport, so
we don’t need to go global with it.”
“I thought baseball was the US’s national sport?” Layla chimed.
“It depends who you ask,” Ford quipped. “Doesn’t matter if the NFL doesn’t go
global; we still kick ass in soccer. You haven’t forgotten that World Cup match
when we won two-to-one against your countrymen?”
“It was a-” Kodzo began to say, shutting up immediately when he saw that
Patricia had stood up and was giving him a stern look.
“I didn't even drink that much,” Alice whispered to Liam as Patricia admonished
Ford and Kodzo.
“Maybe the coffee hid the alcohol content,” Liam said.
“Maybe.” She finished off her green drink.
Once everyone had eaten, the group met Jan in front of the hotel and he
explained how they would proceed with the day's activities, today they would
visit a husky farm. Liam made sure to check where Max was seated (in the back
with Ford) and Zayn (in middle left row with Spencer).
They soon arrived at the husky farm and Jan spoke to the driver before telling
the students that they could disembark. There were a few dogs looking
inquisitively at the group, running around in the snow.
“Oh my gawd, they're too cute!” Layla shouted as she got off the bus.  
“Let's keep moving,” Jan said. He led them through the back of the kennels,
where they met the owners of the ranch, the Laaksonens, a salt and peppered
haired couple. They sat the students down in the living room and talked about
how they came to own a husky farm in the middle of the near Artic wilderness.
“Enough about us, we’re going to discuss how to ride a two person sledge,” Mrs
Laaksonen said. “In a two person sledge, one person will be the driver and
other will travel as a passenger.”
Liam watched as the students were taken through an introductory lecture about
‘mushing’ before Mrs Laaksonen asked each team to pick eight huskies for the
sled ride the next day. They were led outside to the kennels where the huskies
barked and jumped in their cages.
“I've officially died and gone to puppy heaven.” Natalie took out her
cellphone, snapping a few quick photos of some puppies in their kennel. “Can we
touch them?”
“No. It upsets the mother when they smell like humans.” Jan crouched down at
the kennel. They were four huskies, huddled together in a grey, silver, and
white bundle. The mum, a large husky with clear blue eyes was in the corner,
eyes on the two-legged strangers nearing her young. She rose to her feet and
walked to her pups. “The mother is fiercely protective and one might lose a
finger if you tried to pet them.” Jan laughed.
Natalie turned to Layla and rolled her eyes, mouthing ‘whatever’. Liam walked
up to Zayn, where he stood at one of the cages staring at an older, grey husky.
“He couldn't be less interested in us,” Liam said, standing beside Zayn.
“That's true.” Zayn held out one of the treats the dog handlers had passed out
to them. “Boy,” he whistled.
The old husky got to his feet and sniffed at the outstretched snack
suspiciously before biting down on it and taking it back to his corner. Mrs
Laaksonen approached, placing her hand on Zayn's shoulder.
“Oskar is one of the older huskies. We've taken him out of sledding because of
the vet's recommendation,” she said. “He's still a big puppy at heart and loves
to play.” She unlocked the kennel and Oskar ran out, jumping on her before
sniffing and slobbering on her face. “Down,” she said sternly and Oskar sat
down. “Good boy, such a good boy.” She stroked his head, scratching his greying
temple.
Zayn crouched down beside Oskar and patted him. “His fur is so thick,” he said,
stroking Oskar's back.
“It’s necessary to survive the cold climate.” She smiled and walked off to tend
to the other students.
“We need to pick eight huskies for the sled ride,” Liam crouched down beside
Zayn who was still patting Oskar.
“I want Oskar,” Zayn said.
“His owner said that he’s not up to it,” Liam said. “There are a few other dogs
that are healthy enough for sled rides; we can pick any of them.”
“Why're they keeping him in that cage if he's so old?”
“All the huskies are kept in kennels.”
“It looks too small.”
“The kennels are standard.” Liam placed his hand on Zayn's shoulder. “He’s fine
- look at him. Does he look like a sad, depressed dog?” Zayn shook his head.
“That's because he's not. The owners aren't mistreating him. Let's pick another
dog, yeah?”
Zayn shrugged Liam's hand off his shoulder and stalked away.
                                  *** *** ***
When every pair had picked their huskies for the following day’s sled rides,
they went for snowmobile rides through the forest and over the frozen lake
before returning to the hotel for lunch. After that, the afternoon activity was
a written essay and group work.
After everyone had completed their work, dinner was served in the dining hall.
That evening’s activity was ‘game night’ hosted by Anders and Jan, which the
group participated in before they were done for the day. Zayn stayed back,
talking to Spencer. Liam swallowed down his jealousy before he went back to the
hotel room to shower.  
Liam turned on the faucets, adjusting the temperature until the water was just
right. He tilted his face upward to the nozzle. He wanted Zayn. He had wanted
him from the time he looked up and seen him. He remembered when Zayn stepped
out of the bathroom this morning already dressed, his wet hair falling onto his
forehead.
Liam enclosed a soapy hand around his semi-hard cock. He wondered when Zayn had
jerked off last. When did he find the privacy to do so, with a shared room and
communal showers? Maybe when his roommate was off for one of the school’s
extracurricular activities, Zayn eased a hand in his boxer briefs and got
himself off. He would make it quick, jerking himself in rapid strokes because
he wouldn't know when his roommate would be returning.
This morning when he’d seen Zayn, he’d wanted to taste Zayn’s lips to see if
they were as sweet as they looked. He wanted to lick him. He wanted to get
those clothes off Zayn and look at him, fucking sink his teeth into him. He’d
wanted to flip Zayn onto his stomach then press his hard cock against Zayn’s
arse.  Liam came, thick white streaks of come hitting the glass walls before
sliding down to the shower tiles.
He stood still, catching his breath, before kicking his come down the drain and
washing his hair with the small, sample-sized hotel shampoo. When he stepped
out the shower, he draped a towel around his waist and pulled the bathroom door
open to find that Zayn had returned to their room and was laying on the bed,
earphones on, as he listened to music on his cellphone.
Liam walked to the wardrobe and pulled out his suitcase. He dropped the towel
and dressed in loose joggers and a T-shirt. When he turned around, Zayn was
still rooted to the spot, his eyes closed. Liam wondered if Zayn had kept them
shut the entire time when he had been changing. He walked to Zayn and pulled
one earphone out of Zayn's ear. Zayn startled and sat up.
“What are you doing?” Zayn yanked his earphone back.
“We need to talk about Max.” Liam sat down on the edge of Zayn's bed.
“There's nothing to talk about,” Zayn said, twisting the earphone strings
around his fingers.
“I spoke to your House Matron.” He watched Zayn twist the white cords tighter.
“She told me that Max has been bullying you ever since you got to McEllan.”
“S'not true.”
“Lift up your jersey,” Liam said. Zayn glanced up at him so quickly Liam could
swear he heard the tendons in his neck snap.
“What?”
“You heard me, lift your jersey up.” Liam waited, staring Zayn down. Zayn
averted his eyes, twisting the white earphone cords so tight the tips of his
fingers turned white as his circulation got cut off.
“No,” Zayn said. Liam reached out and yanked the cellphone out of Zayn's hands.
He let it fall on the bed before picking at the tail end of the jersey Zayn was
wearing, pulling it up, and exposing the yellow and blue bruises on Zayn's hips
and midsection.
“Stop! You can't do this.” Zayn struggled as Liam pulled the jersey up and over
his head, revealing the fist-sized contusions on his back and ribs. Zayn
stopped struggling, turning his back to Liam as he breathed shallowly.
Liam looked at the purple and blue injuries all over Zayn's side and back.
Someone had beat Zayn, careful to keep it below the neck so it wasn't obvious.
Some of the bruises were a week or so old, healing in a ghastly jaundiced
yellow. The others, the ones on his hips, were new, blooming blue and purple.
Liam felt his skin prickle red hot as a breathless rage washed over him.
“Did Max do this to you?” he asked. Zayn nodded. “This isn't right. That
little-” Liam sprang to his feet, trying to recall which room Max was in. He
was going to throttle the daylight out of that posh, in-bred little fuck. He
was going to pummel his fist into Max’s smug face until he felt that little
bastard's bones crack.
“You can't say anything.” Zayn was behind him, gripping Liam's arms.
“He's beating you for sport and I'm supposed to not say anything?” Liam turned,
facing Zayn.
“He'll know that I told you and things will get worse.” Zayn crossed his arms
across his bare chest. “I know it looks bad, but it's bearable.”
“If that's bearable, I don't even- Look, Zayn. I'll talk to Head Master Dunne.
You don't have to be Max's punching bag.”
Zayn's eyes grew panicked. “Please don't tell Head Master Dunne! He’s close to
Max’s parents and he'll probably call my dad and my dad will think I'm even
more of a pussy than he already thinks I am.”
“Your dad called you a pussy?” Liam asked. Zayn nodded his head. “You told him
that you were being bullied?” Another nod.
“He said that fagging is part of the McEllan tradition and that I should man
up.” Zayn sat on the edge of his bed, his arms still locked tight around his
ribs. “I never brought it up again.”
“What Max is doing is not fagging.” Liam sat on his own bed. “Besides, McEllan
no longer permits this sort of behaviour. He could kick you a little too hard
one day and break a bone or worse, kill you, and then what?”  Zayn shrugged
limply. Liam sighed. “Are you in pain at the moment?”
“A little,” Zayn said, arms still tightly crossed.
Liam got to his feet and pulled his toiletry bag from the wardrobe and took out
the paracetamol tablets he kept in it. “Take one now and if the pain continues,
take another.”
He retrieved a bottle of water from the mini fridge and handed it to Zayn, who
took one tablet and swallowed. Zayn picked up his jersey and pulled it on
before slipping on the earphones, and curling into the position he'd been
earlier.
 Liam watched Zayn. Max wasn’t going to get away with this. He wasn't Margaret,
who could be silenced by the threat of termination, or Head Master Dunne, who
was afraid of embattling the son of a legacy. He wasn't Zayn's father,
unconcerned about Zayn's wellbeing. Liam was going to make sure Max got
everything that was coming to him.
                                  *** *** ***
They had breakfast the next morning at 8AM and Anders announced that the sun
would rise late that day so the group would have an hour recess before leaving
the hotel at 10AM to head to the husky farm.
Liam had expected Zayn to hang out with the other students that had made no
move to leave the dining hall, so he was surprised after he had returned to
their room to see Zayn walk in. He discretely closed the husky sled design
research he had open on his laptop.
“The others were talking sports again,” Zayn said as explanation when he sat on
his bed. Liam put his laptop away.
“Get to your feet,” Liam said. “I'm going to teach you some self-defence
moves.”
“I can't fight,” Zayn grumbled, but he still got up.
“Square up your shoulders and hold your hands up like this.” Liam raised his
own fisted hands up and watched Zayn mirror the way he was standing. “I used to
get bullied at school. It got so bad that my dad was worried I'd end up dead,
so he took me to the gym one day and a mate of his taught me to box. The next
time some lads tried to mess with me, I hit them back. I still got beat, but
they soon realised I wasn't worth the effort.” Liam jabbed towards Zayn,
watching Zayn baulk and cover his middle protectively.
 “Sorry, I was checking what your natural reflexes are like.” Liam reached for
Zayn's hand, adjusting how his fingers were curled. “Make certain that your
fingers are tightly clenched and that your thumb is securely wrapped around
your second and third knuckles.”
He raised Zayn's chin with his thumb and forefinger, heat rising in his belly,
fast and hot, when Zayn stared up at him through thick lashes. Liam reluctantly
let go of Zayn’s chin.
“Okay, now hit me.”
“Huh?” Zayn asked, looking baffled like the clueless teenager he was. He really
was cute. Liam suppressed a smile.
“I hate to quote Fight Club, but I want you to hit me as hard as you can.” Liam
jogged on the spot, limbering up for impact. Zayn nodded his head and jammed
his fist into Liam's shoulders. “Ow!” Liam said.
“Ouch.” Zayn cradled his fist to his chest.
“That hurt,” Liam said, allowing the pain to run through his body, welcoming it
like a lost lover. “You might not know how to throw a punch, but the impact is
quite good for someone your size.”
“Thanks.” Zayn flexed his hand.
“I can teach you how to fight,” Liam said. “It'll take some time - it took me
months when I learned to box, but giving Max the beat down he deserves will
make it worth it. Ready?”
“Ready.” Zayn squared his shoulders and raised his fists.
 “Hit me again.”
                                  *** *** ***
They took the bus to the husky farm. The short walk from the hotel’s entrance
to inside the bus was torturous; heavy wind blowing mercilessly and Liam was
more than grateful for the vehicle’s heated seats. He sat upfront with Alice
while Patricia Belcher sat in the seat across them. Liam made sure to lean in
close to Alice and laugh a little too loud at her jokes for Patricia's benefit.
If Patricia thought he was trying to fuck Alice, she'd assume Liam’s wandering
eye was the cause for whatever deviousness she sensed in him. Patricia would
revel, thinking he was a man who cheated on his wife.
Mr and Mrs Laaksonsen greeted them at the gate, smiling and all bundled up in
heavy jackets. They escorted them through the thick snow to inside the
farmhouse. Once the group was in the warm house, Liam spoke.
 “Due to Mrs Belcher sitting out the sled ride, one lucky student will be
offered the opportunity of riding a single rider sled,” Liam said.  “Do I have
any volunteers?” Kodzo, Ford, Natalie, and Max put up their hands. Liam had
come prepared. “To be fair, we'll have to pull the lucky student’s name out of
a hat.”
 He pulled out a pen and paper from his jacket pocket and wrote the four
students names down before taking off his beanie and placing the names inside
of it, keeping Max’s on top. He reached 'blindly' and pulled out the 'winner’.
“Maximillian,” Liam read from the paper. “You get the opportunity to ride the
husky sled by yourself.”
Max smiled smugly. “The Grant-Whitfield lucky streak strikes again.” Fucking
cocksucker.
Ford gave him a friendly jostle and the students were quietened down so Mr
Laaksonen could read out the husky mushing rules to them. While Mr Laaksonen
spoke, Liam walked outside where the huskies had been hooked to their sleds,
finding the single rider sled.
 He took off his gloves, recalling the research he had done earlier. The small
screwdriver he’d borrowed from the hotel’s supply closet was retrieved from his
pocket. Next was his Swiss army knife. Equipment in hand, he began to work.
When he was done he put his gloves back on, looked around, and whistled as he
walked off.
                                  *** *** ***
The ride started out slow as the huskies were warming up. After they had gone a
mile or two, the huskies sped up. Liam watched as Max's sled wobbled
unsteadily. Max kept trying to get the sled to go faster. As they rounded a
bend, something snapped.  Max and the sled were separated from the huskies and
were thrown hard against tree, the sled landing on Max.
“Stop, everyone stop!” Alice called out. It was so cold that Liam could see her
breath forming little clouds in front of her face. She jumped out of her sled,
running towards the wreckage. “Max, are you okay?”
Liam stopped his and Zayn’s sled and they got out. He could see Max writhing in
pain, clutching his leg. “That fucking thing is faulty. It almost killed me. My
parents will sue those stupid owners for everything they’re worth. Fuck!”
“Let go of your leg, Max. I need to take a look,” Alice said gently. The other
students had climbed out of their sleds and he could hear Jan on the phone,
speaking rapidly in Finnish, probably calling for an ambulance. Liam glanced at
Zayn and found Zayn staring at him.
                                  *** *** ***
Later that night, they camped out in the winter wilderness. An ambulance had
been called to collect Max and preliminary reports said that he had broken his
right leg. He would be kept at the Lapland Central Hospital until he stabilised
enough to return home. The rest of the group continued on with the schedule,
Anders teaching them fire making. Afterwards, they cooked their own dinner over
an open fire.
Some students stayed up late that night, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famed
Northern Lights, while others had retired to their shared glass igloo homes.
Zayn had disappeared to the igloo hours ago and when Liam couldn’t keep his
eyes open anymore, he followed suit.
He left the remaining students with Patricia and went inside his and Zayn’s
glass igloo. It was surprisingly warm and he could see the starry night sky
through the thermal glass roof. Zayn was in bed, covered by a mountain of
duvets. Liam climbed into his own bed, thinking Zayn was asleep, until he heard
him call out his name.
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” Zayn said. Liam turned onto his back, his heart beating wildly in
his chest. It took a long time before he fell asleep.
                                  *** *** ***
Wednesday was snow fun day. It consisted of toboggans, ice fishing, and
beginner’s ski classes.
The Grant-Whitfields had been notified about Max’s ‘accident’ and had flown out
the night before to see their son. So instead of participating in the snow fun,
Liam was tasked with meeting them at the Hospital and talking them out of suing
the Laaksonens.  This would turn out to be an entire day’s endeavour, but
eventually Max’s parents agreed not to call their lawyers and Max’s transfer to
the UK was approved by his physician.
By the time Liam returned to the hotel, all he could do was collapse into bed
and sleep.
                                  *** *** ***
On Thursday, there was more skiing and the students were taken to a reindeer
farm. When they returned to the hotel, Patricia announced that she was sick
with the flu and went to her room.
Jan and Anders were taking the students for that evening’s activity so Liam and
Alice celebrated with a glass of champagne, giggling and making a toast.
Sometime during the evening Alice leaned in and kissed him. Liam froze and she
pulled away, apologetic words already spilling from her lips.
“It's okay,” Liam said. “It's the champagne - I know you don't mean anything by
it.” She flushed a deep pink.
“I'll get myself to bed before I make an even bigger nuisance of myself.” She
grabbed her purse, brushing her hair back behind her ears, and walked out of
the room.
On Friday, they had a snowshoe trek. Saturday was more skiing and an evening
event to close off the trip. It was uneventful - Zayn spent most of it talking
to Spencer and Liam fought off furtive looks from Alice while a red-nosed
Patricia looked on the group as if they were septic creatures that were beneath
her.
On Sunday, they flew back to England and took a coach to McEllan. Liam picked
up his car and drove home where he found a scrappy Volkswagen parked up front.
It looked so out of place next to Sophia's red Audi. He grabbed his suitcase
from the boot and carried it up the driveway. He unlocked the front door,
stepped inside the living room, and was confronted with the sight of Sophia
seated with Louis.
He dropped his suitcase on the tiled floor with a loud clank. Sophia turned
toward the sound, a smile playing on her red lips.
“The prodigal husband has returned,” she said.
“Uh oh, daddy's home,” Louis said from the top of his teacup. Liam walked into
the room cautiously.
“Hello,” Liam said.
“We're having a tea party.” Sophia gestured to the teapots, scones, muffins,
and biscuits set up on the coffee table. “Louis graciously agreed to keep me
company while you were away.” Liam walked to her and placed a kiss on her
cheek.
“I didn’t go willingly.” He stole a glance at Louis, who was watching them
keenly.
“How was Finland?” Sophia asked.
“Cold.”
“And the students? Did they misbehave?”
“I kept them in-line.”
“Good old Mr Payne,” Louis chimed in.
“I go by Smith-Payne these days.” Liam sat beside Sophia on the couch. She
curled up next to him as she nibbled on a scone.
“What was Liam like when he took you?” Sophia asked.
“Sophia, let’s not drudge-” Liam began.
“No, I don't mind.” Louis smirked. “I'd love to tell Sophia all about the time
when you took me.” Louis poured himself another cup of tea.
“Do tell, dear,” Sophia said gleefully, her left hand coming up to ruffle
Liam's hair. She could tell he was getting annoyed and his irritation pleased
her.
“He was young and dashing and all the girls had massive crushes on him,” Louis
began, placing his teacup on its saucer. “He was surprisingly strict so we all
learnt quite quickly not to fuck around when we were in his class.” Sophia
giggled, beyond delighted.
“And how did you two become mates?”
“I don't remember.” Louis eyed Liam. “How did we become mates again? I think it
was around that time you returned to temp and I came by to your class one day
and-”
“Louis was falling behind in his work and I offered to tutor him. We just got
on well.”
“Strange, isn’t it? You being friends with someone in high school when you were
in uni.” Sophia sipped her tea, her hand still twisting in Liam's hair.
“We have more in common than you would think,” Liam said. He gently pried
Sophia's hand away from his hair and she pouted for a second before
brightening.
“My love, I've got a present for you. Stay right here.” She hopped to her feet
and left the room.
Liam instantly leaned forward and said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Having high tea with your missus,” Louis said coolly.
“Don't come to my house when I'm not around,” Liam whispered. “And don't call
me- da- um- da-” He fumbled on the word.
“Daddy?” Louis provided. Liam bristled, his face burning red-hot. Louis placed
his teacup down and whispered, “But I thought you liked it when I called you
daddy. Loved it, especially when I was riding your cock like there’s no
tomorrow.”
“Louis, shut up.” Liam glanced in the direction of the staircase.
“Or what? You’ll kick me out? Explain that to Sophia.”
“I don't need-” Liam heard Sophia coming down the stairs and sat back, glaring
at Louis.
“Dr Richard said the tests came back showing that I am at peak health and we
can go ahead and keep trying for a baby,” Sophia said when she walked back into
the room. She was carrying a Tiffany green, palm-sized gift box tied with white
strings. “This is for you.”
“Thank you.” Liam took the box and pulled the white strings. “A thermometer?”
he asked when he opened the box.
“To take my temperature and track dates when I’m ovulating.” Sophia beamed and
curled up against him again. “I can't wait to have a baby.”
Liam caught Louis' eye over the top of Sophia's head and hummed noncommittally.
                                  *** *** ***
Just before midday on Monday, Liam visited Webber House. He found Margaret’s
office and knocked on the open door. Margaret looked up from her desk and
smiled.
 “Liam,” she said.  “What an unexpected surprise.”
He stepped inside, closing the door. “I have a matter to discuss with you. I
hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
“Not at all.  I'm always happy to see you.” She hurriedly cleared away a
container of half-eaten noodles. “Sorry, I was just having my lunch.”
“I want to continue that discussion we had about Maximillian.” Liam took a seat
at Margaret’s desk.
“Yes, I heard he got injured. His parents were none too pleased about that.
They’ve been giving Head Master Dunne an earful.”
“While Max is in the hospital. I’ve devised a plan to help Zayn.”
“What?”
“While we were in Finland I began giving Zayn boxing lessons. I want to
continue training him.”
“We can propose a self-defence course to be added to the physical education
curriculum.” Margaret reached for her computer keyboard. “I've suggested this
in the past but the governing board have always shot me down, with someone from
the faculty backing me, maybe this time the proposal might be successful.”
“That will take too long. Zayn needs our help right now.”
“School rules prohibits a student fro-”
“I know what the school rules say. I'm asking you to allow Zayn to leave Webber
House in the evenings to go and train with me.”
She adjusted her glasses, staring at Liam stupidly. “But House rules dictate
students can't leave the House unless they are attending school approved
activities.”
“This has to be off the book, just between you, Zayn and myself.” Liam said
with care. “This school does not have Zayn's best interest at heart like you
do, Marge. It has allowed Max to terrorise him for years. If we don’t find a
way around the rules Zayn has three more years of torment to look forward to.
Have you seen the size of Max? He's a rugby player.”
“I don't know- I'd be contravening the House rules… People have been fired for
less.” She stared at her computer screen.
“Zayn needs you to look out for him.”
 “What do you need from me?” Margaret’s chin wobbled with determination.
“Provide Zayn with a key to the back entrance where I'll pick him up for
training, Also tell Zayn’s roommate that Zayn will be with you in the evenings
when he’s training with me.” Liam said. “Can you do this for him, Marge?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, Liam.”
“Thank you.”
                                  *** *** ***
At the end of that afternoon’s lesson, Zayn lingered behind while the rest of
the class walked out. In Liam’s peripheral vision, he saw Zayn approaching his
desk.
“Just a moment,” Liam said as he finished typing a report on the MES trip for
the school governing board. Once he was done, he closed Outlook and looked up
at Zayn. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to thank you for what you did.” Zayn glanced at the door where a
few students still milled outside the class. “With Max.”
Liam looked at him blankly, “Max? I don't follow.”
“With the sled,” Zayn lowered his voice. “Sorting him out?” He looked down at
his feet. “No one's ever done anything like that for me and I wanted you to
know I appreciate it.”
 Liam watched Zayn, fascinated. This was the crux. The test if Zayn could keep
a secret. Zayn was still mumbling, talking about how sick the boxing lessons
were.
“You need to practise your form,” Liam interrupted him. “I can train you in the
evenings.”
“For real?”
“I've spoken to your House Matron, Ms. Mundy, and she's agreed to grant you
leave of absence but you have to promise not to tell anyone about our boxing
lessons.” Liam said sternly. “Ms. Mundy and I are bending school rules and we
could be fired if word got out.”
“I promise, I won't tell anyone.” Zayn said excitedly. “When are we meeting?”
“How's Thursday after prep time? Say around 9PM?”
Zayn frowned. “I need to be in my room by nine, sucks I know. House rules.”
“Ms. Mundy will cover for you.” Liam said. “Do you have a mobile?”
“Yes, but we hand over our phones and laptops to the House Master at 8:30PM.”
Zayn chewed self-consciously on his cheek.
“If I got you a cellphone, would you promise to keep it switched off during the
day and only use it to call the number I will save onto it?” Liam asked.
Zayn nodded. “Yes, I promise.”
“Come round tomorrow and I'll have it for you.” Liam returned to his laptop.
“That'll be all, Zayn.”
“Thanks, Mr Smith-Payne.” Zayn walked out of Liam's classroom.
***** Chapter 7 *****
On Thursday, Liam heard a knock. He looked up to find Zayn at his classroom
door, before glancing at his wristwatch. It was lunch time. So immersed he was
in his research for a vasectomy, Liam had lost track of time. He had a doctor
narrowed down who could perform the procedure but he hadn’t made the
appointment. He knew it would be a matter of time before Sophia began wondering
why she hadn't fallen pregnant. Then she would demand fertility testing and
Liam was certain that a simple blood test would detect that she was still on
oral contraceptives and that would lead to more questions. But that was Sophia
and she was the furthest thing in his mind when he had Zayn standing at his
doorway.
“Come in and close the door,” Liam said.
Zayn walked inside the classroom and pulled the door shut, muting the
adolescent noise coming from the hallway. They had roomed together for five
nights in Finland. Being alone in his classroom with Zayn shouldn't make Liam's
breath catch in his throat. Yet it did. Liam watched, entranced, as Zayn looped
his fingers on his backpack and walked towards Liam's desk.
“Sit down.” Liam opened his desk drawer, pulling out the boxed Nokia 3310 he
had purchased from a street trader in London. He had already saved his own
cellphone number to its phonebook and loaded airtime onto it. He handed it to
Zayn.
“This phone looks ancient,” Zayn opened the box and pulled out the phone,
inspecting it.
“It can make and receive calls,” Liam replied dryly. “It's good enough.”
“When you said you'd get me a phone, this wasn’t what came to mind.” Zayn
returned the phone back in its box.
“There’s a charger in there as well. Keep it switched off until 8:50PM, which
is the time when I will send you a text instructing where you must meet me. And
please don’t get it confiscated.” Liam said, his voice stern as he emphasised
the word. The last thing he needed was the phone to land in the wrong hands.
“I won’t. I still can’t believe you got Ms. Mundy to agree to cover for us.”
“I merely pointed out that its best for you to know how to protect yourself.”
Liam feasted his eyes on Zayn who was hunched on one of the visitor’s chairs,
chewing absently on the inside of his cheek. How could something so mundane be
so sexy? Zayn looked up and caught Liam's eye.
“What?” Zayn asked.
“Uh, nothing.” Liam dropped his eyes to his laptop. He shouldn't stare at Zayn
like that, he didn’t want Zayn to get a weirdo vibe from him. Liam busied
himself, aware that Zayn was still watching him.
“Are you preparing for your next class?” Zayn asked.
“Not right now.” Although Liam probably should be, considering he was taking
the Sixth Form group next, a problematic and tiring bunch of know-it-alls.
Zayn was quiet for a bit then he said, “Do you enjoy being a teacher?”
“I enjoy not having to work during the summers.” Not that he was looking
forward to spending three long months away from Zayn. Summer was still some
time away and when it arrived, Liam was sure by then he would have made
progress and the Nokia would come in handy for them to keep in touch when Zayn
returned home. Mr Malik’s summer blockbuster would debut and he would leave to
promote the film, taking his wife. Zayn would be left home all alone and Liam
would use the opportunity to book an expensive hotel room for Zayn and himself
and they would spend entire days in bed, Liam giving Zayn an education on all
things carnal—
“I should get going,” Zayn made no move to leave. Liam opened Google, searching
for upmarket hotels in London and found a website that ranked them.
“What do you think of these hotels?” Liam asked.
“What?” Zayn blinked, looking so boyishly baffled Liam wanted to pull him by
his school tie across the desk and kiss him.
“I can't turn my laptop, please come around.” Liam said. Zayn stood up and
walked around the table to look at the screen, his arm brushing against Liam’s
briefly, sending a frisson of electricity up Liam’s entire body.
“Um, my father likes the Ritz, he always stays there when he's in London,” Zayn
pointed to the image of The Ritz London, leaning forward to look at the screen.
Liam realised if he turned his head just a fraction to the left he could curl
his hand around Zayn’s throat, pull him down and brush their lips together.
The classroom door opened, revealing Patricia posed on the other side, watchful
eyes taking them in, her mouth pursed like she’d been chewing a lemon rind. “Mr
Smith-Payne and Mr Malik,” she said and lumbered into the classroom.
“Hello, Mrs Belcher,” Zayn said. Liam wished Zayn didn’t look so caught out
because Patricia was like a shark and she could smell fear as if it were blood.
He and Zayn hadn't been doing anything.
“I'd like to speak to Mr Smith-Payne, alone.” Patricia’s voice was as sharp as
broken glass. Zayn nodded as he moved away from Liam. He quickly shoved the
Nokia’s box into his backpack before practically running out of the class.
“Yes?” Liam said as soon as Zayn was out of sight.
“Maximilian Grant-Whitfield,” she announced.
Liam’s heart sped up. “What about him?”
“Head Master Dunne requires an incident report to be written up regarding Max’s
unfortunate accident.”
Instead of sitting at the visitors’ chair, she strode around Liam’s desk to
loom over him, her hawk eyes falling onto his laptop’s screen. The hotel
website he and Zayn had been looking at was still open. Liam wished he had
closed his browser as soon as she appeared because now it was too late to do
anything.
“Um, I’ve already spoken to Max’s parents about what happened,” Liam said. “It
took a great deal of smooth talking from my part but they were finally
convinced that no one was at fault.”
“According to the Laaksonens, all their sleds had been recently maintained.”
Patricia looked down at Liam, her steel grey eyes narrowed. “They had a
mechanic look at Max’s sled and he said that the damage he found was not in
line with normal wear and tear.”
Liam’s classroom was cool but he felt his palms getting clammy, “I don’t
follow.”
“According to the mechanic, there was evidence of the sled being tampered
with.”
Liam frowned, “That’s absurd. Who would tamper with a husky sled?”
“Who indeed?” Patricia gestured at Liam’s laptop. “The Ritz. Planning a little
getaway?”
“I was thinking about it,” Liam said.
“Have the incident report prepared by tomorrow. There’s a template in the
faculty shared drive.” Patricia strutted out of the class leaving Liam to slump
back on his chair, taking a deep breath as he willed his heart rate to lower.
                                  *** *** ***
At 8:45PM, Liam parked behind Webber House. He sent a text to Zayn. ‘The
parking lot behind the Webber House. I’m in a black Aston Martin.’ Five minutes
lapsed and he spotted Zayn jogging down the steps.
“Did anyone see you?” Liam asked as Zayn got into the car.
“No,” Zayn panted.
“We’re going to the old gymnasium.” Liam pulled the car out of the lot, taking
a left at the intersection. “It hasn’t been used since the new sports complex
opened.” Needing to fill the silence more than anything, he said, “I heard you
just celebrated a birthday.”
“Yeah.”
“Fifteen, huh? Feeling any different?” Liam glanced at Zayn.
“No,” Zayn said. The old West Acre gymnasium building came into view.
“This is it.”
Zayn peered at the building. “It looks sort of rundown.”
“The school wanted to revamp, but the governing body didn't sign off on the
budget so it halted the plans.” Liam killed the engine and climbed out to
retrieve his gym bag from the boot. When he came around to the passenger side,
Zayn was already out the car, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of the
grey hoodie he wore. “Let's get going.”
Liam led the way to the building’s back entrance and he unlocked the door. The
ground floor housed the main hall. Adjacent to it was a smaller hall for
gymnastics and badminton along with a lecture room and a large indoor
basketball court. He held the door open for Zayn and tried to find the light
switch before thinking better of it - he didn’t want a passer-byer to wonder
why the lights were on in the old school gymnasium.
“Let's go this way,” Liam said. According to the building’s blue prints, there
was a gym on the second floor.
“Why’d the school stop using this gym?” Zayn asked.
“They built the O’Brien Sports Centre, which has two indoor pools, a sauna, a
steam room, a fitness centre, a climbing wall, five squash courts, a table
tennis room, and three sports halls. It sort of made this place look outdated.”
Liam walked fast, Zayn close behind him, their twin footsteps echoing in the
empty hall. They took two flights up to the second floor and entered the
gymnasium. Liam located the lights and switched them on. The windows weren’t
facing main campus and the lights wouldn’t be spotted by errant eyes. The gym
wasn't much to look at; a few free weights were scattered about with a
collection of old treadmills and other gym equipment pushed up against the
wall. The place smelled stale and everything was covered in dust.
“I'm going to change,” Liam said. “Start warming up in the meantime.”
Liam walked to the locker room, opened a locker, and once he confirmed it
wasn’t lined in cobwebs, he placed his gym bag inside it. Liam changed into a
pair of joggers, an Arsenal T-Shirt, and Adidas trainers before exiting the
room to the main gym where he found Zayn doing a hamstring stretch.
Liam approached Zayn, “Get to your feet.”
Zayn stood up.
“Boxing is as much about avoiding punches as landing them. Today I’m going to
teach you how to block punches. Come at me.”
Zayn pounced at Liam, who ducked and aimed a light punch at Zayn's middle.
“You left yourself open to my attack. Always keep your non-punching hand up to
guard your face with your elbow tucked comfortably into your waistline to ward
off any punches your opponent might throw to your head and body,” Liam said.
Zayn nodded, jogging on the spot. “Ready to go again?”
“Yes.”
Zayn charged at Liam, throwing his right fist at Liam's face. Liam caught
Zayn's fist and twisted Zayn around, flipping him to the floor.
“Again?” Liam asked.
Zayn scrambled to his feet. “Yes.”
Zayn raised his fists before launching an elbow jab at Liam who saw it coming
and ducked just as Zayn threw an undercut at him, hard knuckles coming to meet
Liam's nose. Liam staggered backwards, raising his hands in a T sign,
signalling a timeout.
“You got me on the nose.” Liam raised a hand to dab at his nose. He pressed his
nostrils down and breathed through his mouth.
“Sorry, I didn't expect to actually make any contact.” Zayn stepped closer,
trying to get a look. “Is it broken?”
“No, just sore.” Liam smiled. “You're improving, I'm impressed. You should be
proud of yourself.”
Zayn looked down at his trainers. “I still wouldn't be able to take Max. He's
built.”
“Don't worry about Max right now.” Liam removed his hand and checked it - no
blood. “He'll be out of commission for a good couple of weeks. You'll use this
time to work on your boxing skills.” Liam raised his fists, squaring his
shoulders. “Let's go another round.”
                                  *** *** ***
Every Thursday, Liam parked his car behind Webber House, lights turned off,
waiting for Zayn to appear on the top of the steps before they drove to the
gym, and every Thursday Liam experienced sweet torture as he taught Zayn to
box. Being able to look at Zayn dressed in running shorts and a thin vest, his
arms and shoulders exposed, and the shape of his calves, the curve of his
spine, the feel of his skin and the smell of him - Axe deodorant and fresh
sweat.
Over the next three weeks he learned that Zayn was lonely. It wasn't evident at
first because Zayn had friends at McEllan and there was that girl Spencer, the
one Zayn often hung out with at school, but she and Zayn were not romantically
involved. Zayn's loneliness was a living thing, a constant companion that
followed him. The more time Liam spent with him, the more that companion made
itself known.
One day after they had completed sparring and were lounging on their backs in
the main hall, staring up at the ceiling, Liam asked Zayn about the time he
first arrived at McEllan Academy, just eight years of age.
“I’d cry every night because I missed my mum so much,” Zayn said. “They used to
give us phone cards to ring home and I'd promised mum I wouldn't call her
unless it was an emergency. She said if she heard me sound sad it would make
her sad, so I tried not to ring her. But on the third night I couldn't hold off
anymore and I asked the House Master for my phone card.” Zayn chuckled
humourlessly.
“I was so short I couldn't reached the communal phone - I had to stand on a
chair. When I dialled our house number the phone rang and rang. My mum never
picked up. The next night I tried again and she still didn't pick up.” Zayn
went silent. “One day I was going passed the House Master’s office and I heard
him mention my name. Zayn needs to hear from you,he was saying. I couldn't hear
what my mum said in reply and he said, I can’t refuse if he asks for a phone
card. Then he said that he would talk to me about the frequent phone calls and
hung up. I stopped trying to call her after that.”
“What’s your relationship with her like now?” Liam rolled onto his side and
watched Zayn, who was still on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
“We talk sometimes. She tells me about her life and I tell her about school.”
Zayn shrugged. “I’ve just learned not to miss her.”
“You were a child away from home. You were allowed to miss your family.”
“The other boys didn't.”
“The other boys were lying.”
“I used to think that there was something wrong with me. Everyone else loves it
here. My parents pay a fortune for me to attend McEllan and I’m told how this
school is exclusive and how it’s a privilege to be here. But all I ever wanted
was to go home. I felt bad for hating it.” Zayn's voice cracked.
Liam didn't say anything and let Zayn gather his composure. They laid on the
basketball court floor, watching the aged ceiling with its peeling, splintered
paint and water damage. Eventually Zayn said he needed to leave. They got to
their feet and Liam dropped Zayn off at Webber House.
The next time he saw Zayn was in class. Zayn flushed, looking everywhere except
at him. After the lesson, Zayn took his time packing his books away. Once the
last student had left the class, he slowly approached Liam's desk.
“Last night, I didn't mean to get emotional.”
“Our sessions don’t need to be exclusively about boxing. I'm here for you,
Zayn. You can tell me anything.”
“Thanks, Mr Smith-Payne.”
One day Zayn will learn to call him Liam.
                                  *** *** ***
They were in the gymnasium having completed a sparring round when Zayn brought
up the McEllan’s Valentine Formal, a dance that was held on the second Saturday
of the February month.
“The dance is in two weeks’ time and I don't have a date,” Zayn sat down on the
bench press and started scraping off its silver paint.
“You could take one of your mates.” Liam finished tying his trainers and
reached for his gym bag, ready to leave. He had told Sophia that he went to the
gym on Thursdays, but he wasn’t sure if she believed him or not.
“They all already have dates.”
“Even Spencer?” Liam asked. He knew she and Zayn were close, often whispering
to each other during class.
“She's got a boyfriend. Anyway, if I asked, she'd think I fancied her, which I
don't.”
“There's still time to ask someone else.”
“Beside Spencer, I don't really talk to the other girls. I'm kind of shy when
it comes to things like that. I haven't even-” He peeled off a piece of paint
and threw it on the floor. “I haven't done it yet. It makes me feel like a
freak or prude because all the other lads have.” Zayn shrugged.
“You know that most of them are lying, right?”
“They're not. They had pictures of them and the girls they had done it with.”'
Zayn brushed away the flecks of paint to the floor. “I haven’t even kissed a
girl.”
“Neither had I at fifteen.” Liam may have not kissed a girl, but he certainly
had been doing much more forward things with Niall. “I wasn’t exactly a looker.
I was awkward, too tall for my age and my voice was breaking so I sounded like
I wanted to cry when I spoke. It was horrible.” That roused a smile from Zayn
and he looked up at Liam.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You want pictures? I happen to have photographic evidence.” Liam reached for
his bag and pulled out his phone. He'd saved some of his pictures to show Zayn.
“Who's that?” Zayn asked, looking at Liam’s screensaver.
“My wife.” Liam swiped the lock screen and typed his passcode.
“Oh.”
“Prepare yourself.” Liam clicked on the photos app shortcut and scrolled until
he found his 'teen Liam' album before handing his phone to Zayn.
“This is you?” Zayn asked, looking at a picture of Liam running cross country.
He was about eleven or twelve in the picture with a round, chubby face and
cropped hair. “What's going on with your hair?”
“Made me run faster. Aerodynamics, something or other.”
“Wow.” Zayn scrolled to the next picture. “It’s you, but it’s not you at the
same time. Weird.” Liam watched Zayn’s face as he went through the photo album,
delight apparent in his face. “And this?” Zayn held up a picture of Liam
smiling like a weirdo, sticking his tongue out while he crossed his eyes.
“I was eight and being silly.”
“Eight, huh?” Zayn looked at more photos before he handed the phone back to
Liam. “You think we would’ve been friends if we knew each other at that age?”
“Yes, I think so,” Liam said. “We're friends now.”
Zayn shook his head. “Not really. You're training me because you're worried Max
will permanently bugger me up next time he beats me.”
“That's not the reason,” Liam said softly. “I like hanging out with you.”
“You’re my teacher.”
“And you're my student. Mybest student.” That pulled a shy smile from Zayn.
“And when we're training here, outside of class away from other people, we can
just be Zayn and Liam - friends. Not Zayn and Liam, student and teacher. Can we
do that?”
“I think so.”
“So, Zayn. How do you plan on getting a date for the formal?” Liam asked.
Zayn shrugged. “You're the one with the experience, you tell me.”
“Ask one of the Year 9s; Lily. She'd say yes to going to the dance with you.”
“How do you know?”
“As you pointed out, I'm experienced at things like that. Oh, and contrary to
popular belief, I’m not yet half deaf like the other geezers and I may have
overheard her tell her friend she'd “marry” you when they played a game of
‘fuck, marry or kill’.” Liam watched Zayn flush. “What?”
“I've never heard a teacher swear before,” Zayn said.
“Well, outside of class I've been known to drop a dirty word or two.”
“And who did they pick to fuck and kill?”
Liam thought for a second. “They said they'd fuck me and kill Ford.”
Zayn sniggered. “Yeah, right.”
“Why’re you laughing? I'm plenty fuckable.”
“According to who? Your wife?”
“For matter of fact, yes,” Liam said. “Who would you pick?” When Zayn frowned,
he added quickly, “Out of the many attractive ladies at the school?”
“I would kill...” Zayn propped his chin on his hand, thinking. “Mrs Belcher,
definitely Mrs Belcher. You should have been there when she taught human
biology - made it sound like if we had sex we'd end up like the alien in
Species 2 with monster alien babies jutting out of our guts.” He shuddered. “So
disgusting.”
“And marry?”
“I would marry Ms. Shapiro,” Zayn said without any hesitation. “She bakes. Like
a lot. And she's really good at it. I’d marry her for the scones alone.”
“And who would you fuck?” Liam held Zayn's gaze, watching as Zayn's Adam apple
bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously.
“I would fuck...” Zayn’s face was flushed red and he looked away from Liam,
returning to scrape at the bent’s peeling paint. “Natalie, I guess. All the
boys say she's super fit.”
Natalie was the resident hot girl at McEllan, but Liam didn't see what the big
deal was with her. She was a plain blonde who happened to possess large
breasts. Nothing to write home about.
“You guess?”
Zayn shrugged. “There's no one I fancy at school.”
If Liam pushed now, he could assess how fluid Zayn's sexuality was. This could
help him find out if he was wasting his time. Not that spending his Thursday
nights with Zayn was a hardship. It was possibly the best part of his week, but
looking and wanting grew old. Most mornings, Liam woke up hard with a half-
formed dream of Zayn floating in his mind. He needed to feel Zayn's skin naked
against his own and he wanted to swallow down every moan Zayn would make when
they kissed. Even thinking about it, what sex between them could be like, Liam
felt his cock stir in his trousers.
“Who's the celebrity you fancy the most?” Liam asked. “Like an actress.”
Zayn shifted on the bench. “Uh, I saw that Transformers film the other day and
the actress in it is pretty.”
“Megan Fox?” Predictable.
Zayn shook his head, “The other actress. Blonde. English.”
“Rosie Huntington-Whiteley?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you think when you saw her?”
“That she was fit. Nice hair, lips, legs.” None of this was helpful to Liam.
“Yeah, I see it,” Liam said.
“Who do you like?”
“My wife.” Liam raised his left hand, pointing at his wedding band. “Married,
remember?”
“But that doesn't stop you from looking at other people.”
“No, it certainly doesn't.” Liam glanced at Zayn, swiping his tongue quickly
over his lower lip.
“I heard that you and Ms. Meyer hooked up when we were in Finland,” Zayn said.
“That's just a stupid rumour. She and I are mates. Nothing more.” Liam was
certain, Patricia was the one who had started the rumour. Which meant his plan
to make her believe that something was going on between him and Alice, had
worked.
“That’s not what people are saying.”
“People have too much time on their hands.” Liam got to his feet. “Take my
advice. Ask Lily to the dance.”
                                  *** *** ***
The following Thursday, Zayn announced that Lily had accepted his invitation to
the dance. He was giddy - his eyes were sparkling and it was obvious that he
was proud of himself.
“Didn't I tell you she would say yes?” Liam said, throwing a playful jab at
Zayn's right shoulder.
“It was still pretty scary approaching her,” Zayn said. “She was with all her
mates when I asked. I felt like there was a gigantic spotlight on me and I was
going to crash and fail pathetically in front of them.”
“But you didn't.”
“Must be the mixed martial arts swag from all this training.” Zayn ducked from
the punch Liam threw at him.
“Must be.” Liam sent a light roundhouse kick to Zayn’s left side.
“Ow.” Zayn staggered back. “You're not fighting fair. You know I'm distracted.”
“Get your mind off Lily and the dance and back into the game. Max has been
discharged from the hospital and will be back in no time.”
“I heard he’s on crutches. He won't be in any condition to knock me around.”
“Crutches aren't forever.” Liam ducked a punch Zayn threw at him, jogging
lightly on his feet. “Expect him to be Mad Max when he's fully recovered and
have no guesses on who he will choose to vent on.” He pointed at Zayn. “You,
head back in the game.”
Zayn nodded. “Okay, okay.”
He tried to kick Liam in the side, but Liam successfully thwarted the attack.
They continued with the martial arts training, Zayn showing off the defensive
moves he had learned in the last couple of weeks.
Liam had prescribed some weight training for him and he could see some of the
benefits starting to show. Zayn's arms and shoulders were more muscular. His
frame was still thin, but there was a quiet strength behind it. Liam wanted to
press his fingers into Zayn's biceps and bite the tendons on his neck. Liam
shook his head. This wasn't the time for it, daydreaming about Zayn.
“Losing focus, huh?” Zayn threw a left jab, right punch and side kick. “Am I
too quick for you?”
“Hardly.” Liam caught Zayn's foot, causing him to lose balance and tumble to
the floor.
“Not fair,” Zayn grumbled.
“You think Mad Max will fight fair when he has you cornered?” Zayn shook his
head. “Now get to your feet and come at me again.”
                                  *** *** ***
Liam didn’t know when it became a thing for them, but after every boxing
lesson, he and Zayn would hang out in the gym, Liam sipping the post-workout
recovery drink that he had brought with him while Zayn talked about things that
were on his mind.
“My parents have been married for almost twenty years,” Zayn said from beside
Liam, his head resting on a pillow made from his hoodie and gym bag.
“That's a long time,” Liam replied.
“I guess.” Zayn absently drummed his fingers on his knee. “They say that once
all of this high school crap ends, everything will come together and you're
supposed to be happy.”
“It's not that easy.”
“I figured. Most grown-ups seem unhappy, always complaining - tax, traffic,
inflation, or something.”
“Being grown-up means taking on a lot of responsibilities.” Liam finished the
last of his recovery drink.
Zayn sat up to look up at Liam. “Do I seem spoiled to you?”
“You’ve had more opportunities than most people, but it has come at a price,”
Liam answered honestly. “Being wealthy doesn't give you any pleasure or sense
of superiority like it does to some of your classmates. I wouldn’t describe you
as spoiled.” And Liam had been around individuals of the spoilt rotten variety.
“I just feel spoiled sometimes, complaining about going on vacation with my dad
and him spending the entire trip on the phone. There are bigger problems in the
world—”
“Your problems aren't trivial. Your feelings are as valid as the next
person’s.”
“My dad is always busy; so many things need his attention. Sometimes I feel
like- I don't know- like a cry baby, because I want to be important.”
“Zayn, you are important.”
“Just not as important as the Board of Directors is to him.” Zayn rubbed at his
eyes. It took all of Liam’s willpower not to wrap his arms around Zayn and
comfort him. He couldn’t, not yet. There were the three rules.
“Do you want to know a secret?” Liam asked. Zayn nodded. “Remember when I told
you that I hadn't kissed a girl when I was your age?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn't entirely true.”
“What do you mean?” Zayn's head was cocked to the side.
“When I was your age I became friends with my neighbour's son. He was visiting
for the summer and we would hang out and one day...” Liam glanced at Zayn who
was hanging onto his every word.
“One day what?” Zayn asked.
“We started fooling around.”
“You snogged him?”
“We did more than snog,” Liam said.
“Like sex stuff?”
Liam closed the bottle of his recovery drink. “I shouldn't be telling you this.
It isn't appropriate.”
“You're married. To a woman, I saw her picture on your phone,” Zayn looked
confused.
“That's true.”
“I just would never have imagined that you would ever have, um, done stuff with
a guy.”
“We were young and bored and exploring each other’s bodies seemed liked a good
a way as any to pass the time.” Liam said.
“Do you still-,” Zayn flushed.
“What?”
“Never mind, I shouldn't ask,” Zayn said. Liam didn’t press further, opting to
glance at his watch, noting that it was nearly 11PM. Time always seemed to fly
when he was with Zayn. He had to go home before it got too late as he couldn’t
afford Sophia asking too many questions about his so-called gym attendance.
“We need to get going. Are you ready to head back?” Liam asked.
“Yeah,” Zayn said.
They gathered their bags and walked out of the gym.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Please note that there is mention of past sexualised bullying in this
     chapter.
For the most part, Zayn was good at following the rules.
 He called Liam 'sir' and 'Mr Smith-Payne' in class, with no hint of sarcasm.
He did his work like the rest of his classmates and he never asked Liam once
for extra marks or special treatment, which made Liam like him more. So it came
as a surprise late one night when Zayn texted him.
 Liam and Sophia were lounging by the pool. It was Tuesday, a non-sparring day,
and also a day where he didn’t have Zayn's class. Zayn had never texted him
before, not once, and a quick check of the Nokia’s records one weekend had
shown Zayn never used the phone to contact anyone else. Because Zayn followed
the rules.
Liam reached in his jean pocket, pulling out his cellphone and discretely
opened the text.
“Hey,” the first text read, followed by, “can i ask u 4 a favour?”
Liam glanced at Sophia, who was paging through a fashion magazine. She would be
suspicious if he got up and went inside the house to use his phone. He was
better off replying to Zayn's texts right here, beside her.  He typed, “What
favour?”
“I dont have anything nice 2 wear 2 da dance,” Zayn texted. “could u take me
somewhere so i could buy a new jacket?”
“Can't be seen with you,” Liam replied. “And u can't leave school grounds
without your House Master's approval.”
“On wednesday afternoon we're going 2 the garden's thearthe to see othello i
can sneak out & go shoppnig with u”
“What if I have a class?” Liam didn't have a class on a Wednesday afternoon,
but he didn't want to be seen in public with Zayn, so close to the school where
they could bump into anyone. How would he explain parading around a shopping
centre with a student during school hours?
“u don't,  i checked ur schedule” came the quick reply. “pls??”
“OK,” Liam typed back.  Zayn responded by texting a smiley face. Liam pocketed
his phone and draped an arm over Sophia.
                                  *** *** ***
The plan was that Zayn would sit at the back of the theatre and sneak out
during the first act. Liam parked outside the Garden’s Theatre, starting the
engine when he spotted Zayn exiting the building.
“Did anyone see you?” Liam asked when Zayn got inside the car.
Zayn shook his head. “No, they were focused on the play.”
“How much time do you have?”
“About an hour and a half.”
“We better get onto this then.” Liam drove onto the main road. “Do you have a
store in mind?”
“No. I need a new jacket.” Zayn pulled his seat back and put his feet up on the
dashboard. “Maybe a new shirt as well.”
“Get your feet down from there,” Liam ordered.
“Sorry.” Zayn dropped his feet.
“We'll start at Draper Co and see what they have.”
“Okay, whatever you say. You're the grown-up.”
“Don't be lippy.”
Zayn laughed. “I'm just stating the facts. How am I being lippy?”
“Snarky then.”
“Whatever.”
Liam glanced at Zayn. “And don't roll your eyes at me.”
“We're not at school, so those rules don't apply, Liam.”
Liam’s heart skipped a beat when he heard his name. Zayn had taken the next
step all on his own. Liam bit back a smile. “Is that so?”
“Hmmm.”
“And if some helpful shopping assistant wants to know who you are to me, what
do I say?” Liam asked. Zayn perched his chin on his hand.
“You're my older brother?” Zayn suggested.
“I don't think we can pass for brothers.”
Zayn studied Liam’s face. “Yeah, I’m far more handsome.”
“That's what you think.”
“Maybe you're my cousin?”
Liam laughed. “You really intend to keep it in the family. How about an older
mate?”
“That could work.”
Liam pulled into the Blue Ridge Mall parkade and parked the car. He and Zayn
disembarked and headed inside the mall. A glance at his watch told him that
they had already used fifteen minutes of the time they had. He gave Zayn a
friendly push.
“Pick up the pace. We don't have a lot of time,” Liam said, walking faster
towards the mall's entrance.
“This is me taking it easy. If I went full Malik, you wouldn't be able to keep
up, old man.” Zayn said. Liam lost his footing, stumbling on the curb, an image
of Louis flashing before his eyes. Zayn stopped a few paces ahead, concern
etched on his brows.
Liam brushed past him. “Let’s find you a suit.”
                                  *** *** ***
Finding a good suit for Zayn was easier said than done. At 5ft5, Zayn was too
big for the boys’ jackets on sale, but too small for the men’s jackets. The
helpful shop assistant suggested that he have one tailored at Men’s Warehouse,
but when they asked him how long that would take, he said a couple of weeks,
which would be too late for the dance. Dejected, Zayn exited the shop.
“I should have started looking for a suit earlier.” He sat on a bench outside
the department store. Liam sat down beside him.
“You didn't know you would be attending the dance until last week, so ease up,”
Liam said. “Maybe wear your old jacket from last year’s formal.”
“It doesn't fit anymore.” Zayn crossed his arms over his chest.
“Maybe Margaret can let out the -”
“It doesn't fit. Why won't you listen to me?” Zayn spat out. He got to his feet
and marched away. Liam followed after him.
“Zayn!” Liam called. Zayn only quickened his pace. Liam jogged after him,
grabbing Zayn's left arm and leading him to the mall's bathroom. He pushed him
into the disabled bathroom and locked the door after them. “Tell me what's
going on.”
Zayn wouldn’t look at Liam. “The last time I wore my old suit was a year back
and Max-”
Liam frowned, “Max did what?”
“He cornered me in the lav and he made me-” Zayn turned around and gripped the
wash basin.
“You can tell me anything, Zayn.” Liam's hands curled into a fist as he
imagined all the hurt he wanted to unleash on that walking pile of excrement
known as Maximillian Grant-Whitfield.
“He made me jerk him off,” Zayn said quietly. “He came all over my jacket and
laughed, saying that next time it would be my face. Afterwards, I left the
dance and went back to my room. I took off the jacket and threw it away.”
Liam reached out a hand, but then thought better of it.
“He said it was normal, that all the lads did it. Fagging, that is.”
“Zayn.” Liam watched Zayn’s face in the mirror. Zayn had his eyes tightly shut,
his hands white-knuckled on the basin.
Zayn stilled, taking a deep breath before he opened his eyes. He managed a
deadpan expression and met Liam’s eyes in the mirror. “I need a new jacket.”
“Let's keep looking - we haven't been to London Men yet,” Liam was surprised at
how even his voice sounded. Zayn gave him a curt nod then he brushed past Liam
and unlocked the door.
                                  *** *** ***
The suit was black, slightly loose on Zayn’s shoulders, and the arms just a
little too long, but nothing too noticeable. It looked good on him. They had
found it being sold at a small boutique. Liam insisted on paying and after a
brief protest, Zayn let him.
They drove to the theatre in silence. Liam pulled up in the parking lot and
glanced at Zayn seated beside him. The suit was in the boot and Liam would
deliver it to Margaret tomorrow, who would then hand it over to Zayn.
“Thanks.” Zayn said.
“I did have the period free.” Liam watched Zayn's fingers as they twitched on
his lap. “I don't think I'll see you before Saturday, so enjoy the dance.”
Zayn smiled humourlessly. “I’ll try to.” He reached for the door and paused,
turning to glance at Liam. “Aren’t you one of the teachers chaperoning?”
Liam shook his head. “No, I have other plans.”
“What?”
“It's Sophia's birthday.”
“Oh. What did you get her?”
“Her favourite perfume. She thought it had been discontinued by Estee Lauder,
but turns out there are still a few bottles floating around.” A McEllan school
bus pulled into the pickup spot. Zayn watched it with disinterest.
“I guess I’ve got to go.” Zayn opened the door and mumbled goodbye.
Liam watched him jog towards the theatre building until he disappeared inside.
He felt the mask he had been wearing for the past twenty minutes or so fall
from his face as he recalled the words that Zayn had spoken. If he had known
what he knew now, Max would have done more than take a tumble in a sled. What
made him think that he could touch Zayn like that? Just the idea of it made the
veins in Liam's head pulse. If that little worm wasn't in the hospital already,
Liam didn’t know what he would do to him.
Liam revved up the engine as his hands curled around the steering wheel, the
tires screeching on the bend as he stomped down on the accelerator. He was on
the main road that led to McEllan, when suddenly he couldn't bear the idea of
spending the last remaining hours of the school day alone. He swerved the car
and made a reckless U-turn, heading to the city.
                                  *** *** ***
“Every time I wind up back at your door,” Louis sing-songed when he opened his
door to find Liam. He was dressed in torn jeans and a black T-shirt with a
dancing skeleton. A lit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. Liam
reached for it and took a puff.
“I thought you quit,” Louis said as he watched Liam exhale.
Liam stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Louis walked into the flat, where he picked a pile of clothes from the
sofa and placed them on the coffee table. Liam followed after him and sat on
the sofa, shutting his eyes. “I thought you weren't s'pose to see me without
expressed approval from the missus.” Louis sat down beside him.
“This couldn't wait.”
“Of course not.”
Liam sighed and opened his eyes. “If I'm imposing on you in any way, I can
leave.”
“Too late for that now, innit?” Louis tilted his head back as he smoked. “No
use closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.”
“Meaning?”
“You can't undo what’s been done-”
“I know what the idiom means, but for this particular situation, what are you
referring to?”
Louis stared at Liam, his eyes cool and assessing. “It can mean whatever you
want it to mean.”
“You can never be straightforward, can you?” Liam placed his feet on the coffee
table, kicking aside the dirty clothes piled up on it.
“I learnt from the best.”
“I never made you any promises,” Liam said.
“And somehow you managed to break something all of the same.” Louis reached for
an ashtray on the floor and tapped the ash from his cigarette onto it. “Guess
who I was kicking it back with last weekend?”
Liam gave him a tired shrug. “Who?”
“Harry.” Louis smiled when he saw Liam stiffen. “It was his birthday. He turned
20.”
“Oh.”  Liam tried to imagine Harry at twenty and the image didn’t sit quite
right. Harry’s smile, sweet and dimpled, with a headful of curls didn’t fit a
twenty-year old. Of course he would look different. Liam certainly didn’t keep
his hair the way he had when he was thirteen, so why would Harry?
“I've got some pictures on my mobile if you-” Louis reached for his jean
pocket.
“No need.” Liam placed his hand over Louis'.
“You're not curious what he looks like now?”
“No.” Liam let go of Louis’ hand.
“Are you sure?”
“Louis-” Liam said sternly.
“You’ve got that teacher tone down to the T.” He lit up another cigarette. “I
bet your students justlove you.”
“I shouldn’t have come here.” Liam reached for Louis’ cigarette and took one
long drag.
“Why did you?”
Liam exhaled. “I didn’t feel like going home.”
“Avoiding the old ball and chain, are we?” Louis raised his brow. “Did Sophia
finally realise who she married?”
Liam shook his head, even as he felt the chill that ran through him whenever he
imagined Sophia finding out about him. It was always the same weighted dread,
tugging at the contents of his stomach, running through his entire body,
turning the blood in his veins into ice.
“Don’t even joke about it,” Liam said. “I just needed time away from it all.”
Sophia. McEllan. Zayn and the sexual allure he hurled at Liam just by
breathing. The psychotic urge to pummel his fists into Maximillian over and
over until all that was left of the boy was a pulpy mess.
Liam rolled off the sofa onto his knees and reached for Louis’ belt buckle with
one hand, placing the cigarette on the ashtray with the other hand. “I’m going
to suck you off.”
Louis nodded, his forehead crinkling in confusion. Liam nudged Louis’ knees
further apart until he could fit in between them. He unzipped Louis’ zipper and
groped Louis’ underwear-clad cock before he pulled down the briefs in one swift
movement. Louis was semi-hard, velvety and blood warm in Liam’s hand.
Liam leaned down and licked a quick stripe up Louis’ cock. The taste of him was
familiar and foreign at the same time. Liam sucked Louis’ dick into his mouth,
using his hands to stroke Louis into full hardness. When he pulled back, a
translucent strand of saliva linked from his mouth to Louis’ cock. He jerked
Louis off while he gathered his breath - he hadn’t given head in while.  
He looked up at Louis, who had his eyes tightly shut, lips parted. Liam took
Louis into his mouth again, sucking while his hands squeezed and stroked the
base of Louis’ cock. He sucked on Louis until his jaw started to ache.
“I’m gonna come,” Louis moaned. Liam pulled away and stroked Louis through his
orgasm until Liam’s hands were covered in come. Once Louis’ shivering subsided,
Liam pulled his hands from Louis’ dick and reached for a T-shirt from the pile
of clothes on the floor, which he used to wipe his hands before he sat back up
on the couch beside Louis. He reached for the cigarette and took a drag of it.
“What was that for?” Louis asked, tucking his softening dick back in his
briefs.
Liam handed Louis the cigarette and winked at him. He got to his feet and
walked to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge to inspect its contents. Liam
grabbed two bottles of beer. He closed the fridge and opened the bottles,
returning to sit beside Louis on the sofa. He handed Louis one beer.
“I haven't stayed away from that student I told you about,” Liam said with no
preamble. He took a swig of the cold beer, washing away the taste of Louis from
his mouth.
“I didn't think you would.” Louis zipped up his jeans and did up the buckle. He
gave Liam a long sideways glance before he sipped his beer. “It's a compulsion
with you.”
 “An upperclassman is bullying him so I've been training him to fight.”
“How sweet and considerate of you.” Louis' voice was laced with sarcasm. He
drank down his beer before placing the empty bottle on the floor. “I'm your
substitute for this boy.”
“It's not like that.”
Louis shook his head. “I've reconciled myself to always playing second fiddle
for someone else when it comes to you. First Harry, then Sophia, now this new
lad.”  Louis got to his knees, spreading Liam's thighs apart.
“What are you doing?”
“Paying you back for the blowjob.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything in return.” Liam eased Louis' hands off his knees
and shifted away from him. Louis sat back on his heels.
“If that's how you want to play it.” Louis rose to his feet and walked behind
the couch. “I'm getting another beer. You want one?”
“I still have to drive home.” And he also had to face Sophia and explain why he
had met with Louis without telling her first. “I think I'll be off now.” He
stood and walked to the kitchen where Louis stood beside the fridge. “Thanks.”
“Send Sophia my regards,” Louis said.
Liam headed towards the door. “Don't count on it.”  
In the lift, a quick glance at his phone revealed there were a few missed calls
from Sophia. She would be angry at his late arrival at home and blame Louis.
She always had thought it was odd that he and Louis were mates, but she had
never voiced her concerns over their friendship. If she did today, Liam
couldn’t bring himself to care.
                                  *** *** ***
The dance went well, the fundraising was a success, and according to the school
newsletter sent out that morning, the school had raised over ten thousand
pounds for charity. Liam read through articles covering the dance, hoping to
obtain a glimpse of Zayn in his suit.
As he went through the other emails, an announcement of renovations to the old
gymnasium caught his eye. This wasn’t good. Liam decided to wait until the next
evening to share the news with Zayn.
“The school is converting this building into a science lab.” Zayn was shadow
boxing and he paused to glance over at Liam.
“What?”
“I read it in the faculty newsletter. The plans to revamp this building have
been approved. Construction commences next week.”
“So soon.”
“The head master believes ‘the travesty of this building has gone on long
enough’.” Liam laced up his trainers. “He wants the new science building to be
ready for the next school year.”
Zayn's eyebrows were scrunched. “But where does that- where will we meet now?”
Liam went to him and placed a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “I'll think of
something. Don't worry about this today. I just wanted you to know that this
might be the last of our sessions for a while.”
“You said it yourself - I need to be better to be able to take on Max.”
“I checked up on him. He's in physiotherapy. From what I hear, he won't be
returning to McEllan for a while.” Liam squeezed Zayn's shoulder. “Don't stress
out thinking about him, okay?” Zayn gave him a curt nod. Liam reluctantly
removed his hand from Zayn's shoulders. “Let's warm up.”
Zayn stepped back and continued his shadow boxing. Once Liam was certain that
he was adequately warmed up, he started a first round of mixed martial arts.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam looked around the gym. This would be the last time that he and Zayn would
be in this building. When he had offered to teach Zayn to box, he thought by
this stage their relationship would be sexual, would have bet on it. He never
imagined eight weeks down the road he'd still be wondering what Zayn’s lips
would feel like against his own. He heard a rattle of the old gym lockers and
Zayn appeared, having changed into his normal street clothes.
“Today is the last time we'll be training here.” Zayn said it as if it was
dawning on him as the words left his mouth.
“Yeah, seems like it,” Liam said.
“They're tearing the building down?”
“Partially,” Liam replied. Zayn dug around in his bag before pulling out a
spray paint aerosol can. Liam raised an eyebrow. “That's contraband on school
premises.”
Zayn shrugged. “It's for an art project. I wasn't planning on graffiti-ing up
the school.” He shook the can before grinning at Liam. “Until now, that is.”
 Liam looked around the dilapidated gymnasium. It was going to get torn down in
a week anyway, but he didn’t want to alert the faculty members that students
had been accessing the building. That would raise all types of questions - like
how they got into the building and why the House Masters weren't aware that
they were leaving their rooms.
Liam’s ambivalence must have been written on his face because Zayn said,
“Please?” There might have even been a bit of a pout and Liam may have not made
any passes to Zayn, but he was still flesh and blood, and that really did it
for him.
“Okay, go wild.” Liam watched Zayn walk to the nearest wall where he shook his
spray-paint can and started painting.
“What are you drawing?” Liam called out.
Zayn threw a smile at him before turning back to his graffiti-handiwork.
“You'll see.” Spray. Shake. Spray. After a few moments Zayn said, “All done.”
He stepped aside and presented Liam with a spray painted image of-
“Head Master Dunne?” Liam asked.
“No, it's you,” Zayn said it like it was pretty obvious. Liam walked closer to
the painting. A tweed jacket, lopsided eyes, a protruding chin, and a humungous
nose.
“That's what I look like to you?” Liam asked. He reached for the spray paint.
“I'll do one of you.” He shook the bottle. “Turn around.”
Zayn turned around immediately. Liam really liked it when he responded so well
to direct orders. It made him wonder what else he could command from Zayn. He
shook the can of spray paint and quickly drew Zayn. Legs, arms, a face.
Once he was done Liam said, “Okay, all done.”
Zayn turned and burst out laughing. “What?”
“There are your arms and that's your school uniform.”
“It looks like a pre-schooler drew this.” Zayn shook his head. “It's so bad.”
“There's a reason why I'm not an art teacher.” Liam inspected his 'portrait'.
“And you're not exactly Picasso.”
“It's a caricature piece, it's not supposed to be 100% true to life form.” Zayn
took the spray paint from Liam and started a new drawing.
“I'd hope not because my nose isn't that big.”
“Hmm,” Zayn responded.
“Don't be cheeky with me. I still need to mark your essay. You wouldn't want me
to slip and give you a D when in fact you got a B.”
“You wouldn't do that.” Zayn paused his spray painting.
“You think so?” Liam raised his eyebrows.
“Fine. You don't have a big nose.”
“That’s what I thought.” Liam looked around the gym, thinking that this would
be his last time here with Zayn.
The damaged, waterlogged ceiling, the peeling paint on the walls, the scent of
dust and of a room that was used too infrequently; soon all of it would be
over. His eyes settled on Zayn, who had his eyebrows furrowed as he
concentrated on spray painting. His arms were bare and skinny, his elbow
awkward and knobby, but the movement of his hand was swift and assured.
“I can still train you,” Liam said. “I’ll find a way.”
Zayn looked up, blinking lazily at him. “I know.”
“Why are you so certain?” Liam asked.
“I saw the expression on your face when you saw the bruises on my body,” Zayn’s
eyes shifted away from Liam’s. “And when I told you about what Max did to me at
last year’s formal, it upset you. You don’t want any further harm to come to
me.” Zayn went silent. “I don’t think anyone’s ever…”
“Anyone’s ever what?”
Zayn lifted his eyes, “Cared about me this much.”
It would be easy to agree. To let the words slip out of his mouth stating that
Zayn’s parents had dumped Zayn at McEllan because they couldn’t be less
bothered with him. To agree that it was just Liam, of all the people in the
world, who cared for him.
Liam remembered the fondness on Margaret’s face when she spoke about Zayn. And
as much as he would love to bash Zayn’s parents he didn’t know what reasons
they had to raise Zayn like this. Most of all, he didn’t want Zayn to feel
neglected, unloved and unwanted because that was just wrong.
“Your parents love you, Zayn.”
“You don’t know that, not for sure,” Zayn whispered. Liam was certain if he
leaned forward and kissed Zayn right now, Zayn wouldn’t pull away. But he
couldn’t risk losing Zayn’s trust if he was misreading the situation.
“How could they not?” Liam said.
Zayn shrugged limply, “When I go home at the end of each term, I feel like a
stranger to them.”
“I’m sure they have their reasons for placing you in boarding school,” Liam
said. He didn’t need to glance at his wristwatch to know it was getting late.
They needed to leave.  “It’s not fair and it’s difficult to understand right
now.”  Liam glanced around, they had packed most of their things away but it
wouldn’t hurt to look again. “Before we go, we need to double check that we
haven’t left anything.”
Zayn got to his feet and looked under the benches where he found his water
bottle. Liam was far too careful to have left anything behind, but he pretended
nonetheless to also look. Once that was done, there was nothing left to do but
switch off all the lights and lock the building. Liam would return the key to
the staff room and hopefully no one would have noticed it had been missing.
He drove Zayn back to his boarding house, switching off the lights of his car
when he pulled up in the back parking lot, and let the car idle.
“Thanks, Liam.” Zayn glanced at him. It was too dark to see his face, but Liam
could make out his shiny eyes and the smooth slope of his cheekbones. “Not just
for tonight, but for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Liam said. Zayn leaned across the gear shift and placed his
arms around Liam, pulling away just as soon as the half-hug began. He gathered
his gym bag from the backseat and opened the passenger door.
“I guess I’ll see you in class,” Zayn said on his way out the car.
“Yes, you will.” Liam watched Zayn shut the passenger door before running up
the stairs leading to his house’s entrance.
Tonight had felt like the end of something, which was strange because he hadn’t
started with Zayn. When he turned the car on, he found himself already planning
where they could meet in the future and how he could be alone with Zayn again.
Because, despite any thoughts to the contrary, there was only one way where
this thing with Zayn was headed.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Alice stopped by Liam’s classroom one day after lunch. She knocked once before
poking her head through the door and said, “Are you busy?”
“Not at the moment,” Liam replied. She walked into the classroom and sat at one
of Liam's visitors’ chairs.
“I like what you've done with the place.” She gestured to his desk. “It really
opens up the room.” Alice self-consciously tucked back stray strands of white
blond hair behind her ear. “So… Finland.”
“Yes, it was something.”
“I know you're trying to make it less awkward for me by not bringing it up
these past two months, but I feel so foolish and embarrassed-”
Liam raised his hands up, halting her. “Alice, its water under the bridge.
Don't fret about it. The reason I haven’t mentioned it is because I know it was
a mistake. While you’re here-” Liam reached into his desk drawer and pulled out
the Josephine Hart paperback. “You left this in the staff room. I've been
meaning to return it, but I kept forgetting.”
Alice reached for the paperback. “I was wondering where I left it.” She flipped
the book open to the first page, smoothed down the spine and read out loud.
“There is an internal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its
outlines all our lives.” She looked up at Liam. “That line has always resonated
with me. It just sums up life perfectly. Have you read Damage?”
“Yes.”
She closed the book. “And what do you think of it?”
“The main character allowed an obsession to destroy his life.”
“The narrator had lived a safe, comfortable, somewhat bloodless life. Anna was
his last, if not only, chance to experience passion.” Alice smiled, her blue
eyes twinkling. “His infatuation with her made him cross unspeakable
boundaries.”
“Good that did him.” Liam realised he could use Alice’s impromptu visit to his
advantage. “I just finished up with the Year 10s.”
“An interesting group.”
“Yes, they are,” Liam agreed. “I forgot you also take them for English. Are
they any students that are a handful to teach?”
“Just one.”
“Should I guess? The name starts with M and rhymes with million.”
“I'm sure I sound like a terrible person,” Alice lowered her voice. “But taking
the Year 10s without him present has been a vacation and a part of me wished he
would never return to my class.”
If Maximilian Grant-Whitfield knew what was good for him, he would never darken
the doorstep of Liam’s classroom ever again. Just the idea of that twat
invading Zayn’s personal space, thinking that he had the right to lay a finger
on Zayn, made Liam stay up most nights, thinking of various ways he could make
Max pay and pay.
“Max is a-”Cunt. “Nuisance. I'm also certain we aren't the only ones who are
making hay while the sun shines, so to speak.” When Alice raised quizzical
eyebrow, Liam continued. “Since Max hasn’t been present, I've noticed that some
of the other students participate a great deal more in class discussions like
Spencer, Natalie, and,” the only person that mattered, “Zayn.”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose so.”
They both were silent, the far off sound of students’ chattering filtering
through the open windows. “Speaking of Zayn, what do you think of him?” Liam
asked.
Alice shrugged. “He's an introvert. He’s really quiet in class.”
“That's Zayn, all right.”
“He is creative and enjoys to read. He usually receives the highest marks in
the class for his written work.” She smiled. “It makes me glad that he’s turned
things around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard from the staffroom grapevine that Zayn got into some serious trouble
when he was in Year 7.”
“What kind of trouble?” Liam asked as his mind raced over everything he had
found out about Zayn. Liam had never seen anything in the archive that
mentioned Zayn getting into any sort of ‘trouble’.
“It was before my time at McEllan and no one gave away any specific details
about what exactly happened.” Alice tilted her head to the side. “If I’m not
mistaken, someone mentioned that he got suspended.”
Now that he had something, Liam carefully steered the conversation away from
Zayn and thanked Alice for her visit. As soon as she left, he locked his
classroom and walked to Webber House. He was buzzed into the building and he
headed straight to Margaret’s office.
“Liam.” Margaret beamed at him when he walked into her office.
“Hello, Marge. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while so I decided to drop
in.” Liam closed the door and sat down on one of the guest chairs in front of
her desk. “How have you been lately?”
Margaret sighed. “Most of the students are anxious for this term to end. Every
other day they come into my office feigning this and that illness, all to avoid
attending classes, which leaves me with a lot of unnecessary paper work to deal
with.” She stood up and began to file the reports she was holding into the
office cabinet. “How’s the training with Zayn going?” she asked, not looking
up.
“We’ve had to bring the boxing lessons to a halt. The school is renovating the
old gym.”
“Oh yes, I heard about that. What will you do now?”
“I’m not too sure actually. Which reminds me - do you know why he was suspended
four years ago?”
Margaret returned to her chair and sat down. “Where did you hear that?”
“Alice mentioned it. What happened?”
“They wouldn't tell me.”
“Suspension isn’t something Head Master Dunne issues willy-nilly,” Liam pressed
on, leaning forward to make his voice co-conspirator low. “It must have been
something serious.”
“I found it very odd at the time, since Zayn isn’t a troublemaker.” Margaret
shrugged. “Nothing was discussed with me. The only thing they- Mr Dunne and the
school board told me was that I had to grant him space when he came back.”
“And Zayn? How did he take it?”
“He was quieter than usual when he returned.”
Liam lifted one of her glass paper weights and balanced it on his hand. “And
the rest of the students? Surely they were rumours about why Zayn was
suspended.”
“There are always rumours,” Margaret said wryly. “After a while, in this
environment, you learn that more often than not, they are false. Just fireside
ghost stories.”
“And what was the rumour around this?”
“They said- You know what? It’s ridiculous.” Her eyes skirted to the door
before meeting his.
“Marge, I'd still like to hear it.”
“They said Zayn stabbed another student.” She shook her head. “Utter nonsense.
Zayn would never harm a fly.”
Liam balanced the paper weight in his hands. He had learned that the thing with
rumours was that there was often no smoke without a fire.
                                  *** *** ***
Obtaining access to Zayn's file in Head Master Dunne's office was the way to do
it.
All other avenues - the school grapevine, subtle enquiries to Alice and Mason
and gossiping with the school secretary, Miss Ackerman, had all led to a dead
end. Also, with each passing day, he felt like the connection he had made with
Zayn during the time Liam had trained him, was disappearing. They saw each
other in class, which was hardly the same to the time they had spent in the old
gym.
Liam found himself devising a plan to get his hands on Zayn's student file.
Every student had one and he knew that the files were kept in Head Master
Dunne's office. No one was allowed access to the files apart from the old
geezer, but rumour had it that Miss Ackerman kept a key to his office.
Liam walked to the Admin department one day and headed straight to Miss
Ackerman's desk. She was seated at her desk, typing away when he approached.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello.” she smiled up at him. “I haven't seen much of you since you started. I
hope you haven't been summoned by the Head Master.”
Liam shook his head. “No, I haven't, thank goodness. Those summons aren't ever
pleasant from what I hear.” He walked closer to her desk. “I was hoping to ask
a small favour from you.”
She raised a blonde brow. “Yes, continue.”
“With the end of the term approaching, I’m hoping to throw a party for the
staff, just a little something to show my appreciation for everyone being so
welcoming,” Liam lied. “But the thing is, I’m absolutely horrible at planning
things. I heard that you organised this year's Valentine’s Day Formal. Would
you mind helping me out? Maybe showing me some pointers?”
“I'm awfully busy-” Miss Ackerman started to say.
“I promise it’ll be just be a few hours of your time.” Liam placed his palms
together in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Please?”
“Okay, okay.” She held out one finger. “Just one afternoon.”
Liam smiled. “One afternoon is all I need.”
                                  *** *** ***
On Friday, the following week, he met with Miss Ackerman on an afternoon when
Head Master Dunne was away attending some public school conference in London.
The rest of the admin staff had gone home, leaving him and the secretary. A few
minutes into their meeting, she received a call.
It would be Margaret calling from the Webber House on an urgent matter. Liam
had told her to confide in Miss Ackerman about the Maximilian and Zayn
situation. When Margaret had seemed hesitant, he had stressed that Max would be
returning to school in the next couple of weeks, hale and hearty, with months
of pent up rage to unleash onto Zayn. That had given her enough incentive to
want to tell on Max.
Liam had told Margaret to call Miss Ackerman this afternoon at 5;30PM - no
sooner and no later, requesting Miss Ackerman to meet her at Webber House.
Margaret was not allowed to accept ‘no’ for an answer. Sitting opposite Miss
Ackerman, he watched as she tried to schedule another time to see Margaret.
After a while she nodded and said 'uh-uh' before she hung up.
“I have to visit a House Matron.” She stood up. “Maybe we can schedule-”
“I don't mind waiting,” Liam said.
“I’ll try to be quick.” She left the office.
Liam stood up, glancing up and down the corridor before closing the door. He
immediately walked to her desk to rummage through the drawers. Third draw
revealed a silver key which he used to unlock Dunne's office. He switched the
lights on and quickly opened the file cabinet in the corner where he looked at
the files. How were these organised? By year? No, by surname. Top row was A
through D and the middle row was E through H; Zayn's file would be in the third
row.
Liam retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. The first page was an
application form Zayn’s parents had completed to motivate why they wanted him
to attend McEllan Academy. The next form was an aptitude text Zayn had taken a
few months later - he was seven years of age at the time. There were pages of
email correspondence from Zayn's parents and the Head Master. There were also
emails from the Head Master to Zayn's pre-primary head teacher and then a final
letter of acceptance.
Liam flipped past the next binder. School reports and emails between the Webber
House Master and Head Master Dunne. Liam read through it quickly. Zayn had run
away and he had been found at the bus stop. He stopped and flipped to the next
page. The following year’s school reports had mentions of tardiness and poor
behaviour, including Zayn getting into a fight with Maximilian. Liam took a
picture, seeing that the email was dated four years back. Both boys were
reprimanded. Liam paged quickly until he found an email from Head Master Dunne
to the Maliks, which was headlined; Zayn threatens fellow McEllanian with a
knife.
Liam read through its contents.
Good Morning Mr and Mrs Malik,
I hope you are well.
With a heavy heart, I regret to inform you that Zayn has been suspended due to
threatening another student with a knife.
This comes as a great shock as we had hoped he had worked through his
behavioural issues this past year. This act of violence tells us that maybe
further work must be done to assist him with his anger issues. Fortunately, the
teacher present managed to take the knife away from Zayn and no one was hurt.
Please come down to McEllan so we can discuss this matter and ascertain what
further course of action we must take to set Zayn down the right path.
Yours Sincerely,
Head Master Dunne
Liam flipped to the next page where a teacher had filed an incident report. It
was someone he hadn't heard of; a Mr Corrigan. The incident report stated that
Mr Corrigan had been leaving the theatre when he heard a commotion inside. When
he investigated, he found Zayn standing over the other student, threatening him
with a switchblade. Mr Corrigan diffused the situation by tackling Zayn for the
knife and immediately reported him. Zayn was escorted from the premises before
being suspended.
Liam took a photograph of the incident report before closing the file and
returning it to its place. He closed the file cabinet, switched off all the
lights, and returned to his seat opposite Miss Ackerman's desk, waiting for her
to return from her meeting with Margaret.
                                 *** ***  ***
He and Sophia lounged by the pool that evening, watching the lights bounce off
the water. Liam was nursing a glass of red wine while Sophia paged through some
files from work.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the report from Dunne's office. He had barely
been able to focus when Miss Ackerman returned from her meeting with Margaret,
rushing through the list of questions he had prepared regarding the so-called
party he was planning for the faculty. He had no choice now but to go ahead
with it. He'd ask Sophia's friend, the party planner, to arrange it, of course.
He had to save his energy, focusing on more important matters. Like Zayn and
the allegations of him threatening to stab another student.
He glanced at Sophia, who was sat on a lounger beside him, paging through a
thick file. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she concentrated on whatever she was
reading.
“Hey, Sophs.” Liam nudged at her foot with his when she didn't respond the
first time he spoke.
“Oh, sorry.” She bookmarked a page and closed the heavy arch lever file.
“Things have been hectic at work. What were you saying?”
“Did you have a Mr Corrigan when you attended McEllan?” Liam asked. Sophia
carefully set aside the file and reached for the glass of cranberry juice she'd
put aside earlier.
“Why are you asking?” She cradled the glass, not drinking. Her words were
spoken carefully. Liam considered for a moment before he shrugged.
“Just heard his name around school.” Liam sipped his wine. “I wanted to hear
your exaggerated spin on the man.”
“What were they saying; the people you overheard?” Sophia asked.
“Not much.” Liam shifted on the lounger so he lay on his side, facing Sophia.
“Was he around when you attended McEllan?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What was he like?” Liam pressed.
“I don’t know. He was a teacher, not my friend.” Sophia retrieved her file and
opened to the page she had bookmarked. Liam watched as she furrowed her brow as
she pretended to read.
“You didn't ask if he was still teaching,” Liam observed.
Sophia looked up, “I'd be very surprised if he still was around.”
“Why?” Liam sat up and face Sophia. It wasn't like her to be so evasive.
Usually Sophia loved to gossip. This evasive act she was performing made him
more interested in figuring out this Mr Corrigan person and what part he had
played in the incident in Zayn’s file.
“When Sam and Steve attended, there were rumours about Mr Corrigan.” Sophia
placed her file aside.
Liam frowned, “What kind of rumours?”
“Nothing was ever proven, but the story circulating was that he had a taste for
much, much, muchyounger lovers.” Sophia shook her head in disgust.
Liam kept his face carefully neutral. “How can a teacher continue to teach when
such rumours were floating around about him?”
“As I said, it was never substantiated. I just figured someone finally told a
parent or a teacher and Mr Corrigan got fired.”
“And your brothers? Did they believe the rumours?” Liam asked.
“I never asked them,” Sophia said. “But the story going around school was that
he liked to lure students to his house, which was on-campus. And mind you,
these little visits would occur at atrocious hours. 11PM on a Friday or 10;30PM
on a Saturday.” Sophia’s voice had taken on that cadence it took when she was
sharing particularly good gossip. And, unlike the times when he had to hear
about her friend Claire’s underage abortion or how Sam’s first wife had been a
coked-up Hollywood actress, Liam was genuinely intrigued and she knew it.
“And the House Matrons just let him entertain students so late at night?” Liam
wasn’t sure why he was even surprised. Hadn’t Margaret practically gift-wrapped
Zayn and placed him on Liam’s lap?
Who wasn’t to say that this Mr Corrigan hadn’t been a snake charmer of sorts
himself? It was always the ones that people least suspected. The general public
should know that now, what with Jimmy Savile and his sordid circle being left
out to dry. Not that Liam considered himself to be in the leagues of Savile and
his friends, but he held no illusions. He knew the things that he did weren’t
right.
“He was a teacher and also a very handsome, charismatic man. He resembled Roger
Moore in his Bond heydays.” Sophia shook her head. “I mean that’s what I heard
on campus. Mr Corrigan, McEllan’s own 007.”
“And he put that charisma to good use on the House Matrons?” Liam asked.
“That he did. He concocted all sorts of reasons as to why students were
congregating at his house. And rumour had it that one day he took things too
far. He made a pass to a student. There were never any formal charges laid
against him, but several years later he mysteriously resigned, with immediate
effect.” The way Sophia emphasised the three words made Liam curious.
“What does that mean?”
Sophia gave him a coy smile. “Whenever McEllan terminates a faculty member,
that’s how they phrase it in the notification email.”
“So he was kicked to the curb?”
“Effectively, yes.”
                                  *** *** ***
The next Saturday, Liam took it upon himself to locate Mr Corrigan. He visited
McEllan’s library and searched through the school archives for any coverage of
the man. He found a newsletter from five years ago of an interschool gala where
Mr George Corrigan was one of the attendees. The archive also had a picture of
Mr Corrigan as he stood at the outskirts of the sports field watching a relay
race.
The all-boys, Under 13 relay race.
Liam searched the online local Yellow Pages for G. Corrigan and found two
listed. He wrote the addresses and left the Library.
The first G Corrigan whose door he knocked turned out to be Grace Corrigan, a
delightful old lady in her seventies, who invited him in for tea and jam
scones, despite having no idea why he was visiting her. She was dressed like
she was on her way to attend a Sunday sermon, complete with a dainty hat and
lace gloves. He had some time so Liam accepted her offer and stayed for late
afternoon tea and scones. When she finally got to asking why he had knocked on
her door, he informed her he was actually looking for a George Corrigan.
As luck would have it, George was her cousin and indeed lived in the next
address Liam was going to visit. He mentioned that he knew George from his time
at McEllan and wanted to catch up with him.
“He doesn't get out much anymore, our George,” Mrs Corrigan commented, sipping
delicately at her tea. “Ever since he retired, he stays at home.”
“Why is that?” Liam asked. Mrs Corrigan gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders.
“Not much left for him in the outside world.” She steered the conversation to
the collection of vintage Russian dolls she had and offered to show them to
Liam, who declined and said he had to be off.
He left her house and drove to Woodmead Street where George Corrigan's address
was listed. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was a two-story with a
cream colour that might have been white back in the day. The grass on the lawn
was not cut and newspapers were stacked in the rusty mailbox. Liam parked his
car in the driveway, walked up the path, and he knocked on the front door.
“Who is it?” a quivering, frail voice asked.
“Cecil Daly,” Liam said. He looked into the peephole. “I'm writing a book about
Ian Cross, the Booker Prize winning writer. I believe you taught him from 1993
to 1998?”
There was a creak on the other side of the door before it opened and George
Corrigan appeared. At least, Liam thought that the figure that stood before him
was George Corrigan. From what he gathered, George Corrigan had resigned four
years ago at 49 years of age, which made him 53 now. The frail figure that
presented itself looked at least 80 years old.
The old man coughed. “Come in, Mr Daly.”
“I’m a freelance writer,” Liam provided.
They shook hands and Liam walked into the dimly-lit house. The inside of the
house was in a far worse state than the exterior; piles of yellowing newspapers
and books covered most of the surfaces. The house was seeped in stale tobacco
and an odour that Liam could only classify as 'old person smell’: Moth balls,
fabric softener, urine, and chronic medication. It reminded Liam of visiting
his grandmother at the hospital when he was a child. Corrigan indicated for
Liam sit. Liam sat down and pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“You want to hear about Ian Cross?” Corrigan wheezed wetly as he took a seat,
covering his mouth with a handkerchief.
“Yes.”
“I've read all of his books.” Corrigan pointed weakly to a bookshelf in the
corner of the room. “He was a good writer, even back then.”
“It wasn't much of a surprise for you when he won a prestigious literary
award?” Liam asked.
“I always hope for the best for my students,” Corrigan said. “Some do better
than others.”
Liam glanced at the notepad he had at his knee. “You resigned from McEllan four
years ago?”
“For personal reasons, yes.”
“Personal reasons being allegations of you molesting a student?” Liam asked. He
watched Corrigan's face go from grey to a ghostly white.
“I, uh-” Corrigan stood up. “Get out of my house!” he demanded.
“I'm not done,” Liam said. It was hypocritical, but he hated the idea of
becoming this pathetic old man. He didn’t want to live in a putrid house
surrounded by little mementos of his former life. Liam thought he would swallow
a bullet before getting to this point. Liam stalked towards Corrigan. “Tell me
about Zayn Malik. Is he one of yours?”
“Zayn?” Corrigan frowned, sagging jowls jiggling as he shook his head. “You
don't understand.”
“I do understand, much more than you think.” Liam pulled up the incident report
he had printed the night before. “What happened that day? Why isn't the other
student named in the report?”
“I tried to help Zayn.” Corrigan reached for his glasses and read the report
Liam thrust into his hands.
“By assaulting him?”
“You have it all wrong.” Corrigan handed Liam the report back and pocketed his
glasses in the breast pocket of his shirt. “I never touched any of my- that
rumour was started by a malicious student whose advances I had refused.” He
handed the report back to Liam and walked to the corner of the room, where he
poured scotch into a glass. “They said that they believed me - the other
teachers. But that incident with Zayn was the last straw. They wanted to make
me out into a monster. ‘Resign, take your pension, and leave’, Dunne said. So I
did. And they promised they would not investigate the allegations.”
“Why isn't the name of the other student that Zayn stabbed in any of the
reports?”
“There wasn't another student.” Corrigan drained his glass. “Zayn tried to kill
himself. The school and I covered it up.”
“What?” Liam looked at the page in his hand as if he expected the words in the
incident report to have changed from the other dozen times he had read them.
“He overdosed on his antidepressant medication in the amphitheatre. I was
directing the school play that day and I found him unconscious behind the
stage. I called an ambulance. Dunne knew Zayn was depressed and he didn't want
the school to be investigated by the school counsel, so he buried what
happened. He sent Zayn to be treated by a doctor friend of his and he convinced
Zayn to go along with the story which he had concocted.” Corrigan gave a dry
cough. “There was never any ‘stabbing incident’. That part was added by Dunne
to cover up the ambulance.”
“I don't believe you.” It didn't make sense. Why would Head Master Dunne lie
about Zayn trying to commit suicide at the school?
“I'm dying; pancreatic cancer. Ask my doctors. I no longer have a reason to
lie.” Corrigan shook his head, his sunken eyes darkening. “Just think about it.
In 1972, McEllan started taking female pupils. These students would normally
have attended Our Lady Grace, but the Head Mistress who ran it was charged with
child neglect when two students committed suicide in 1969 on the school
premises.” Corrigan took his glasses and wiped the frames on his trouser legs
before he put them back on and continued speaking.
“The Public School committee had the school shut down and all those students,
daughters of wealthy men and women, were suddenly in need of a boarding school.
McEllan immediately seized the opportunity and announced that they would be
taking in female students.” Corrigan coughed, covering his mouth with a
handkerchief. “Dunne knew what was at stake if the media caught wind of a
student trying to take his own life on campus. Let’s just say the co-ed gravy
train would be brought to a halt. One violent student; that type of scandal the
school could endure. But a depressed, self-harming child who had cried for help
and been ignored? The general public would have crucified Dunne and his
cronies.”
Liam eyed Corrigan. “And you just went along with it?”
“Rumours of me molesting a student were already running amok at the school. If
I was suddenly fired and Dunne whispered ‘child rapist’ in the right ears, it
would have ruined me.” Corrigan sighed, staring off into the distance. “So I
went along with Dunne’s plan. I know it was wrong, but what options did I have
at the time?”
“And the student, the one who started the rumours about you, what was the boy's
name?”
“It was a girl.” Corrigan coughed and cleared his throat. “Her name is Sophia
Smith.”
                                  *** *** ***
Liam left Corrigan's house but he didn't know where he was going. He didn’t
know if he would return home to Sophia or just get on the motorway and drive
until he ran out of road. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the
trees sped past. He didn't want to go home at all. He wanted to see Zayn. He
pulled his car to a halt, right in the middle of the road, and reached for his
cell phone. He dialled the number of the burner phone he had given Zayn and
waited.
It rang once, twice, three times. He saw a car approaching from behind him and
then heard an ear splitting honk. The driver of the car swerved onto the
oncoming lane, honking twice more as he overtook Liam's car, before swerving
back into the lane.
Liam was about to hang up when Zayn answered. “Liam?” He was whispering and
there was a weird echo on his line.
“Zayn, I need to see you,” Liam said.
“I'm at Webber House and we've just been locked in, so I don't think I can-”
“It's urgent.”
“The House Master will do his rounds in an hour and after that we're supposed
to go to bed,” Zayn said. “I'm not-”
“Is there any way you can leave the House?”
“Um, I'm not sure.” The line cracked, Zayn's voice echoing on the last word.
“Where are you right now?”
“I didn't want my roommate to see I have another phone, so I went to the
bathroom.” More static. “The cell phone connection is shit here, sorry.”
“Can you come out and see me?” Liam asked.
“The prefects have an early morning meeting in the school hall tomorrow so
they’ve been given a copy of the house key. They're playing cards right now in
the break room, I can sneak into their room and borrow it.” Zayn said. “If I
get the key, I can only leave once the House Master has finished doing his
rounds.”
“That’s fine. I'm driving right now.” Liam put the car into first gear and made
a three-point turn. “Ring me when you’re out of the house.”
***** Chapter 10 *****
It was risky driving into McEllan on a Saturday night. His access card would be
logged and there would be a digital record of his visit stored somewhere. But,
it was a compulsion with him to see Zayn, and it had to be tonight because he
didn't trust himself to drive back home to Sophia. He had been so worried that
she would discover his perversions that he hadn't paused to consider that he
wasn't the only person in this marriage with secrets.
He pulled behind Webber House and killed the engine. The House was dark and the
campus was quiet, leaving him with his many thoughts. Corrigan said that Zayn
had tried to kill himself. Eleven years of age and Zayn had wanted to die. It
made Liam feel... sad. Zayn was a frail damaged boy. Did Liam really want to do
further damage to him?
He saw the familiar figure running down the steps and Liam unlocked his car.
Zayn climbed into the passenger side.
“You made it out,” Liam said, studying Zayn as he took off the black beanie he
was wearing, running his hands through his hair.
“Yeah, you said it was important.” Zayn placed the beanie in his lap and
glanced at Liam. “What is it?”
Liam looked around. The dark parking lot was not the place where he wanted to
have this conversation. “Do you want to go for a drive?”
“Off campus?” Zayn asked.
“Yes.”
“I'd love to.”
Liam started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He remained silent when
they drove through the school gate and onto the quiet road. He didn't know
where he was going as he followed the desolate, quiet road. He drove further
and further out of town and onto the freeway. Halfway to London, he saw an off-
ramp and he took it. At the first Travel Lodge he saw, he pulled into the half
vacant car park.
“Stay in the car,” Liam instructed. He went to the reception and paid for a
room for one night in cash. The woman, who was in her fifties with a hard look
to her face which spoke of a life lived roughly, glanced out to the parking lot
and spotted Zayn’s figure inside Liam’s car.  
“Ten pounds extra if you have a guest,” she said, her voice leering on the word
guest. Liam looked out the window to the car park and even from a distance, he
could make out Zayn’s boyish silhouette. She probably figured Zayn was a rent
boy and Liam was his client.
Liam reached for his wallet and pulled out ten pounds. She gave him the room
key and he exited the main building block.
“Let's go,” he said to Zayn when he returned to the car and he led him to the
flatlets outside woman had directed him to.  He opened the room and turned on
the lights. To say it was seedy would be an understatement; there was a lumpy
looking bed in the centre of the room and the entire place stunk of detergent.
Liam walked to the windows and pulled the bright yellow curtains shut. When he
turned around, Zayn was still rooted at the open door.
“Zayn, come inside and shut the door.” Liam sat on the bed. Zayn nodded once
before entering the room and locking the door. He looked around the decrepit
interior and sat beside Liam on the mattress. “I thought after you'd told me
about what Max did at last year's formal, that that was the end of it, that you
had shared everything. But then today I find out about- I spoke to Mr Corrigan.
You remember him, right?” Liam watched Zayn’s jaw twitch. Zayn kept his gaze
fixed on the stained carpet. “You tried to kill yourself?”
“Is that what he told you?” Zayn whispered.
“Is it the truth?”
Zayn shook his head. “I didn’t mean it. I only wanted my parents to come fetch
me and take me home.”
“But you could have died,” Liam exclaimed.
“Maybe that would have not been so bad.”
“You can’t possibly mean that.”
“My parents basically dumped me at McEllan. My mum wouldn’t take my calls and I
was miserable every single day because I knew that they had gone on with their
lives without me. I felt as if I must have done something wrong to be sent
away. I just wanted- I still want-” Zayn turned to Liam, his eyes eclipsed in
unshed tears.  
Liam pulled Zayn into his arms, shhing him, trying to finds words of
encouragement, yet nothing came to mind. He reached out a hand and ran it
through Zayn's hair.
“Zayn, there's something so much better out there. Something worth sticking
around for.” Liam said through a thick lump in his throat. He let go of Zayn.
Zayn looked at Liam, tears clinging to his lashes. “Did you manage to find it?”
Liam thought about Louis, three and half years back, when they had started
things up again. Liam had stumbled into a random London pub for a drink one
night. He had sat down at the counter and heard a familiar voice say, “Out of
all of the pubs in all the world, you walk into mine.”
Liam's head had jerked up and he met blue eyes he had once known so well. He
had been married for less than a year and hated it. Far often than not, he
thought about his life before he married Sophia; of Niall, Harry, and then
Louis. Where were they now? And just like he had wished him, Louis was standing
in front of him, an easy smile on his lips and Liam realised that God, he had
missed him.
“I see you got married.” Louis had pointed to the ring on Liam's left hand.
“Yeah, I did.” Liam covered his left hand with his right, twisting the gold
band around his finger.
“That rich bird Sophia?”
“Yes.”
Louis had done an upsweep of Liam. “Looks like marriage suits you.”
Liam had agreed noncommittally before he ordered a drink and sat at the bar,
polishing one drink after the other, watching patrons arriving and leaving. In
between their orders, Louis would come up to Liam and chat with him. Louis had
dropped out of school, opting not to do his A-levels. The pub was his uncle’s
and he worked there part-time.
Then closing time had arrived and he and Louis had walked out, shoulder to
shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to go home and he found himself in Louis’ cramped
flat and just like a year hadn’t passed they were kissing hard, their hands all
over each other’s bodies, trying to fuck quietly so they didn’t disturb Louis’
studying roommate in the adjacent room.
Afterwards, Liam had laid nude in Louis' bed, looking at Louis as he slept. 
“Have you ever wondered why you're the way you are?” Louis had asked without
opening his eyes. Not asleep after all.
“I've never been one for deep introspection,” Liam replied.
Louis shifted onto his side so he and Liam were face-to-face, his eyes still
shut. “But there has to be a reason, why you- normal people don't have sex with
children.”
“You weren't a child.”
“Try telling the long arm of the law that,” Louis said. He nudged Liam with his
bare shoulder. “It's just me. No accountability or judgement, just tell me.”
“I don't know.” Liam pulled the duvet over his lower body, covering his groin.
“Did someone touch you when you a child?”
“No. Nothing like that ever happened to me,” Liam said. He remembered his first
time with Niall all those years back in the woods, when he had first felt the
maddening rush of being in charge of someone else. “The first time I had sex,
it was with a boy my age. It was-” Heady. Enthralling. Addictive. “I liked
being bigger than him and being able to order him around. He never complained;
he always took it.”
“But that would make you a Dom, which you're not. Believe me, I've slept with a
few since we parted. What drew you to Harry?”
“Harry was beguiling,” Liam said, recalling the first time he saw Harry Styles.
“I just wanted him.”
“What particularly did you fancy about him?”
“There was something about- it was like I could recognise myself in him. I
wanted a part of him to be mine. It sounds stupid, since he was just thirteen
with his entire life ahead of him and I was just me, always wanting.”
“It can't be great going through life feeling like that,” Louis said.
“It isn't.” Liam shifted closer to Louis, studying the changes to his face. A
year and half ago, Louis had accused him of not wanting him anymore because he
was getting older, but Liam thought he had never seen Louis look more beautiful
than he looked right now.
Louis opened his eyes and held Liam’s gaze. “Did you ever love me?”
Liam frowned. “You were a great comfort to me.”
“Yet that didn't stop you from discarding that so called 'great comfort' out as
soon as something better came along.” Louis exhaled hard. “Have there been
others beside me and Harry?”
Liam shook his head. “I don't teach anymore.”
“If you did, would there be?”
“Probably,” Liam replied honestly. He watched Louis blink away tears.
“You and me just now- were you faking it?” Louis choked out a sob. “Were you
fantasising about some boy?”
“No, it was just you.” Liam roughed a hand through his hair. Louis was asking
Liam for something Liam wasn’t capable of giving. “I can’t change. Don't you
think I've tried? I don't want to be the way I am.”
“Then just stop.”
“It's not as easy as that.” There was that thing in the attic - never appeased,
always wanting more and more and more.
“Why not?”
Louis' voice echoed in Liam's mind as he stared at Zayn. Could he just stop? He
had stayed away for months. But here he was in the middle of nowhere with Zayn
looking at him with wonderment, like Liam held the answer to every prayer he
ever had. How could he walk away from that?
“I’m still looking,” Liam finally said.
“But then how can you be certain that there is something better out there?”
Zayn asked.
“Because-” There had to be. Liam broke eye contact with Zayn. He stood up from
the bed, putting as much space as he could between them. He walked across room
and leaned his forearms against the wall, bowing his head.
“Because of what?” Zayn said, behind him.
Liam refused to turn around and look at him. He wasn’t going to go ahead with
his plan. He was going to do right by Zayn. He would return Zayn back to
McEllan before driving home and destroying all his files on Zayn. Then on
Monday, he was going to type out a resignation letter and hand it to Head
Master Dunne before leaving McEllan. And when he drove out of the school he was
going to discard the secret cell phone that he used to contact Zayn.
“Why did you bring me here?” Zayn asked.
Liam steeled himself and turned around. “We need to get going.”
“I don’t want to go back to McEllan.”
“You have to.”
Zayn rose from the bed and walked over to Liam. He wrapped his arms around
Liam’s waist, pressing his head into Liam’s chest. Liam stood still and allowed
Zayn to cry in his arms. Zayn clung to him, reminding Liam of another fifteen
year old boy who had cried in his arms, years ago. 
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, patting Zayn’s head.
He didn’t know how long they stood there like that. Somewhere, outside in the
night, a car sped past. Liam froze when he felt Zayn’s hands exploring his
back. Zayn stepped closer, tilting his head back, rising on his toes, his
breath ghosting over Liam’s lips. Zayn’s body, warm and eager, seared Liam
where their skin touched. Zayn looked up at Liam, cheeks wet, eyes pleading.
Liam placed his hands on Zayn’s waist, halting his movement. He could hear the
shallow breaths Zayn took and the faint tick of the clock above the telly.
“No,” Liam said firmly. He sidestepped Zayn and stalked to the window, dragging
the piss yellow curtains asunder, letting the outside in.
Liam turned around. “We’re leaving. Now.”
                                  *** *** ***
Liam held the motel door open for Zayn, who walked through it while
determinedly not meeting Liam's eyes. They took the stairs and Liam remotely
unlocked his Aston Martin and they climbed into the car. Liam glanced at Zayn,
who was staring fixedly ahead, before starting the engine.
He wanted to say something, but the right words just wouldn't come out. God, he
hadn't been thinking clearly. Why had he brought Zayn to that rundown lodge? Of
course Zayn thought that something was going to happen between them; what other
business would a grown man have with a teenager at a pay-by-the-hour type of
establishment?
It was Corrigan and Sophia's fucking fault. Liam had spent the past night
consumed with the idea that some vile man had hurt Zayn. The hypocrisy of the
situation was not lost on Liam.  Just stop, Louis had told him. But could he
really? The traffic light up ahead was red and he stopped at the intersection.
The engine's vibration was soft and Liam felt the leather steering wheel it hum
under his palms. The car felt too confining, as if his thoughts were taking too
much space. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he willed the
lights to turn green, allowing him to release the brake and speed off into the
empty, silent street.
Zayn's leg twitched and Liam glanced at him. Zayn stared out the passenger
window at the rundown buildings on the street. This entire part of town was a
dump. Why the fuck had he brought them here? Zayn was a sheltered boy, used to
finer things in life. He wasn't like Liam, who would always be courser around
the edges and didn't have the niceties of polite society ingrained in him from
birth.
Just stop. Just walk away. Just say something. Just kiss him. The conflicting
impulses warred within Liam.
Zayn. Just open your mouth and say his name. Liam turned to look at Zayn, who
now had his arms folded tightly and was still staring out the window.
Zayn, Liam thought. I'm... He didn't know what he was.
Zayn's right knee rose and fell as he tapped his feet. He turned to look at
Liam, half his face lit up by the weak street light, before setting his jaw and
looking straight ahead. His voice, when he spoke, was tight with emotion.
 “Go,” Zayn said. Was that anger? Sadness? Liam couldn't tell.
“Huh?” Liam asked rather stupidly.
“The light. It’s green.” Zayn gestured with his head. Liam turned his head to
look and yes, it was green. He released the brakes and pulled off. Whatever
words he wanted to say to Zayn were left behind in the dust.
                                  *** *** ***
The car ride back to McEllan was silent. Liam pulled into the parking lot
behind the Webber House, killed the engine, and waited.
“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was shaky.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry that I tried to kiss you.” Zayn sounded embarrassed.
And God, wasn’t that a fucking sword to Liam’s chest. Zayn was apologising to
him. Liam, who had wanted to do all types of perversions to Zayn, who had been
fantasising about him for months, and slowly biding his time until he could
live them all out. He had a fucking dossier on Zayn. He had lied and pushed and
shoved his way into Zayn’s good graces and today he was having a moment of
clarity and seeing himself for the scum he was and had finally decided to be a
decent person for the first time in his fucked up life and do the right thing.
Two weeks back, Zayn wouldn’t have walked out that hotel room a virgin. Fuck, a
day ago, Liam would have flattened him on the bed, and been inside him in a
heartbeat, getting what he’d wanted from day one.
Liam put on his teacher mask and locked that part of himself in that windowless
attic, throwing away the key.
“I don’t think I can train you anymore.” Take it, Zayn. This is an out.Forget
that this night ever happened. Nothing further could ever happen. The first
person Zayn would be with, would be deserving of him, not some leech like Liam.
Zayn nodded as if he had expected as much. “I’ll see you on Monday, Mr Smith-
Payne.” He reached for the door and paused when Liam didn’t answer. “Right,
sir?”
Walk away. That’s what Liam was supposed to do. But if he did, Zayn would think
that it was his fault. Liam couldn’t do that to him. I felt as if I must have
done something wrong to be sent away.
“See you on Monday, Zayn,” Liam said.
 Zayn’s shoulders sagged with relief and he exited the car. Liam watched him
walk up the stairs until he disappeared. This would be the end of it.
 He would never allow himself to be alone with Zayn - ever again.
***** Chapter 11 *****
The Leonard Street church looked like any other church from the outside. It had
a tall pyramidal roof with gable ends along with granite walls that were
outfitted with stained glass windows. On a Sunday morning, church bells could
be heard ringing for miles, and Leonard Street, which was presently quiet, got
lined with vehicles of the church’s patrons.
Liam stood across the street, watching the church steps. It was a warm night,
late summer making the air balmy and the light jacket he wore feeling heavy.
For the first time since he quit smoking, he ached for a cigarette. He wished
he could reach into his jean pocket and pull out a Dunhill, light it up, and
inhale the nicotine deep into his lungs, providing himself with a distraction -
something else he could do instead of gripping the half crushed, tattered page
he held with both hands.
This was the third Wednesday evening he had spent outside the church, trying to
gather courage to walk across the narrow street, climb the stairs, and walk
inside it. The page in his hands trembled as a light breeze blew. He folded the
page and placed it in his right jean pocket.
Another time. He would return another time.
Liam was preparing to leave and he had even turned away from the church when he
heard voices from across the street. He glanced back and quickly hid behind a
lamp post. Harry stood on top of the church stairs, chatting to a girl and boy
who looked around his age. Liam felt his chest constrict as he watched Harry
hug the pair goodbye before they walked away.
Liam knew he looked like a mad man trying to hide behind a lamp pole, but he
wasn't ready yet; he didn't have the courage to walk across the street and talk
to Harry like a normal person. All he could do was wait for Harry to walk back
into the church, then skulk off into the night. He was a coward. The last two
Wednesdays had proven that.
Harry did not enter the church. Instead, he walked down the stairs and across
the street, heading towards Liam. When Liam realised he had been spotted, he
quickly turned and began heading up the street.
“Mr Payne,” Harry called out from behind him. Liam stopped mid-step. He turned
and Harry jogged to catch up with Liam.
“Harry,” Liam said when Harry reached him. He found he couldn't meet Harry's
eyes and he glanced at the street, watching the passing cars.
“I was hoping you'd come in this time,” Harry said.
Liam glanced at him. “This time?”
Harry nodded. “I've seen you standing here these past few weeks. Louis told me
that you wanted to speak to me. I have been waiting for you.”
Harry still sort of looked the same as he had when he was thirteen, but better.
Soft baby fat had given away to a nicely shaped jaw and his hair was longer,
hanging to his shoulders. His eyes were still intense, shining with the manic
light of the pious. Liam wanted to sprint down the street and get away from
Harry, but he remained rooted to the spot.
“Yes, I need to speak to you,” Liam admitted.
“Do you want to come inside the church? I have a room where we could speak.”
Liam’s eyes shifted away from Harry's as he remembered the last time the two of
them had been alone in a room together.
“I don't think-”
“There's a coffee shop down the street.” Harry offered quickly. “We can speak
there.”
“Lead the way,” Liam said. Harry turned to the opposite direction and Liam
followed after him.
                                  *** *** ***
Coffee Xpress was a coffee shop slash bakery slash bar slash club. It was a
short distance from the church and local university. Most of its patrons were
students. They sat in groups, textbooks and coffee mugs cluttered on their
tables as they chattered. Harry asked for an outside table on the balcony and
their waiter led them to their table, handing them two menus before leaving.
Harry opened his while Liam left his own menu where the waiter had placed it.
His gut felt sour, as if it were filled with bile, and he didn't think he could
stomach food.
“The carrot cake here is amazing,” Harry said as he went through the menu.
“I'm sure it is.” Liam looked around. There was a couple seated a few tables
from them, chatting over the lit candle of their table. A man sat alone, typing
away on his laptop. Liam cleared his throat. “Harry,” he said.
Harry looked up and the easy expression he had been wearing shifted. He closed
his copy of the menu. “Yes?”
“I'm-” Fucking hell, his throat felt tight. He reached into his jean pocket and
retrieved the page, unfolding it with trembling hands. He smoothed out the
creased corners and read, certain that if he stopped and met Harry's eyes, the
words would fail him.
“Dear Harry,
Eight years have come to pass since you were my student. I want to apologise to
you on how I conducted myself when I was your teacher. You were a child and I
tried to take advantage of you.”
Liam reached for the glass and poured water into it from the pitcher,
swallowing down the entire glass. He picked the page up and read on.
“I want to atone for the things I have done and be a better person. You have no
reason to accept this apology, but it comes from the bottom of my heart.” Liam
folded the page and placed it in his pocket. “Yours sincerely, Mr Payne.”
Silence fell over their table. Liam couldn't meet Harry's eyes and he found
himself staring off into the distance, somewhere above Harry's right shoulder.
His mouth was dry again and he reached for the pitcher, pouring out another
generous glass of water.
“Mr Payne,” Harry said. Liam met Harry's eyes. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
Harry fiddled with his napkin. “Nothing happened.”
“It could have,” Liam said. “I wanted it to.”
“The fact that you're here trying to make up for something that happened years
ago tells me that you want to change.” A waiter arrived and Harry ordered a
cappuccino while Liam passed on ordering. Once the waiter had taken the orders,
he left. Harry continued to speak. “What's different with you now?”
Liam thought about Zayn and how he didn't want to be another disappointment to
him. “For the first time, I believe that I can change.”
“And Louis? Did he play a role in this epiphany?”
“Partially. He's on the list of the people I have to apologise to.” Liam
glanced at his Casio wristwatch. “I need to get going before I miss the last
train.”
Harry reached for Liam's arm. “If you ever want to talk, I volunteer at the
church. You can find me there three times a week.” Liam nodded once and made
the way to the door.
                                  *** *** ***
When he arrived at his home that evening, Liam locked the door and made a
beeline to his bedroom. He was exhausted and more than ready to go to bed. He
had a meeting with the Smiths and their lawyers the next morning and he wasn't
looking forward to it. Liam took off his shoes and collapsed onto his single
bed, facedown in the pillow, thinking that this was the first birthday he was
spending away from Sophia in over five years. Despite having been married to
her for five years, he didn't miss her at all. It was freeing to be away from
that house, a place he now realised had never actually been a home to him.
The end of their marriage had been quick. Four and half months ago, he'd taken
Zayn to that rundown hotel and they had almost kissed. After dropping Zayn off,
he had driven home in a fugue state, not sure what he would say when he arrived
home. He parked his Aston Martin in the garage and let himself in. He had
barely walked into the house when he heard Sophia call out his name. She had
been seated in the living room, dressed in red negligee, her dark hair loose on
her shoulders.
“Where were you?” she had asked him when he stepped into the living room.
“Out.”
“That's not a real answer.”
Liam had sat down on the sofa and regarded her warily. “I needed to think.”
“You knew I was ovulating today. We were supposed to try for a baby.” She
sighed. “I'm really not in the mood, but we can still have a go at it.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don't want to have sex with you. I don't want a baby. And-” Liam gritted his
teeth. “I don't want to be married to you.”
Sophia furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I want a divorce.”
“Since when?”
“Since forever.” Liam roughed a hand over his face, feeling the nine o'clock
shadow on his cheeks and chin. “I've stayed in this marriage because it was
convenient to be here, but it's not right. I'm not who you think I am.”
Sophia stood up and headed towards the door. She paused. “I'm not sure if
you're drunk or high, but let's pretend that this little conversation didn't
happen. Go sleep it off in one of the guestrooms.” She sauntered upstairs. Liam
sat back on the couch, evaluating his options.
He had the salary from McEllan saved in his own bank account. According to the
pre-nup, that money was his. Everything else, including the house, the cars,
and probably the clothes on his back belonged to Sophia. He took off his Rolex
and placed it on the table. Next was his gold wedding band.
He went to the study and booted up his private laptop before deleting all his
files on Zayn and formatting the hard drive, pocketing the secret cellphone.
There was nothing in the main bedroom that he could take with him right now,
nothing that he had brought with him into the marriage except his national ID
card, driver’s license, a family photo album, and a few other items. He'd
collect them another time.
He pulled out his cell phone and typed out an email.
Hello Sophia,
 I know that this might be sudden for you, but I have been unhappy for a long
time. Staying in this marriage is not good for either of us. 
Kind Regards,
Liam
He sent the email to her work address, knowing that she would check her emails
in the morning. Next, he requested an Uber cab and sat in the living room
waiting for it.
Half an hour passed and the vehicle arrived, depositing him at a local Bed and
Breakfast where he checked in. He climbed into bed and realised he was too
wound up to sleep. He had sat at the small table desk at the corner of the room
and picked up the complimentary pen, holding it in his hand as he stared at the
pad of paper in front of him.
After a while he found himself writing. God, grant me the serenity to accept
the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the
wisdom to know the difference. It was the sticker Niall's father had had on his
fridge. He'd seen it a few times when he'd gone next door to hang out with
Niall during that summer, years ago. He remembered reading the words and
recognising them as a prayer. He would only learn years later that it was an
Alcoholics Anonymous prayer.
Liam wasn't the praying type and neither was he one for navel-gazing, but he
knew he couldn't go on the way he had. He didn't want to wake up at fifty years
of age, realising that he had destroyed the lives of people around him. He
didn't want to be George Corrigan, alone and dying, no family in sight. In the
rush to better himself financially, Liam had married Sophia and in the process
had driven his family away. But his ill-advised marriage was the least of his
sins.
There were the boys. Niall. Harry. Louis. And now, Zayn. He hadn't been fair to
any of them, especially Louis, who still hung around out of misplaced loyalty
or, perhaps, love. There was Harry, the boy he had tried to seduce and failed
miserably at it. And before all of them, Niall. Had Niall even wanted to sleep
with him or had Liam coerced him into it? He couldn't be sure. He didn't trust
his own memory anymore.
He needed to change before he lost himself forever. But how? And most
importantly, could he? He wanted to let Zayn grow into a man without any
interference from him. He wanted Louis to find happiness and stop working dead
end jobs. He wanted to look up Harry and ask him to forgive him for what he
tried to do. He wanted to see what Niall looked like these days. Liam could
change. He knew he could.
But he couldn't ignore the past. He wrote a list.
1. Find Harry - apologise to him.
2. Divorce Sophia.
3. Stay away from Zayn.
4. Louis
 
He stopped writing. Louis had been so much to him for so long, he couldn’t
contemplate living his life without him. The sex had to stop. Louis didn't
deserve to be strung around like that. Liam picked up the pen.
4. Louis – let him go.
5. Look up Niall and find out if he's happy.
6. Visit Mum and Dad and apologise for being so distant these last few years.
That would do it. It wasn't much, but at least he had a plan of sorts to guide
himself. The next few months weren't going to be easy and he had a feeling that
Sophia wasn't going to let him go without a fight. That was one hurdle he was
willing to jump for his freedom.
After a long while, Liam had found himself yawning. He took the pad and placed
it into his, then he crawled into the covers of the bed and fell asleep.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam yanked himself to the present and rolled onto his back, staring up at the
dark ceiling. If Head Master Dunne hadn't approved his application for teachers
housing on the McEllan campus, he really didn't know where he would have ended
up. It was fortuitous that he still had his job and the nicely sized cheque
that came with it. He knew Stephen Smith had thrown his weight around trying to
get Liam fired, but Liam's track record at the school was good and with the end
of the school term nearing, finding a replacement for him would have been
difficult.
Nonetheless, Liam had spent the next couple of weeks expecting a pink slip to
arrive in his inbox, but it never did. He had stayed at a local B&B for a
while, using the local busses to commute to the school. He had sent an email to
the school informing them of his separation from Sophia and that his surname
would revert to Payne. When he’d told Alice about his change of circumstance,
she had mentioned that a teacher’s house on the McEllan school grounds had
become available. It was a single bedroom, single bathroom place with a small
kitchenette, hardly what he was used to, but-
Liam had hugged her and said he was interested in the place. Alice’s cheeks had
flushed pink and she said she would send him the application forms. A week
later, his application for the teacher’s house was approved and he had moved
in. That had been over four months ago and he had grown used to his little
place.
The first knock he heard on his front door was so soft he thought he had
imagined it. Who would visit him so late in the evening? But he heard it again,
a soft rasp of knuckles on wood. Liam rolled on his stomach. He really was
tired and he had to be in good shape to meet the panel of lawyers that the
Smiths would no doubt have hired to screw him over - not that he wanted
anything from Sophia. He had made that part explicit to her, but nonetheless,
they were excavating to see if he could be charged with damages or whatever
fancy term they called it.
He just wanted the marriage to be over and to finally have his freedom back. He
heard another knock so he pulled on his shoes and walked out the bedroom, down
the hall, and to the living room. He opened the door to find Zayn at his
doorstep, dressed in his school uniform, a bakery box nestled in his hands.
“Zayn.” Liam blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What are you doing
out so late?”
Zayn held out the box to Liam sheepishly. “I heard it was your birthday and I
know it’s your first since your-”
“You can’t be here. Students aren’t allowed in a teacher’s residence.” Liam
looked out the front door, making sure that no one was around before letting
Zayn in. “We could both get into trouble for this.”
Liam locked his front door and turned to find Zayn standing awkwardly in the
middle of his living room, the box clutched in his hands. Liam walked towards
him and took the cake box, lifting the lid to find a gourmet chocolate cake
with the letters ‘Happy Birthday L” inscribed in frosting.
“I didn’t want to write out your full name in case,” Zayn shrugged. In case
someone saw it and they would wonder why Zayn was buying a teacher a birthday
cake.
Liam felt his throat tighten. “I think I have candles somewhere in the
kitchen.”
Liam left the living room to rummage in the kitchen drawers, trying to find a
birthday candle. He paused, leaning on the kitchen counter to take deep
breaths. For a month after that night in the hotel room, he and Zayn had
carefully avoided one another outside of Liam’s class. It hadn’t been easy when
he took the year 1os, seeing Zayn looking so glum with dark circles under his
eyes like he wasn’t sleeping enough.
The lean muscles Zayn had grown during their sparring sessions began to waste
away as Zayn lost weight. All throughout, Liam had wanted to call the Nokia
just to check if Zayn kept the phone on. He wanted to be around him outside of
class and just hang out, but he knew the drill and if he was to continue
teaching, he couldn’t let anything inappropriate occur between Zayn and
himself.
All those months back, he had watched Zayn fade away. Then the end of school
year arrived and the parents of the boarding students had descended on the
campus to collect their children. Liam had been one of the teachers
facilitating the end of the year pick-ups and he’d seen the Maliks arrive in a
black Mercedes.
He had felt strange seeing them after all of the hours he had spent wondering
what they looked like. They weren’t the evil trolls he had imagined. Mrs Malik,
a kindly looking woman, had run out of her car as soon as it parked and pulled
Zayn into a hug before peppering his face with light kisses.
From his spot at the Webber House entrance, Liam had heard Zayn protest that
his mum had left red lipstick on his face and she had giggled girlishly while
she dabbed it away. Zayn’s father had walked up to his son and given him a
handshake before taking one of the suitcases Zayn had been carrying. The last
image Liam had of Zayn for three months was Zayn walking away, arm in arm with
his mother, while his proud father looked on.
Summer ended and the new school year began. Liam didn't see Zayn until the
second to last lesson of that first day. He realised that was the longest he
had been away from Zayn since he had known him and not a single day had passed
without him thinking about Zayn.
The bell had rung and he heard the shuffle of students walking in the hall. He
would have his Year 11 class next - Zayn's class. And for the first time in
three months he would see Zayn. The first student who walked into his class was
Ford, over-tanned and smiling, throwing a too loud, “Hello, Mr Smith-Payne,” at
Liam when he walked in. His American accent seemed thicker, vowels high
pitched. Liam nodded his hello, rising from his chair to come around his desk
and sit on the edge, crossing his arms as he watched the students walk in.
The first glimpse he saw of Zayn was in profile. His long lashes fluttered down
as a hint of a smile played on his lips. Zayn was talking to Spencer, walking
side by side with her as they entered the classroom, not even throwing so much
as a glance at Liam's direction.
Zayn looked different from the last time Liam had seen him. His hair was long,
definitely testing the lengths of McEllan school rules. He skin was a deep
caramel, as if he’d spent the break languishing in the sun. He had also
returned to his normal weight. Liam dragged his eyes away from Zayn and
commenced the lesson.
“Hello, I trust you've had a great summer. I'd like to officially welcome you
to the new school year. If you work hard and stay focused, this year will
breeze by.” Liam stood up from his desk and walked to the blackboard. “Here's
what we'll be covering in the next few weeks so please take notes. Another
thing - I’ll now be going by Mr Payne.”
That had been a few weeks back. He and Zayn had continued their dance of
avoidance - until now. When he returned to his living room, he would be alone
with Zayn. Shit. He should thank Zayn for the cake and ask him to leave. That
was the right thing to do.
Liam found a birthday candle and his old lighter. He thought for a second and
grabbed two serviettes and a knife. When he walked back to the living room, he
found Zayn sitting on the couch. Liam placed the cake on the coffee table and
slotted the candle into the cake and lit it. He sat on the chair beside the
sofa.
“How was your day?” Zayn asked.
Liam thought about his visit to Harry. “Productive.”
“Are you going to make a wish?” Zayn asked. Liam nodded and closed his eyes,
blowing out the candle. He cut the cake and offered Zayn a slice wrapped in a
serviette.
“Sorry, I don’t have any saucers,” Liam explained.
He was lucky this place was furnished otherwise he would have racked up quite
the bill purchasing furniture. He had been living at the lap of luxury for the
past five years and he found that he missed it. He missed his Ralph Lauren
suits and his Prada jackets. He missed waking up in the morning, breakfast
already made. He missed being able to walk into a department store and purchase
anything without worrying about the bill, yet he wouldn’t ever go back. He
might have had everything on paper, but he had been lost.
“I don’t mind the lack of saucers.” Zayn lifted a slice and bit into it.
“It’s delicious. Thanks for buying it for me. It was very considerate of you.”
Liam finished his slice of cake and stood up, preparing to lead Zayn out of the
house. When Zayn finished eating, he got to his feet and stood beside Liam.
Zayn had gotten taller since the last time they had stood this close to each
other. He was almost Liam’s height.
“You should-” Liam’s words were cut off as Zayn closed the space between them
and he leaned in, kissing Liam.
Zayn’s lips were soft, pressed gently against his. Liam’s eyes fluttered shut
and he heard his own heartbeat in his ears. Zayn placed warm hands on either
side of Liam’s face, pressing their mouths tighter together. Liam parted his
lips, meaning to protest. Zayn used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside
Liam’s mouth, running it against Liam’s before he ended the kiss. When Liam
opened his eyes, he found Zayn staring at him, a curious expression on his
face.
“I want you to teach me to kiss,” Zayn whispered. He ran his hands through
Liam’s hair before leaning close.
Liam pulled back. “Zayn.”
“Please.”
Zayn’s fingers linked at the back of Liam’s neck and Liam allowed himself to be
pulled into another kiss. Liam knew he should stop things from escalating and
move away, but he didn’t. Liam opened his mouth to Zayn, once more allowing him
to enter. This time Liam dared to slide his tongue alongside Zayn's, wrapping
his hands around Zayn's waist, drawing Zayn against his own body until they
were flush against one another. The situation was spiralling out of control
fast and if he didn't collect his thoughts and push Zayn away, they would end
up in bed.
Liam released Zayn's waist and placed his hands on Zayn's shoulders before
pushing him away. He opened his eyes to find Zayn staring at him with a hurt
expression.
“Zayn, we can't do this- I can’t do this.” He needed to stay away from Zayn.
“You left your wife the same week you took me to that hotel.” Zayn closed the
space between their bodies, his face earnest. “You can't tell me that's a
coincidence.”
Liam found his hand rising to graze Zayn's left cheek. This would have been so
easy if he was the same person he had been five months ago, but Liam had
changed.
“Kiss me.” Zayn leaned his cheek against Liam's hand and parted his lips. They
were red and wet and Liam wanted to lean down and taste them. Kissing wasn't
the worst thing that could happen between them. Teenage boys did far worse
things. Zayn wanted Liam to teach him to kiss and if Liam didn't, who would he
go to learn? One of the other students at McEllan? The idea made Liam's right
hand curl into a fist.
He moved his hand from Zayn's cheek down to his mouth, running his thumb across
Zayn's bottom lip, half-hypnotized by the motion. Zayn's tongue darted out and
licked Liam's thumb before drawing it into his mouth and sucking on it. Liam
felt as if his knees would give out and he would fall onto the floor.
“If we do this, there have to be rules.” Liam pulled his thumb out of Zayn's
mouth.
“Yes?”
“Take off your school tie.” Liam watched as Zayn quickly pulled his tie off and
handed it to Liam, who placed it on the floor. “That is the line. We are going
to stand on either side of it the entire time we're kissing. We are not allowed
to move beyond it.”
Zayn looked confused, his eyebrows creasing. “But- how am I supposed to touch
you?”
“Our mouths will be the only point of contact between our bodies.” Liam bent
down and straightened the tie, making it run ruler-straight - a border between
their bodies. “If you move across the line, I will stop this 'lesson'
immediately.”
“Got it.” Zayn moved to the other side of the tie, his feet just millimetres
from where it ended. Liam stayed on his side of the tie.
“You want me to teach you how to kiss?” Liam asked as he folded up the sleeves
of his shirt.
“Yes.” Zayn’s eyes followed the movement of Liam's hands.
“You don't kiss like a beginner.”
“I had some practice over the summer,” Zayn said. Liam felt jealousy, lava hot,
blister his gut. He imagined anonymous, faceless boys and girls kissing Zayn,
touching him the way Liam had been earlier.
“Open your mouth,” Liam said. Zayn immediately closed his eyes and parted his
lips. Liam felt his dick stiffen as he watched Zayn. “Stick out your tongue.”
Zayn did as asked. Liam leaned his face close to Zayn and sucked Zayn's tongue
into his mouth, sliding down until their lips met. He massaged their tongues
together before moving to nibble on Zayn's lip. Then he pulled away.
“How was that?”
“Brilliant.” Zayn's eyes open. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were
unfocused. His arms were pressed to his side as if he was trying to keep
himself still. “Can we do that again?”
“Yes.” Liam kissed him, exploring Zayn's mouth with his tongue, finding all the
crevices that still tasted like the chocolate cake they ate earlier and licking
them. Zayn grew bold, pressing his chest against Liam's, and when Liam didn't
stop kissing him, he pressed his groin against Liam.
Liam could feel the outline of Zayn's erection and warning bells resounded in
his head. Liam canted his own hips to the side, but Zayn’s hips followed after
him. They were both out of breath, exhaling hard as they kissed. Liam felt as
if he was running a marathon and his lungs burned as he forgot to breathe. He
didn't need air - he just wanted Zayn’s lips against his own. Zayn pressed his
groin harder against Liam's.
“May I?” Zayn panted wetly against Liam's mouth.
Liam rested his forehead against Zayn's. He had no neighbours, but he found
himself whispering as though he was afraid someone would overhear them.
“May you what?”
“Touch you?”
“It's against the rules.”
“But I need to. Please.” Zayn kissed him.
“Zayn,” Liam warned when the kiss ended. He reached for Zayn's hands with his
own and placed them on his own chest, squeezing Zayn’s fingers.
“Your heart’s beating so fast.” Zayn flattened his palms against Liam's chest.
That's because Liam was terrified and so turned on he could barely stand it.
Liam kept his eyes shut. He felt Zayn's warm palms as they moved up to his
throat.
“I like your stubble.” Zayn leaned in and rubbed his face against Liam's
throat. “It feels good. Prickly. It suits you.” Zayn brushed his face against
the other side of Liam's cheek. “You were always shaved, before the divorce.”
Liam didn't correct Zayn by saying that, technically, he was separated from
Sophia, thanks to the gazillion lawyers that the Smith cabal had hired.
“Sophia liked me cleanly shaven.” Liam shivered when he felt Zayn's lips
against his throat. Zayn’s hands were wandering again, his fingers easing into
the front of Liam's shirt.
“May I unbutton your shirt?” Zayn asked, his fingers no longer moving.
“Yes.” God help him. Fucking yes.
“I've thought about doing this a lot.” Zayn unbuttoned the shirt. Liam
continued to keep his eyes closed as he felt the material of his shirt fall
away. “You would be standing in front of the class wearing that ugly tweed
jersey and I'd imagine taking it off.” Zayn undid the last button and pushed
Liam's shirt off his shoulder, then Liam felt a hand pressed on to his chest.
“You've got chest hair.”
“Yes.” Liam felt Zayn’s fingers run cross the span of his chest, then they were
gone, only to be replaced by hot lips. Liam’s cock throbbed in his trousers as
Zayn licked at his chest.
“Your skin tastes salty,” Zayn whispered.
He found Liam's lips and kissed him, his hands moving behind Liam's back, down
to grip Liam’s arse as Zayn urged their groins together. Involuntarily, Liam's
hands slid around Zayn's hips, aligning their erections, and grinding them
hard. Zayn stilled, then he shuddered and tried to move away. Liam immediately
released him.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.” Liam opened his eyes. Zayn was standing with his
own hands covering his crotch. Liam was about to ask what was the matter until
he saw the growing wet spot on Zayn's school trousers. Zayn had come in his
pants.
“I just-” Zayn wouldn't meet Liam's eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”
“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about,” Liam said. Zayn was only fifteen.
He wasn’t supposed to have any stamina.
“When I felt your-” Zayn flushed. “Dick. You were hard. Because of me. And it
was so-” Zayn pressed his hands firmly against his own groin.
“I'm still hard.” Liam gestured to his groin where his erection tented his
slacks. It looked almost comical. He was thinking about going to Zayn and
removing Zayn’s hands away from his crotch, dropping to his knees and licking
at the damp spot on Zayn’s trousers-
There was a loud knock on the door.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Liam and Zayn both jumped apart, guilty eyes meeting. Zayn raised an eyebrow at
Liam and mouthed, “Who is it?”
 Liam shrugged. Whoever it was knocked again, more insistently this time
around, and it spurred Liam into action. He reached for Zayn's arm and
whispered, “Go to my bedroom and wait there. It's the third room down the
corridor.”
Zayn nodded and sprinted out of the room. Liam picked up his shirt and quickly
buttoned it. He missed a button and had to redo the last five. He looked down
at himself, his hard-on obvious, tenting his trousers. He pulled his shirt down
and ran a hand through his hair, combing his hair into place with his fingers.
He hoped his face wasn't too flushed. He took a deep breath and walked to the
front door. He opened it. On the other side, looking a bit awkward, was Alice.
“Hello, Liam,” she said.
“Alice.” He gaped at her momentarily before he remembered his manners. “Please
come in.”
“Thanks.” She walked into his living room and took a seat at his couch. “I see
that you've been celebrating.” She gestured to the cake on his coffee table.
“Do you want some?” Liam asked.
“I wouldn't say no.”
Liam went to the kitchen to fetch a fresh serviette. He checked out his
reflection on the mirrored surface of a pan. His cheeks were red and his mouth
was slightly swollen. He brushed his hair again and damped one serviette and
pressed it to his face. At least his dick had softened. He wiped his face and
returned to the living room, proceeding to cut a slice of cake for Alice. He
handed it to her in a serviette. She took a bite.
“Heaven.” She took another. “Pure heaven. Where did you purchase it?”
“It was a gift.”
“Ms. Shapiro? She knows all the best places.” She wiped the corner of her
mouth. “Happy birthday, by the way. I know you're going through a divorce and I
didn't like the idea of you spending your birthday alone.”
“Yeah, it's been tough. Sophia and I have been married for over five years,”
Liam said. “Had been.”
Alice nodded, her face shrouded in sympathy. “I just want you to know that if
you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you.”
“Thanks, Alice.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She flushed and
looked down at her slice of cake.
“Your divorce, it's not because-” She sighed. “I don't want to be presumptuous,
but did your marriage end because of us?”
“Us?” Liam echoed.
“Our kiss. Back in Finland. This thing between us. Did Sophia find out?” Alice
stole a glance at Liam before looking away.
“It was a combination of things.” Liam let go of her hand. “We had been trying
for a baby and it wasn't working out. I guess a part of me didn't want to be a
father yet.”
“Oh.” Alice nibbled at her cake.
“I'm not ready to jump into something new,” Liam said.
“I figured. You can't blame a girl for trying.” Alice smiled sheepishly. She
glanced around his living room. “How are you finding the place?”
“It's fantastic. I certainly can't say I miss the traffic getting to school in
the morning. I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“If you're enjoying living here, then it’s more than enough reward for me.”
Alice finished the last of the cake. “I need to get going - it is a school
night after all.” She stood up.
“Yes, that's true.” Liam got to his feet.
“What's that?” She walked to the spot he and Zayn had been standing earlier and
Liam's stomach dropped. Zayn's school tie. He hadn't picked it up. Alice leaned
down, retrieving the tie and holding it up. “A school tie? How did it get
here?”
“I picked it up in the corridor. I was planning on handing it over to Lost and
Found tomorrow morning,” Liam said.
“When my brothers attended Harrow, the house matrons sewed in their name on the
label of their school uniform because things always got lost during laundry.”
Alice unfolded the ties label and read. Liam felt the knot in his stomach grow
bigger. How the bloody hell had he forgotten to pick up Zayn's tie? “Hmmm, ZAP.
Any ideas?”
Liam shrugged. “None whatsoever.” He reached for the tie. “Let Lost and Found
do the detective work.”
“Sure.” Alice handed over Zayn's tie and walked to the front door. “I'm really
glad that you're taking the divorce in your stride.” She leaned closed and
kissed him on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Liam,” she whispered in his ear
before pulling away.
“Thanks, Alice.” He opened the door and she walked out, waving goodbye to him.
He watched her go before he closed the door and went to his bedroom with Zayn's
tie in hand. He stopped outside the door, drawing in a deep breath before he
opened it. Zayn was seated on the edge of Liam's bed, his shoulders hunched
forward. He looked up when Liam walked into the room. Liam sat down beside him.
“Hi.” Liam nudged his shoulders against Zayn’s.
“Hi,” Zayn said shyly. Liam handed the tie to Zayn and he watched Zayn put it
on, working the Windsor knot like a seasoned expert before drawing it tight. “I
guess I should leave.” There was a questioning tone to his voice.
“Yes, you should,” Liam replied. “It's almost 11PM. If your House Master finds
you missing, you'll be in trouble.”
“I guess.” Zayn bowed his head before looking up coyly at Liam. “I really
enjoyed kissing you.”
Liam glanced at Zayn's lips before he looked away, remembering how sweet Zayn’s
mouth had tasted. They had narrowly escaped being discovered by Alice. Liam
hadn’t been thinking clearly earlier, his body too overwhelmed with treacherous
desire to realise what he was doing. They were on school grounds and Zayn was
still very much underage. There was so much more at stake than Liam getting
fired - he could go to jail if someone found out. There was also that pesky
thing he’d discovered these last few months; his conscience.
“We can't, not ever again,” Liam said. “You're underage and I'm your teacher.”
“If I wasn’t fifteen and you weren’t my teacher, would you sleep with me?” Zayn
asked.
Liam remained silent.
“You’re not saying no,” Zayn observed.
“I didn’t say yes either.”
“One day you’ll run out of excuses.” Zayn stood up and left Liam’s bedroom.
Liam collapsed back onto the bed. Zayn Malik was going to be the death of him.
                                  *** *** ***
The divorce deposition was being held in the Smith & Son offices in the centre
of London. Liam didn't have a car anymore so commuting to the city was a
mission. Having had his own mode of transport for the past five years, he had
forgotten the pure misery of waiting for a bus at the bus station; of rushing
to the tube, getting squashed by other commuters.
By the time he arrived at the Smith & Son offices, his shirt was wrinkled and
his shoes had streaks of mud. His hair was windswept and dishevelled after
walking the rest of the two blocks. He didn't have to glance at his Casio
wristwatch to know that he was late.
In the building’s foyer, he signed the visitor’s book and a bored looking
receptionist handed him a visitor’s sticker. He slapped it onto his shirt,
forwent the lift, and ran up the stairs. His newly discovered love for cross
country running came to his aid and he was barely out of breath when he reached
the fourth floor. He buzzed in at the office's entrance and announced himself
to the Smith & Son receptionist.
“I'm Liam Smith, um, Liam Payne.” Liam tucked the tail of his shirt into his
trousers and brushed back his hair with one hand. “I have a meeting with
Stephen and Sophia Smith.” The receptionist, a vaguely familiar looking
brunette, did a double-take. She recognised him from when he had worked in the
office as an executive.
“The meeting is in the Blue Boardroom.” She gave him an up and down look to
Liam's general appearance. “It's the first door on your right.”
Liam quickly walked in the direction she had mentioned. Through the frosted
glass of the boardroom office, he could see the silhouettes of five people
inside. He rapped his knuckles on the door and let himself in. Upon hearing the
door being opened, five heads swivelled around to look at him. As expected,
there was Sophia and Stephen, seated at the far end.
 Sophia had her hair pulled in a severe bun and wore a black formfitting dress
with a heavily shoulder-padded black blazer. Her lips were painted a vermillion
shade of red. Next to her was Stephen Smith, looking the angriest Liam had ever
seen him. Opposite Sophia and Stephen were two white-haired men, who looked
like they had just walked off the legal quarter of Fleet Street; divorce
solicitors by the crisp look of them.
The fifth person, seated curiously at the head of the table, was an unknown
entity. He was black. In his thirties, he was cleanly shaven and dressed in a
pristine business suit, but he didn't carry himself like a lawyer. There was
something watchful and alert about him. His dark eyes analysed everything they
saw, missing nothing.
“Sorry I'm late.” Liam closed the door and sat at the end of the table, as far
away as he could from the group.
“I would not expect anything less from you, Liam,” Stephen Smith said. “I've
had enough of my time wasted, so let us begin.”
One of the white-haired men spoke. “My colleague and I have examined the terms
of the pre-nuptial agreement that Liam and Sophia signed.” The man turned a
page, his spectacles perched on his hook nose. “Liam has opted to waiver any
claims he has to the assets that he and Sophia jointly or separately own.” The
man removed his spectacles.
“That means the divorce can go through?” Liam asked.
The second white-haired man said, “Would you not prefer to have council
present?”
Liam couldn't afford council. He had cleared out his savings buying new clothes
and moving into the house. The rest of his cash was being held in a fixed
deposit as he was trying to save for a car. He felt embarrassed to be taking
public transport, especially when he knew that most of his students could
afford to buy a dozen brand new cars at a whim.
“I'm representing myself,” Liam said.
Sophia released a huff of breath. “He can't afford a lawyer. Look at the state
of him. The gig is up. Come home, Liam.”
“Sophia, that house has never felt like a home to me.”
Her eyes glittered. “You don't mean that. I've played along with your stupid
game long enough.”
“This isn't a game. I don't want to be married to you.”
Stephen reached out a hand and patted Sophia's left arm. “You don't speak to
Sophia with that tone!” Stephen bellowed. “I took you off the streets, gave you
a high paying job, allowed you to marry my daughter, and this is how you repay
me?”
“I never intended to hurt Sophia. I just want this marriage to be over.”
One of the lawyers cleared his throat. It was the first one who had spoken.
“We’ve prepared a settlement proposal for you to review and counter.” He pushed
a stack of documents to Liam.
“Has Sophia signed the divorce petition?” Liam took the documents.
“No. It’s bloody obvious you’re leaving me to live with that blonde woman!”
“I'm not having an affair with Alice,” Liam said. He felt as if he was living
in a time loop. This was the third meeting with the divorce lawyers. He didn't
want any of Sophia's money, yet somehow they still managed to drag the process.
The man at the end of the table was watching the scene play out, his expression
inscrutable. “I just want to move on with my life.”
“Why should you?” Sophia spat out.
“Darling, sign the divorce petition. These fellows charge by the hour.” Stephen
glanced at his Rolex. “This session is costing me a fair amount of money.”
Sophia ignored her father. “I love you, Liam.”
“I don't think you know what love means.”
“And you do?”
“I'm starting to.”
“Mark my words, Liam. I'm never giving you a divorce. You think you can waste
the best years of my life and that I'll happily let you run off with that
albino harlot? You're going to pay!” She gave a nod to the man and pushed away
from the table, her chair screeching loudly. She stood up, she and the unnamed
man walked out.
The lawyers closed their books, looking at Stephen Smith. “We'll send you an
invoice.”
Liam sat back on his chair, sighing. He had known from the time he'd met Sophia
that this wasn't going to end well.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam took the train back to town and was waiting for a bus to McEllan Academy
when a white BMW pulled up in front of the bus stop. The windows of the motor
vehicle were dimmed and he couldn't make out who was inside. The BMW honked and
when he looked up, the windows were being slowly rolled down. On the passenger
side in front was an older man with greying hair. The man leaned back and Liam
saw Zayn sitting in the driver’s side.
“Do you need a lift back to campus, sir?” Zayn called out.
“The bus will be here shortly,” Liam said. He watched Zayn murmur something to
the older man and then the man was vacating the car. He climbed out of the
passenger side and held the door open for Liam, who reluctantly stood up from
the bench and climbed into the car. Liam expected the man to climb in the
backseat, but Liam was surprised when the man sat down on the bus bench.
“He's the driving instructor my parents hired,” Zayn explained. He eased the
car into drive and pulled off into the street. Liam put on his seatbelt when
the BMW’s warning light started beeping.
“Aren't you a bit too young to drive?” Liam asked.
“I've got a learners permit and can drive as long as I have an experienced
driver in the car with me.” The light up ahead turned orange and Zayn haltingly
came to a stop. “Technically I have to be fifteen years nine months old to
obtain a permit, but my father pulled some strings.”
Liam looked around the leather interior of the BMW. “Rather expensive car to be
used for driving lessons.”
“My dad collects vintage cars, so he won't miss this one if something happens
to it.” Zayn turned on the left indicator and waited to go. “Where are you
coming from?”
“London.”
“What's in London?”
“A lot of things.”
Zayn threw Liam a look. “Evasive much?”
“I had a meeting with Sophia, her dad, and the divorce solicitors. I'm trying
to get our divorce finalised,” Liam said.
“And how did it go?”
“Not well.”
“Why?”
“Enough with the twenty questions already.”
“Sorry, I just like hearing about you.” Zayn turned left and began heading to
McEllan at a slow pace of 24 miles per hour. “I could talk about me if that
would suit you better.” He glanced at Liam.
“Eyes on the road,” Liam said. “And the positioning of your hands on the
steering wheel is incorrect.” He reached out and adjusted Zayn's hands from
ten-past-two to quarter-past-three. “There, much better.”
“Thanks. What was I saying?”
“You want to talk about yourself and stop pestering me with questions.”
“Oh yes. I could tell you about my summer vacation. My dad had this tent pole
film come out and he spent most of the summer promoting it. My mum usually goes
with him, but she must have missed me or something because she stayed at home
for the first month with me.” Zayn turned left at the intersection and Liam
realised that he was taking the longer route to get to McEllan. This route
drove through the suburbs surrounding the school. Liam hardly ever used it,
unless the main route was congested in the morning.
“We talked a bit and it’s the closest I've felt to her in ages. I guess Head
Master Dunne must have told her about the fight I got into two days before
school closed because she really wanted to hear about my life at McEllan. I
told her about it, but not everything because she'd feel bad, just the
important stuff. Like you.” Zayn smiled quickly at Liam before glancing back at
the quiet road ahead.
“What about me?” Liam asked.
“Just that you're the coolest teacher ever.”
Liam smiled at that. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I think she’ll probably want to meet you at the next teacher-parent
meeting.”
“What did you do for the rest of the summer?” Liam asked when Zayn went silent.
“She had to leave for work, so she left me with her cheque book as
compensation.  It was brilliant because I could buy whatever I wanted and go
wherever. I decided to visit Spencer in Leeds and we went out a few nights.”
Liam recalled the little titbit from the prior night about Zayn having had
practise kissing over the summer. “Was she the person you kissed?”
“No, she and I aren't like that. Remember that boyfriend I told you about?
Turned out it's a girl. Spencer’s a lesbian; which is ace and whatnot because I
could mention this older guy I fancied.” Zayn threw a cheeky grin at Liam.
“Eyes on the road.” Liam tried not to linger on Zayn's words.  
“She hooked me up with her brother's friend. He goes to Eton. We snogged a few
times. That's it,” Zayn said. Liam felt his stomach tighten. He wanted to be
happy that Zayn was discovering himself with boys his own age, but he didn't
like the idea of some rich snob slobbering all over him.
“Eton, huh?”
“Yeah. His dad is a Duke and his family’s tight with the Royals.”
“He couldn't have been that good a kisser if you still had to ask me to teach
you how to kiss.”
“He was all right. But it wasn't spectacular - not the way it was with you last
night. Do you feel like giving me another lesson?” Zayn asked.
“You know the answer to that.”
“What if I begged you to?”
“I'd still say no.”
“I could always get on my hands and knees.” 
And didn't that conjure up such lovely images in Liam's mind. He shook his head
and said through a dry mouth, “No.”
“When was the last time you had sex?” Zayn asked conversationally.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I'm not answering that.”
“You used to be different, before,” Zayn said. “Sometimes you'd look at me and
I’d get the feeling that-”
“You were reading too much into a look.”
“Why did you take me to that hotel that night?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“There a dozen other places where we could have talked.”
Liam crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the road ahead. They drove
passed the McEllan school sign and he found himself breathing a sigh of relief.
He needed to get out of this car. He steadfastly refused to look at Zayn.
“The silent treatment. Very mature.” Zayn hit the petrol pad and the BMW
lurched forward, picking up speed. 30mph. Then 50mph. 60mph. 70mph.
“Whoa, Zayn. Slow down!” Liam exclaimed. 80mph. 90mph. “You're driving too
fast.”
“Don't worry, I've got it.” Zayn swerved into the main entrance of the academy,
pulling to a stop right before the boom gate. He glanced at Liam, who had a
hand on the passenger door.
“You can drive.” Liam realised.
“Yes.”
“What was up with the learner driver act?”
“I like it when you go into teacher mode,” Zayn said. “And I still need to have
an experienced driver in the car with me. It’s a statutory requirement.”
Liam gritted his teeth and slowly removed the death grip he had on the
passenger door. The boom gate was lifted and Zayn sped into McEllan, the trees
and campus buildings blurring outside the car’s windows. He drove past Webber
House and its neighbours and took the third exit at the roundabout, heading to
the teacher's residences. He pulled the car into park outside Liam's house.
“Thanks for the lift,” Liam said. “Don't forget to pick up your driving
instructor at the bus stop.”
“Anytime you want a ride, let me know,” Zayn said.
Liam raised a brow at that. “Goodbye, Zayn.”
He climbed out the car and turned to watch Zayn wave before speeding off.
                                  *** *** ***
McEllan was holding an open day for prospective students. Liam was at the main
school hall assisting with the process. Living on campus had somehow made him
the default choice to guide lost parents to the correct venues and welcome wide
eyed students he wasn't at all glad to see. He was seated at a table which was
decked with the flyers of the many activities available at McEllan Academy.
He remembered that funding for the McEllan Exploration Society had been
withdrawn due to the unfortunate events of the prior year. He felt bad,
wondering which other clubs the students would join to obtain that
extracurricular credit. An image of Zayn came to his mind and he shoved it away
by force of habit. He didn't think about Zayn. Outside of class, he didn't look
at Zayn. It was how it was supposed to be.
He was considering taking a quick walk to the bathroom when he heard a voice
screech, "Liam, darling!"
He winced and looked up. Jackie Lloyd-Green was standing over him. She wore a
large mink coat and was theatrically taking off her gloves, fake lashes
fluttering.
"I brought my cousin to the open day and I suddenly recalled that you teach at
McEllan and I knew I absolutely had to find you." She held her arms open.
"Jackie, hello," Liam stood up and hugged her. She rubbed his back, Chanel No.5
assaulting his senses.
"I heard about you and Sophia." The patting morphed into a caress. Liam
carefully extracted himself from her arms.
"Yes, we separated."
"Such dreadful news." She pouted exaggeratedly. "How are you holding up?"
"I take each day as it comes."
"Poor, poor, baby." She reached a hand, rubbing his left shoulder. "If there is
anything, and I do mean anythingI can do for you, call me. Planning a great
party isn’t the only thing I’m great at."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Gotta go.Ciao!" She kissed both his cheeks modelled away, her high heels
clinking on the corridor. Liam decided this was a good time as any to take a
break and he headed to the loo.
                                  *** *** ***
On Friday morning, Liam was in the middle of a lesson when the school intercom
buzzed. He heard Miss Ackerman's voice clearly state that Head Master Dunne was
seeking an audience with him.
“The Head Master is calling.” Liam smiled, playing it cool. One of the boys
whistled. “If I don't return before the bell rings, can one of you please lock
my classroom and hand the key to Miss Ackerman?”
He logged out of his laptop and walked out of the class. He felt nervous and
his mind was rushing through all the scenarios that could have left to him
being summoned to the Head Master's office. The first thought was that someone
had seen Zayn leaving his house the other night and he was going to be
interrogated about the nature of his and Zayn's relationship.
The other thought was that maybe someone had figured out that he was the one
that had tampered with Max's sled. He knew the Laaksonens were upset by the
incident and were worried that they would lose business from other public
schools. The last he had heard, they had given an interview with local Finnish
press, stating that they believe they were victims of sabotage. They were
offering a very large amount to anyone who would give them any leads on the
matter.
Liam turned a corner and felt his skin prickle when he saw a familiar shape
limping down the passage. Mad Max himself. The first time Liam had seen him
after his return to McEllan had been two weeks before the end of the previous
school year. Max had been on crutches, shuffling awkwardly into Liam's class.
Liam had felt a hot rage overcome him as he imagined Max pulling Zayn into the
bathroom and ordering Zayn to give him a handjob.
It had taken everything to maintain his composure and resume the lesson. Over
the next couple of weeks, he'd started jogging around campus, staying close to
Max's house, making sure that the boy didn't find an opportunity to mess with
Zayn. Two days before the end of the school year, despite his best efforts,
Liam had received a frantic call from Margaret one afternoon. Zayn had been
brought into her office, his nose bloody and his fists bruised. He had been in
a fight.
Liam had sat up in his chair. “How is he?”
“Luckily nothing has been broken.” He heard her talking to someone. “He says
that I must tell you that he handled things just like you taught him.”
Liam thought about walking to Webber House. “Is he truly all right?”
“He was laughing earlier. It's just the blood that startled me.” Margaret’s
tone went grave. “I'm afraid I'll have to file an incident report. There were
witnesses.”
“I understand, Marge.”
“I'll send you an email to let you know what happens.” She hung up.
The next day Liam had found out that Max and Zayn got into a fight after
school. Students heard a scuffle in the courtyard and found Max and Zayn
throwing punches at one another. Patricia Belcher had been walking past and she
pulled the two apart. Zayn had been sent to Webber House to be treated for his
minor injuries. Max had re-injured his broken leg and he was driven to the
hospital by Mrs Belcher.
Fortunately a witness came out and testified that Max had started the fight and
Zayn had been merely defending himself. With the school year almost over, Head
Master Dunne had merely let Zayn off with a warning letter. Two days later the
school year had ended.
Liam hadn't seen much of Max. The Year 12 class the boy was in didn't take
Liam’s class. Thank God for small favours. Liam watched as Max hobbled down the
corridor. When Max saw Liam he stopped walking, plastering a fake smile on his
lips.
“Mr Smith-Payne,” the little bastard said. “Oh, shit, I forgot. That hot wife
of yours dumped you. So it's just plain Payne now.”
“Maximilian, shouldn't you be in class?” Liam asked.
Max shrugged. “I just finished chatting to dear old Tim.” When he saw the blank
look on Liam's face, he clarified. “Head Master Timothy Dunne. He and my father
are really good mates.” Max grinned cockily, too white teeth flashing. “After
your lad Zayn pulled that ninja shit on me, I've been biding my time, waiting
to get a little payback and the day has finally arrived. Tim's waiting for
you.” He laughed and walked away. He shouted over his shoulder. “Nice suit, by
the way. Where did you get it? The Salvation Army?”
Liam's fingers curled into a fist, watching as Max limped down the hall. Liam
took great pleasure knowing he had ended that little posh twat's rugby career,
but somehow that still didn't feel like it was enough. Liam turned, heading
toward the admin building, the sick knot in his stomach growing bigger as he
wondered what Head Master Dunne had to say to him. When he knocked on Miss
Ackerman's door and she looked at him, he could have sworn he saw doom in her
eyes.
“Head straight through,” she said. He walked to Head Master Dunne's office and
knocked once, then twice.
“Come in,” he heard Head Master Dunne shout. Liam walked into the office and
found a blond boy seated in the office with Head Master Dunne. “Take a seat, Mr
Payne.” Liam sank down into a chair, swallowing nervously.
“This is Austin.” Head Master addressed the boy. “Tell Mr Payne what you told
me.”
The boy stared down at his hands. “I board in Webber House. Last year, someone
said that one of the boys in the house had been getting out after the House
Master did his rounds because the House Matron gave him permission to take a
lie down in her office or whatever. One night I saw the boy, Zayn, leaving the
house. I followed after him and I saw him get into his,” the boy jutted his
head at Liam, “car every Thursday night. He would park his car and Zayn would
go off with him.”
Liam realised he had not been breathing for a solid minute. He took a long draw
of air, filling his lungs to capacity. Head Master Dunne was leering over the
frames of his glasses at Liam.
“You are free to leave, Austin,” Dunne said.  The boy stood up as quickly as
his skinny legs would allow him and exited the office. The door snapped shut
behind him.
“I would ask you to explain yourself, but I've already had a dialogue with the
House Matron in question and she's told me all about you training the Malik boy
to box.” Dunne sighed and looked down at the pile of pages he had on his desk.
“Max was in my office earlier. He’s the one who brought Austin in and attests
he’s the target of these unsanctioned lessons. Normally something like this
would result in an automatic termination of your employment contract. But-”
Dunne stood and walked to a cabinet in the corner of his room. “I understand
why you’ve done what you have done.” He pulled out a file. “How much do you
know about Zayn's situation?”
“A great deal.” Liam watched as Dunne took files out and sat down at his table.
“Does the name George Corrigan sound familiar?”
“Yes,” Liam spoke through too dry lips. “I know that he found Zayn after Zayn
had swallowed down his bottle of antidepressants. A few years later you forced
him to retire.”
“You must think I'm a terrible man.” Dunne paged through the file.
“I’m reserving to pass judgment.”
“Everything I have done has been for this school.”
Dunne found what he was looking for and turned the page to Liam, who looked
down. It was an old photo of a young boy dressed in the McEllan uniform,
standing in front of the school.
“That's me a good several decades ago. As hard as it is to conceive, I was once
a child too. This institute raised me from age eight to eighteen. Twelve years
later, I returned to teach.” He turned the file around. “I know what it means
to be in Zayn's situation. I failed him four years ago. The school was in
serious need of funds and if a scandal of that nature caught speed, we would
have had to close our doors. I know that doesn't justify my actions. At the
time, I ensured that Zayn received counselling from a top psychiatrist, but my
hands were tied. That was all I could do.”
Dunne sighed and continued speaking. “As I said, I understand why you've done
what you've done. If I was less of a coward, I would have dug out the rot in
this school years ago. Which leads me to this; I'm going to let this go. It
won't be easy. The Grant-Whitfields are not reasonable people. They have
donated generously to the school in the past and have certain expectations. If
there's another incident between Zayn and Max, one of them will be expelled and
we both know who it will be.” He gave Liam a hard look. “No more boxing
lessons. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Since there are witnesses to the incident, some action must be taken.”
“What do you mean?”
“Margaret Mundy has, by allowing a student to leave the house in the evening,
gone against school policy.” Head Master Dunne pushed his glasses up his nose
with his index finger. “I’m afraid I have to terminate her contract with
immediate effect.”
“You can’t! Marge is not at fault,” Liam said. “I’m the one who asked her to
let Zayn leave the house. He’s been under her care since he was eight and this
will devastate him.”
“Your ex-father-in-law has promised to pay me a great deal of money to fire
you. The only reason you’re not getting axed is because I’ve grown tired of
handing out favours to Stephen Smith. Do not make me rethink my position on the
matter or you’ll be joining Ms. Mundy in the unemployment line.” Dunne’s tone
was final. This was not up for discussion. “You may return to class.”
Dunne couldn’t do this. Margaret Mundy was the one constant in Zayn’s life. She
had acted out of concern and now she was going to pay for daring to care about
one of her wards. Liam could already imagine how Zayn would react if he found
out that she was leaving the school. Zayn had gone through so much already and
Liam would not allow this to happen.
“If you fire Margaret or myself, I will ring up the Public School Council and
reveal the truth about what really happened with George Corrigan.” Liam’s voice
was hard as stone. “Remember that ‘stabbing’ incident that you fibbed about?
 I’m certain that’s just one of the many skeletons hidden in your closet. I
wonder what the PBC would discover if they ran a full internal investigation on
your administration?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Liam reached across Dunne’s desk for the phone. He picked up the receiver and
poised a finger on the dialling pad. “You want to risk that?”
Dunne narrowed his eyes as he watched Liam. He reached for the phone and pried
it from Liam’s hands. “Her actions can’t go unpunished.”
“Write her up a warning letter. Suspend her without pay. You’re a smart man -
you’ll think of something.” Liam stood with slightly unsteady legs, half
incredulous to what had just happened, but he wasn't going to sit around
gaping. He quickly exited Head Master Dunne’s office and walked back to his
class.
                                  *** *** ***
These days, Liam woke up every morning when his cell phone went off. He rolled
out of bed and dressed in a pair of running shorts, trainers, and a T-shirt. By
7AM, he would be out of the door, welcoming the new day with an old fashioned,
on campus run. He found that running cleared his head. When his calves were
burning and his lungs were tight from exertion, he realised that all those
shiny trinkets of his formal life were not needed, not when he had the fresh
autumn air in his lungs and the spectacular view from Windsor Hill.
McEllan Academy in early autumn was a sight to behold. The Mulberry tree leaves
turned a beautiful shade of orange before falling down to carpet the grass. The
sky was a clear blue, promising a beautiful day ahead. He was jogging the cross
country path that ran through the woods behind the school when he heard the
rhythmic thud of feet behind him. Liam glanced over his shoulder and spotted
Zayn dressed in a McEllan tracksuit. Liam leaned against a tree and waited for
Zayn to catch up. When Zayn reached him, Liam fell in step with him.
“Nice day for it, yeah?” Zayn called out. He was panting, his hair plastered
over his forehead. Liam noticed that the front of the vest he wore was soaking
wet. Liam looked away, staring straight ahead at the narrowing path.
“Nice day for what?” Liam jumped over a fallen log, pausing to make sure Zayn
didn't trip on it. Zayn gracefully leaped over the log and overtook Liam.
“A morning run.” Zayn glanced at Liam. A mischievous smile broke out on his
face. “Race you to the windmill.”
He sprinted towards the old windmill. The cross country path deviated right,
heading back to the girls' residences. The windmill path was not sanctioned by
the school. Liam was certain it was one of the areas on the vast property that
was marked as 'out of bounds'. Liam found his feet moving and he chased after
Zayn, veering off the cross country path. Liam easily caught up with Zayn, who
was bent over, leaning against a tree as he caught his breath.
“How did you manage to get out of the house so early?” Liam handed Zayn his own
water bottle. Zayn unscrewed the bottle and took a generous sip.
“I joined cross country.” Zayn pointed to the logo on the breast pocket of his
tracksuit’s jacket. “We're training for the 20KM marathon that's taking place
in November.” He closed the water bottle and handed it to Liam, wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand.
“And where is the rest of the team?” Liam asked before he drank from the water
bottle.
“Don't know.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You honestly want me to believe that you happened to stumble across me as I
ran the route I've been running for the past month?”
“Yes.”
“Colour me incredulous.”
“What? You think I'm stalking you?” Zayn raised his brow as he waited for an
answer.
“There is no such thing as a coincidence.” Liam turned, fully intending to head
back to the main path. Stay away from Zayn. He felt a hand enclose his wrist.
He turned around. “Zayn.”
“I hate it when you say my name like that.” Zayn released Liam's hand and
crossed his arms over his chest. “It's condescending.”
“Then stop aggravating me.” Liam took four steps away from Zayn.
“Stop doing that.” Zayn walked to up to Liam. “You're acting like I'm going to
drag you off into the woods any second and have my way with you.” Wasn't that
ironic. Liam was protecting Zayn from himself. Liam was the one who couldn't be
trusted.
“It's not-” Liam ran his hand through his hair, swearing under his breath.
“I know I shouldn't have visited you at your house, but I didn't want you to be
alone on your birthday.” Zayn kicked at the dirt, his hair catching bits of
early morning sunlight as he looked down, glossy strands turning a mahogany. “I
know what it’s like when no one remembers your birthday. I just didn't- the
other stuff, the kissing, I'm sorry. Okay?” Zayn's voice quivered. “You're my
best friend. Please, don't hate me.”
“I don't hate you.”
“You just don't want me like that.”
“You don't know what you're asking from me.”
“Yes, I do.” Zayn walked up to Liam and reached for his hand. Liam took another
step backwards.
“Just stand where you are,” Liam said. He took a deep breath and spoke quickly.
“You think I don't want you? Zayn, if you knew the things I've done just to
manoeuvre myself into your life, you wouldn’t want to kiss me.”
“I know you messed with Max's sled.”
“That's not even the tip of the iceberg.” Liam ran his hands through his hair.
He took one last glance at Zayn. “If you keep harassing me, I'll report you.”
“What?” Zayn's eyes were wide and incredulous.
Liam let the vitriol slip through his lips. “Head Master Dunne has already
issued two warning letters in your name. One more means an automatic expulsion.
Outside of class, we don't know one another.” Liam turned and headed towards
the main cross country path.
“Liam!” Zayn called behind him. “Please stop. I'm sorry. Liam!”
Liam broke into a sprint and he ran, running and running until the trees
blurred. Only when he hit the main cross country path and stopped did he
realise he had tears streaming down his face.
***** Chapter 13 *****
The email arrived one evening while Liam was marking essays at home. The sender
was Mason Richard. The title of the email read: November Interschool Sports
Gala. He read.
Hello Liam,
It slipped my old mind that your email address had changed and I've been
boggled by 'undeliverable' messages overrunning my inbox. Luckily my wife, who
is far cleverer than I am, reminded me.
As you might have noticed, winter is fast approaching, and in the McEllan
tradition, we're heralding its return with the interschool sports gala which
will be held on Guy Fawkes weekend in New Hampshire.
You performed such a marvellous job supervising the MES trip earlier this year,
so I thought I should extend a gala invitation to you. I shall be in
attendance, as will be the physical education teacher, Ms. Shapiro.
We would greatly enjoy your company. Let me know what you think.
Keep safe and well.
Your friend,
Mason Richard
The first treacherous thought that entered his mind was that he knew Zayn had
joined the cross country team and was participating in the interschool sports
gala.
He'd seen Zayn training, donned in the McEllan issue tracksuit, running through
campus in the mornings. Liam would’ve loved to attend the gala and see Zayn
accomplish the 20KM feat, along with seeing him receive medals and accolades.
But Liam couldn’t sign up to spend a weekend with Zayn when he had told Zayn
they should keep a distance from each other. He had to stay consistent and
going to the sport gala would send the wrong message to Zayn.
Liam clicked reply and typed a response.
Hi Mason
Unfortunately, I'm unable to attend as I'll be away during that weekend.
Kind Regards,
Liam
He pressed send, picked up the stack of essays, and resumed marking.
                                  *** *** ***
On Wednesday, Liam locked up his classroom and headed for the school library.
He had a period free and he didn't want to go to the staff room and be around
the other teachers. He also didn't feel like going home, hence the library was
the only remaining place he could go.
The McEllan school library was situated a short distance from the admin
building. It was drizzling outside, overcast and frigid. Liam did up the
buttons of his jacket, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets as he sped-
walked to the library. By the time he arrived, his hair was wet and plastered
on his forehead. At least the inside the building was warm. Liam brushed off
drops of water from his shoulders and entered.
Since most of the students were in class, the third floor was empty. He found a
quiet room, set up his laptop, and typed out the notes for his next lesson. He
had been working for twenty minutes or so when he heard a knock on the door. He
looked up to see the silver door handle dip and a head poke in.
“Zayn,” Liam said, surprised.
“Oh, I didn't know anyone was in here.” Zayn started to close the door,
retreating.
“Wait,” Liam called out. Zayn paused, half-way out the room. Liam pushed the
chair back and stood up. “How's the cross country training going?”
“All right.”
“Are you planning to bring McEllan some hometown glory at the interschool
gala?” Liam asked. Zayn shrugged. He was looking down at his hand on the door,
where his fingers gripped the wood. Liam lowered his voice. “I just wanted to
say I'm sorry about what I said the last time we spoke.”
Liam reached for Zayn by the hand and guided him into the room, pushing the
door closed behind him. Zayn’s fingers were ice and Liam longed to hold them
between his hands and warm them up. Zayn yanked his hand from Liam’s and
steadfastly stared at the floor.
“I don't want things to be weird between us.” Liam sighed. “Please don't make
me feel like I'm being unreasonable. You've got to understand that there's so
much at stake here. Not just for me, but for you. If this gets out, you don't
want to be labelled as that boy who got involved with his teacher for the rest
of your life.”
“But no one has to know.” Zayn looked up at Liam. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I know,” Liam admitted. Zayn’s hair was dripping rivulets of water onto his
face. “It would be wrong of me to ask you to keep a secret like that.”
“Liam.” Zayn said his name like he was tasting it.
“Yes?”
“Did you enjoy kissing me?” Zayn asked softly. Liam wanted to look away, but
Zayn's eyes were hypnotic; plaintive and yearning. Liam reached his left hand
up and brushed away at the strands of hair falling over Zayn’s forehead.
“You need a haircut,” Liam murmured. Zayn stepped closer to Liam, his eyes
dropping to Liam's lips.
“I want to kiss you again,” Zayn said. Liam was on a fucking merry-go-round.
Weren’t they exactly where they had been a few weeks back? Why was he even
fighting this? “Will you let me?” Zayn asked.
Liam closed his eyes, acquiescing in his silence. Zayn's cool lips brushed
against his softly. Liam tilted his head to the side, parting his lips, letting
Zayn in. He placed his left hand on Zayn's shoulder, needing to feel something
solid, or he would simply drift away. So heady was the taste of Zayn’s lips, so
sweet. Oh so sweet. They kissed for a moment and then Zayn was pulling away. He
leaned in to whisper in Liam's ear.
“Do you want to go somewhere, um, with me?”
Liam opened his eyes. “I’m not free. I have a class in the next period.”
“Skip it.” Zayn kissed Liam. “We could go back to your place.” Zayn couldn’t
suggest his room back at Webber House as it was certainly out of the question.
“I-” Liam swallowed. He wanted to be stronger than this.
“Or we could book a room somewhere,” Zayn suggested eagerly. “I would go
anywhere with you.”
Liam didn't doubt him for a second. That was one of a million reasons why this
relationship was fucked up. The power imbalance was off the scales. Liam knew
he could ask Zayn for anything and Zayn would say yes. It wasn't right. It made
his skin crawl.
“Zayn.” Liam brushed Zayn's hair from his eyes. He pressed his thumb against
Zayn's cheek, feeling the smooth, youthful skin. “We're not going anywhere.
That was a goodbye kiss.” Liam breathed in Zayn's skin, imprinting the scent in
his memory. “Win that race for me.”
Liam pressed his lips on Zayn's forehead once before he turned to pack his
laptop and walked out of the study room without uttering another word.
                                  *** *** ***
“So a leopard can change his spots after all. Good old Mr Payne.” Liam held the
door open for Louis, letting him into his house. Louis took off his jacket and
hung it up on the coat stand, looking around the place. “Excuse me if I sound a
tad rude, but this is a downgrade with a capital D.”
“It's good to see you, Louis.” Liam hugged him.
“Good to see you too, old man.” Louis clapped Liam on the back and pulled away.
“How about giving me a tour of this fine establishment?”
“Follow after me.” He led Louis into the living room. “This is where I probably
spend most of my time. The electric wiring is prehistoric and the rest of the
house is as cold as a witch’s tit. That little fireplace comes in handy,
especially with the cold weather approaching.”
“Nice.” Louis picked up a stack of books on the coffee table. “Marital Cases
Act of 1973? Odd bedtime reading.”
Liam took the book from Louis. He didn't feel like entering into a long drawn
out spiel about how Sophia had hired a team of divorce solicitors and was
dragging out the divorce. Legal fees charged by their ilk were exorbitant. Liam
was saving to buy a second hand Corolla, therefore he couldn't afford his own
council. Plus, there was her whole promise of 'making him pay' and Sophia was
not one for turning the other cheek. He was certain there was a Sophia Smith
concocted catastrophe awaiting him in the near future.
“Next we have the kitchen.” Liam led Louis to the kitchen. Louis walked to the
fridge and opened it.
“No beer? What kind of bachelor pad is this?”
“I have scotch.”
“I'm not ancient like you so I'll pass.” Louis walked out of the kitchen. Liam
followed after him.
“First door is the bathroom while the second is the loo. Last but not least,”
Liam walked past Louis and opened a door. “My bedroom.”
Louis poked his head into Liam’s bedroom, pulling a face. “As I said earlier;
downgrade.” Louis walked back to the sitting room, plonking himself on a sofa.
Liam followed after him. “I never thought you'd ever leave her,” Louis said in
awe. “Never in a million years.”
“I couldn't breathe in that house.” Liam sat down beside Louis. “It was either
walking away or succumbing to asphyxiation.”
“Harry told me about your visit,” Louis suddenly said.
“Yeah?”
“He hopes you'll stop by again sometime. If there's anything that lad loves,
it's a good fixer upper.”
“I'm not in need of fixing.”
“Dare I ask how things are with that child you're obsessed with?” Louis had the
jarring habit of jumping from topic to topic.
Liam chose his words carefully. “I'm staying away from him.”
Louis studied Liam, checking if he was telling the truth. Whatever he saw must
have reassured him because he patted Liam's right knee. “Might I add that
moving next door to him probably conflicts with that goal?”
“I'm not living next door to him.”
Louis gestured around the house. “Excuse me, but is this not a teacher’s
residence within the walls of very same boarding school he attends?”
“It's not like that.”
“Let me make this simple. Has he been in your house?”
“Yes,” Liam admitted.
“Were you two alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did anything not sanctioned by the school body occur?”
Liam remained silent.
“Liam, you're messing with some serious shit.”
“You don't think I know that?”
“I'll repeat words spoken by a wise bairn; fiddling with young boys will earn
you a nice little jail cell.”
“I'm not fid-”
Louis raised his hand, silencing Liam. “Fiddling with a young, posh boy means
having his well-connected, deep-pocketed parents gunning after you. How many
one percenters do you intend on riling up?”
“I've broken things off with him.”
“As long as you're teaching at this school, you haven't.”
“I can't just leave. Job prospects aren't exactly inundating my inbox.”
“You have a university degree - surely you can find something else.” Louis
paused, watching Liam's face. “Unless you don't want to.”
“I like my current job.”
“You're a recovering sex offender. You shouldn't be around children.”
“I have this under control.” Liam thought about his encounter with Zayn in the
library last week. He may have lost his composure for a few seconds, but he
recovered and removed himself from the situation.
“Are you sure about that?” Louis asked.
“I'm sure,” Liam said firmly. Louis watched him momentarily, the same
expression from earlier on his face. Liam didn't waiver. Louis nodded.
“How about that old man alcohol? I feel like getting pissed tonight.”
                                  *** *** ***
Hours later, Liam was cautiously guiding Louis into an Uber taxi he had called
for him. It was dark out and the temperature had plummeted. Louis clung onto
Liam, his fist bunching up the front of the rugby jersey Liam wore.
“I'm glad we're mates,” Louis slurred.
“Yeah, me too,” Liam said.
“It sucked when we weren't speaking. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Liam kissed Louis on the cheek. “Take care of yourself. And
don't forget to go for that job interview on Monday.” Louis collapsed in the
backseat of the car, saluting Liam with one hand. Liam spoke to the taxi
driver. “His mate is waiting for him at the train station.”
Harry would ensure that Louis got home all right. Liam waved one last time and
watched the vehicle drive away, red rear lights blinking in the dark. He was
heading into his house when he heard a voice from behind him.
“Who was that?” Liam turned to find Zayn stepping out from behind a tree. Zayn
had a cross country tracksuit on and was shivering, the thin jacket hardly any
cover for the cold.
“Zayn, what are you doing here?” Liam asked.
Zayn rolled his eyes. “I think 90 percent of all our conversations begin with
those words coming out of your mouth. ‘Zayn, what are you doing here? Zayn, are
you following me? Zayn, we can't do this. Zayn.’” He set his jaw. “You two
looked like-” Zayn flushed. “Are you in a relationship with him?”
“Za-” Liam caught himself. He stared at Zayn, who had his arms crossed and was
shivering. “Louis is a former student of mine - I fucked him in my classroom
after school when he was fifteen. Is that what you want to hear?” Liam bit down
on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. “I told you; if you knew
who I am, you wouldn't fancy me.”
Zayn turned to look in the direction the taxi had disappeared in. He looked
back at Liam and Zayn closed the distance between them. He had gotten so tall
that they were almost nose to nose, but Liam still had size on him. Liam’s
shoulders were much broader than Zayn's, though Liam could see faint traces of
the man Zayn would be one day. It equally scared and intrigued him.
“Is that why you offered to train me? You wanted to have sex with me? Why
didn't you go ahead with it?” Zayn demanded. “You had so many opportunities-”
He stopped talking abruptly, his eyes searching Liam's. “Was it because of Max?
You felt sorry for me?”
“Zayn, just leave.” Liam turned, heading towards the front door.
“Or was it the suicide attempt? Poor little rich boy, abandoned by his parents
and trying to off himself.” Zayn's voice followed after Liam and he spun
around, walking back to Zayn.
“Why are you doing this?” Liam grabbed Zayn's arm.
“You know why.”
“This,” Liam gestured between their bodies. “Is not happening. I've told you
that and I don't know how to make that any clearer to you. Just go, please.”
“I can't. I love you.”
Liam released Zayn's arm and shook his head.
“I'm in love with you,” Zayn repeated.
“It's just a school boy crush.” Liam stared at Zayn, who had his jaw set hard.
“I'm-” Liam dragged air into his lungs. “There's something wrong with me.”
“I don't care.”
“Zayn, you're notlistening to me.” Liam let the words punch out of his throat.
“Louis isn't the only one. There were others. Boys. I like boys. Young. Just
like you.” Liam let the familiar vitriol flounder past his vocal chords. Let
Zayn hate him. He didn't care if Zayn went and told Marge, his parents, or the
entire school. Liam was poison. Louis had been choking him down for years.
“You’re right. The fact that I wanted to fuck you was the only reason I trained
you. That's why I went shopping with you. It's why I left my wife. I don't care
about- that's all there is.”
Zayn stared at him, his beautiful face unreadable. “How young?”
“What?”
“The boys - how young were they?”
“Teenagers,” Liam replied. “It varied.”
“How many were there before me?”
“It doesn't-” Liam paused. What number could he give Zayn that would make him
hate him? Ten? A hundred? “A lot. Okay. There were a lot of them. And
everything you're feeling was specifically engineered by me. It’s called
‘grooming’ for a reason. It was all an act.”
Zayn rubbed his arms up and down, looking away from Liam. After a long while,
he said, “Why did you change your mind?” When Liam didn’t reply. Zayn added,
“I'm not going to tell anyone. Don't worry about that.”
He turned and walked up the driveway, heading towards Webber House. Liam
watched him go, feeling a part of himself break.
                                  *** *** ***
On Saturday at precisely 7AM, Liam was lacing up his trainers when he heard a
sharp knock on the door. He pulled on an Adidas hoodie, grabbed his water
bottle, and went to answer. On the other side of the door was the black guy
from the divorce deposition. Still dressed in an expensive suit, subtle cologne
wafted from him.
“Yes?” Liam asked, holding onto the door.
“Mr Payne,” the man said. His voice was deep, his accent American. “May I come
in?”
“I was about to go for a run,” Liam said. “Can you just state the reason for
your visit? What does Sophia want?”
The man smiled, revealing a set of even white teeth and a pair of dimples.
“What makes you think Sophia sent me?”
“Because the last time I saw you, you were leaving the deposition with her,”
Liam said.
“I do believe you’d prefer if we had this conversation indoors,” he said. Liam
pulled the door ajar and stepped back, letting the man in.
“I'm Dale Turner.” The man held out a hand. Liam shook it.
“What may I assist you with?”
Turner reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a manila
envelope. “I'm a private investigator. I was hired by your wife.”
Turner looked down at the envelope, smiling almost fondly at it. He handed it
to Liam who opened the envelope, unravelling the two page report contained in
it. He read the first few lines before he felt his legs tremble and he sank
down onto the sofa.
“Riveting stuff,” Turner murmured. “Has the makings of a blockbuster.”
Liam's eyes fogged over, the words he was reading blurring. Howard Preparatory
School. Harry Styles. Told a co-worker Tomlinson was his cousin… Recovered
folder...Zayn Malik. GPS tracker led to an internet cafe…Search history
maiden's apple…Sled designs. Maximilian Grant-Whitfield…broken leg. Informed
shop assistant Malik was a ‘mate’. Recovered formatted drive-
“Do you know what I find absolutely fascinating about England, Mr Payne?”
Turner asked. “You have the most CCTV cameras per square mile radius than any
other country in the world, which makes for one CCTV camera for every eleven
people. That’s a shitload of cameras.”
Turner pulled out photos from his other pocket. He placed them on the coffee
table. The first one Liam saw was one of him and Zayn in the Aston Martin at an
intersection, presumably taken by a traffic camera after he and Zayn had left
the hotel that night.
“I do wonder if Mr Malik's parents know the sort of extracurricular activities
you've been engaging in with their fifteen year old son?”
Liam closed his eyes before blinking them open. Through a dry mouth he said,
“What does she want?”
“You can ask her yourself when she summons you.” Turner glanced at the photos.
“That kid sure is photogenic. I'll leave these here for your perusal. Expect to
hear from her.”
Turner buttoned his jacket and walked out the house. Liam pushed the report off
the table in one motion. He was truly fucked.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam forewent his morning run. He was physically incapable of doing anything
except staring at the pictures on his coffee table - and there were a lot of
them. Some were of him and Zayn at the Blue Ridge Mall when they had gone suit
shopping. They had been taken by various CCTV cameras in various angles from
when they entered the mall to the time they left.
There were photos taken outside the mall’s bathroom, time stamped and telling a
sordid tale of Liam leading Zayn to the bathroom by the elbow and then, ten
minutes later, walking out with him. There were pictures of them in Liam’s car,
parked in a hotel’s parking lot, a neon light in the distance, text reading
‘rooms for rent by the hour’. Liam was leaning across his car seat, his lips
almost pressed against Zayn’s ear, his eyes hooded. It looked intimate. And
damning.
He picked up the report and re-read it. His entire laptop hard drive had been
recovered. Sophia knew everything he had googled in the privacy of his study
while he had been married to her. Apparently there had been a GPS tracker
fitted in the Aston Martin and a detailed log that showed he had spent his
Thursday evenings at McEllan when he should have been at the gym. Liam put away
the report, scrubbing at his face.
He had nothing else left but to wait for her to call for him.
                                  *** *** ***
A month passed. Then another, and another.
Liam called in the New Year alone on a deserted campus, shivering because
sometime after Boxing Day, the gas heating in the house had gone to hell.
Luckily there was an electric heater left by the previous resident. And it was,
along with the fireplace, his defence against the cold.
He could have visited home, but he didn't. Thinking about his parents brought a
mixed bag of emotions to him. He missed them and he would have loved to have a
family dinner on Christmas instead of the soggy microwave dish he heated for
himself, but he was embarrassed and ashamed. He'd set them aside so easily to
live a life that wasn't really his and he didn't feel he could just show up one
day like that fucking prodigal son.
There was also the Sophia situation. He didn't know when she would summon him
and he wanted to be easily available when she did. He realised that the wait
was probably part of her plan. She wanted him to marinade in his fear,
wondering what she had up her sleeves until he couldn't take it anymore and
ringed her, or better yet, showed up at her doorstep. Then what happened in her
mind? He begged her to take him back? He promised not to go through with the
divorce? He jerked off into a cup so she could sire a spawn?
Five years married to her and he hadn't the foggiest idea what she had in mind.
On the telly he saw the countdown clock begin. “Happy fucking New Year,” he
said to himself.
                                  *** *** ***
The letter arrived in his mailbox in the middle of January.
Liam had just wrapped up his last class for the week. It was a Friday and that
meant he'd have a bit of a break before tackling another week of school. He had
stayed late in his classroom, marking before locking up and walking through the
quiet campus to his residence.
The air was cold, winter far from over. He felt his nose sting from the bitter
wind that blew. He tightened his coat around his body and sped up his pace,
keeping his head low. He checked his mailbox. He hardly ever received any mail
addressed to him as most of it was titled for the old resident, a Miss O.
Kenilworth. He knew she had been a Geography teacher from the old roster in the
staff room, but for the life of him, he couldn't call up an image of her to
mind.
He flipped the lid of the old mailbox. There was one letter - a white, medium
sized envelope. It was addressed to a Mr L. Payne. It hadn't been posted by
Royal Mail and he deduced someone had hand delivered it to him.
He put down his laptop bag and opened the letter. There was a single A4 sized
white page. He unfolded it and a card dropped to the ground. He ignored it,
reading the letter.
Room 506
19PM, Saturday the 17th of January
The Ritz London
That was all that was written. Liam bent down and picked up the card. It was
the hotel’s room card key. Sophia had finally summoned him. He collected his
laptop bag and walked into his house.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Liam got dressed and climbed into his second hand Corolla, beginning the trek
to The Ritz London. He kept to a moderate pace while he drove, keeping his mind
blank to avoid worrying about what demands Sophia could possibly ask from him.
When he arrived at the hotel, he drove into its underground guest parking and
parked before using the key card to access the guest lift. The lift arrived and
he pressed the fifth floor button. The back wall of the elevator was mirrored
and he glanced at himself. He looked good. Suave. Sophia would appreciate the
effort. Maybe she would be lenient in her demands.
The lift pinged open and he stepped out onto his floor. It was carpeted, with
expensive artwork hanging on the walls. Liam walked quickly to room 506. He
glanced at his wristwatch: 18:45PM. He was early. He slotted the card in and
watched the door lock blink green. He entered the room and shut the door behind
himself, glancing around.
It was a typical hotel; expensive and impersonal. It looked like the hundreds
of others he had frequented during his time as Liam Smith-Payne. He took off
his jacket and hung it up, walking to the foot of the bed, where champagne was
chilling on ice on a room service tray. He picked up the bottle. Don Perignon
2005. Sophia’s tastes had certainly changed. He would have expected a vintage
2008 Chateau Paloumey Red Bordeaux blend from her. He opened the bottle,
pouring a liberal amount of champagne into a glass. He raised the glass to his
mouth, taking a sip.
“I wasn't sure what you liked. Champagne seemed like a good bet.” Zayn's voice
said from behind him. Liam turned slowly to face Zayn, who had stepped out of
the bathroom.
Zayn was dressed in a suit. It wasn't the one they had purchased during that
trip to the mall. This one was new - grey and elegant. It was tailored to fit
Zayn's shape, complete with gleaming diamond encrusted cufflinks. His hair was
styled into a coif and he wore a silver tie.
“You sent that letter?” Liam asked.
“Yes.” Zayn walked passed Liam and picked up the champagne bottle. He poured it
into a glass and took a sip. “I got something for you. It's there on the desk.”
Liam buried the questions that were itching to leave his throat. He placed his
own champagne glass down and walked to the desk. There was a typed out letter,
a Mont Blanc pen, and a cheque.
“Read the letter first,” Zayn instructed. Liam reached for the page and picked
it up. He read aloud:
“Dear Head Master Dunne,
I have enjoyed the time I have spent at McEllan, but I feel that I would like
to explore other opportunities.  I resign with immediate effect.
Yours Sincerely,
Liam Payne.”
Liam looked up at Zayn. “What is this?”
“Pretty self-evident, isn’t it?” Zayn swallowed down the rest of the champagne.
“It's your resignation letter.”
“I have no intention of resigning.”
“Yes, you do.” Zayn regarded Liam. “Look at the cheque.”
Liam put the letter down on the desk and picked up the cheque. It was written
out in his name for an amount of £500,000. “What the bloody hell?”
“That's fair compensation for you to leave McEllan. It's about ten times your
current annual cost to company. I'm sure with your skills, you'll find another
position in no time.”
“You want to pay me to resign?” Liam asked slowly.
He knew things had become complicated between him and Zayn. It took all his
composure and sheer willpower when he taught a class with Zayn in it not to
avoid Zayn's direct eye contact, and to keep his voice level when he spoke to
Zayn, and when he saw Zayn walking towards him in the hallway, not to make a U-
turn and head in the opposite direction.
 He did all these things because he knew he would rather have these brief,
awkward encounters with Zayn than nothing at all. And now he found out that he
had been incorrect to think that Zayn was coping, because here they were in one
of the most expensive hotels in London, with a half a million pound cheque Zayn
had scrounged from God only knew where and a resignation letter with Liam’s
name on it.
“You're mistaken, Mr Payne.” Zayn walked across the room until he stood
opposite to Liam, chest to chest, eye to eye. Liam forced himself to hold
Zayn's steady gaze, even as his body surged with adrenaline. Liam was beginning
to think he knew what the money was for.
“No.” Liam dropped the cheque, not caring where it landed.
“I once asked you if you'd sleep with me if I wasn't fifteen and you weren't my
teacher.” Zayn stepped even closer to Liam. “You didn't say no. I turned
sixteen earlier this week and that resignation letter should cover the rest.”
“No.” Liam sidestepped Zayn, heading to the opposite side of the room. He
realised that’s where the bed was and he stopped and walked to the windows,
opting to stare out into the glittering city.
“I know you want me,” Zayn said from behind him. He sounded close. Liam spun
around and bumped into Zayn, who placed his hands on Liam's waist, gripping him
tightly. He leaned in and whispered into Liam's left ear, “I'd let you do
anything to me.”
Liam closed his eyes and gritted out, “You think because you have tons of
money, you can just buy me?” He yanked Zayn's arms off him. “So much for not
being a spoiled little posh brat.”
Liam stalked to the table and stared down at the resignation letter. The
fucking nerve. Pre-empting that Liam would be thrilled to just sign the letter
and fuck Zayn for a payday. Like Liam was that destitute and desperate. It hurt
that Zayn would think so little of him. He wanted to leave the hotel and drive
back to McEllan.
“Liam. I can call you Liam, right?” Zayn didn't wait for any words of
affirmation from him. “That cheque is for you to dispel any ideas that you're
luring me into this. I’ve wanted you for a long time. This is the loophole I
needed to get you to, um-” Zayn's words wavered.
Liam turned to face him. “Fuck you?” Liam offered.
“Yes.”
“You don't want this.”
“Yes, I do,” Zayn insisted. “Sign the resignation letter.”
Why was Liam even saying no? There was Sophia in the horizon with the atomic
bomb she would throw at him any day. Even if he did walk out of this hotel
room, his days of teaching at McEllan were numbered. She was biding her time,
waiting for the optimum time to unravel the life he had built for himself. He
could have this with Zayn for tonight. She already thought he and Zayn had
slept together. If he was going to lose everything, why shouldn't he at least
get to have Zayn?
“And this offer - is it just for tonight?” Liam asked.
“Yes.”
“And afterwards we'll be over? No more showing up at my house or following me
on my runs?”
“Yes.”
Liam picked up the pen and signed the resignation letter. Once he was done, he
walked across the room and poured himself another glass of champagne. He took
two swallows before setting the glass down. He watched Zayn.
“What do you want?” Liam asked. Zayn frowned as if he didn't understand the
question. Liam added, “Straight up sex? Blowjobs? Kissing? Any list of demands?
Half a million pounds gets you a lot.”
“Um, kissing would be good. I enjoyed doing that with you.” Zayn ran his hands
through his hair. “The other stuff sounds cool. What else can we do?”
“Rimming?”
“Receiving or giving?” Zayn asked.
“Either. You're paying,” Liam replied. Zayn's frown returned. He didn't like
Liam mentioning that money was exchanging hands. Too bad.
“Rimming is fine.” Zayn looked at Liam. “Do we just take our clothes off?”
Liam closed the space between them and he pulled Zayn into his arms, kissing
him hard on the mouth. He ran his hands up Zayn's back, bunching up Zayn's
jacket. He walked them backwards to the bed, stopping when he felt the foot of
the bed hit the back of his knees. He kept kissing Zayn, his hands reaching up
to push Zayn's jacket off his shoulders. Zayn shook his head, ending the kiss.
“You first,” Zayn said.
“Okay.”
 Liam reached for his tie and yanked it over his head. He kept his eyes on Zayn
as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He unbuckled his belt
and threw it aside, hearing it hit the wall and land in the corner of the room.
He kicked his shoes off, one after the other and leaned over, pulling at his
socks. Once they were off, he rose and reached for the zipper of his trouser.
He pulled the zipper down and stepped out his trousers.
 He stood in front of Zayn, his erection tenting the front of his white pants.
He looped his finger on the waistband and pulled it down. He kicked his
underwear off and walked to Zayn, kissing him. Zayn's hand reached between
their bodies and his fingers encircled Liam’s dick. Liam hissed and thrust up
into Zayn's warm palm.
“You're not circumcised,” Zayn said when they ended the kiss. He looked down at
his hand, watching as he jerked Liam off slowly. “I'm not sure-”
“Just pull back the foreskin like this.”
Liam covered Zayn's hand with his own and together they drew Liam's foreskin
back, revealing the glistening rosy-red head of his cock. Liam was mesmerised
by the slow glide of their hands up and down his dick. It looked as good as it
felt with Zayn's warm hand on his dick, providing delicious friction.
The head of his dick spurted clear fluid at the tip. Zayn rubbed his thumb
against it, smearing the pre-come. Liam was almost light-headed with arousal
and they hadn't even gotten to the actual fucking. He looked over at Zayn; the
front of his slacks were tented, his dick pressing firmly against the zipper.
Liam reached in between their bodies and pressed a hand on Zayn's crotch. 
“Do you want me to take your clothes off?” Liam traced the outline of Zayn's
dick through his trousers.
“Not yet,” Zayn said. He let go of Liam's dick and stepped away. “Get on the
bed.”
Liam nodded and climbed onto the bed, rolling onto his back to watch Zayn, who
was pouring another glass of champagne. Zayn took a sip while eyeing Liam. He
set the glass down and walked to the bed. He brushed the jacket off his
shoulders, throwing it onto the floor, and climbed onto the bed next to Liam.
He lay on his side and looked at Liam for a moment before he said, “Kiss me
like you love me.”
Liam frowned, but followed the instructions nonetheless. He placed a hand
gently on Zayn's left cheek and slotted their mouths together, kissing Zayn
slowly, carefully. He ran his hand through Zayn's hair and pressed Zayn down
against the bed, blanketing Zayn's body with his own.
He pulled away, caressing Zayn's full bottom lip. “How was that?”
“I almost believed you.” Zayn stared up at Liam.
“Almost,” Liam echoed. Almost wasn’t good enough. He descended on Zayn, tracing
Zayn’s mouth with his lips, syncing their breathing as he reached for Zayn's
fingers and intertwined them with his own.
He undulated his hips against Zayn’s, pressing his arousal against Zayn's
belly. He kissed down Zayn's neck, nipping at the skin, careful not to leave
any marks. He didn't want any observant McEllanian eyes raising queries as to
why Zayn had love bites. He reached the base of Zayn's throat and breathed him
in. He licked up Zayn's neck, kissed Zayn's jaw, and found his lips once more,
kissing him long and hard until they were both breathless.
He wanted Zayn so much. He wanted to be inside him, fucking hard into him,
making him moan. Liam ended the kiss and dragged Zayn up by both arms, sitting
him up before he unbuttoned Zayn's shirt, yanking the tail out his trousers. He
unbuckled Zayn's belt, undid the button, and pulled down the zipper. He pushed
Zayn's trousers down to mid-thigh before he gave up. He needed to have Zayn's
dick in his mouth.
 He reached for the black briefs Zayn wore and pushed them down. Zayn's
erection sprung free, jutting out from a thatch of dark, curly hair. The sight
of it made Liam light-headed. He bent down and pulled Zayn's dick into his
mouth, sucking on him. The first taste of Zayn hit Liam like a bullet train. He
immediately wanted more. He worked Zayn's dick into his mouth, hoping to get as
much of him as possible. He'd never been able to deep throat, but he wanted to
get Zayn’s entire rigid length in his mouth, down his throat.
Zayn's hands were on either side of Liam's head. He didn't guide Liam or hold
him down. He simply ran his fingers through Liam's hair, moaning as Liam sucked
him with fervour. Liam was breathless and was working with one singular aim;
getting Zayn to come so he could taste him.
Zayn was close, the head of his cock leaking continuous stream of pre-come. He
pressed up to Liam, thrusting into his mouth before he stilled, groaning, and
warm salty come hit the back of Liam's throat. He suckled on Zayn's cock, wet
sounds filling the room, licking Zayn clean. Liam pulled off, falling onto his
back as he caught his breath.
“Got your money's worth?” Liam panted.
“Not yet.” Zayn reached a hand over and patted Liam's dick. Just that slight
pressure threatened to push Liam over the edge and he backed away. Zayn pulled
the rest of his clothes off before straddling Liam, then leaning forward and
kissing him. “You're really good at that.”
“Sucking dick?” Liam asked.
“Yeah.” Zayn brushed at Liam's chest hair. “I'd ask, but I’d get jealous.” His
fingers found Liam's nipples and he traced the hard outline of them. “What do
you want in return?”
“I don't get to ask for anything. This is your half a million pound party.”
Zayn bent down and took Liam's right nipple into his mouth, sucking
experimentally. Liam arched up and his hands fell down, landing on Zayn's arse.
Zayn released Liam’s nipple and looked down at him with dark, imploring eyes.
“I wasn't being provocative when I said I'd let you do anything to me. I really
would.”
Liam huffed out a breath. “How many cocks have you taken?” he asked crudely.
“I haven't been with anyone like that before,” Zayn said.
“Then if I were you, I would think very carefully before making proclamations
such as that.”
“I want you to-” Zayn paused, his eyes skirting away from Liam’s.
“You can't even say it.”
Zayn looked at Liam. “I want you to fuck me.”
Liam toppled Zayn over, mounting him. He parted Zayn's thighs with his knees.
“You want it so bad, you're paying me for it?”
“Yes.” Zayn's thighs fell further apart, his cock thickening.
“If I wanted to fuck you raw, would you let me?”
“Raw?” Zayn's brows creased.
“Without a condom?”
“Yes,” Zayn answered. “I trust you.”
“You don't have any reason to.” Liam bucked his hips against Zayn's, letting
Zayn feel his erection. “This is what I wanted from the very first time I laid
eyes on you; you on your back with me on top of you.” He reached for Zayn's
hand and brought it down to his cock. “Feel that? How hard I am? That hard-on I
got that time we kissed wasn't the first I’ve had because of you.” He jerked
himself off with Zayn's hand. “When we were in Finland, I wanked in the shower
thinking about you. I wanted-” He spread Zayn's thighs further apart and lifted
Zayn’s hips up, patting Zayn's slim arse briefly before pressing his dick
between Zayn's arse cheeks. “I remember thinking that this is what I wanted.”
He found Zayn's entrance with the head of his dick, though he didn't push in.
He felt the heat of Zayn's body and rubbed his cock against Zayn's hole.  His
vision spotted and he came, breathing harshly before smearing his come over
Zayn's entrance with the head of his cock. He reached his hand down and slid
his index finger into Zayn, burying to the knuckle. Zayn was furnace hot
inside, clinging tightly to Liam's finger. Liam pulled his finger out and
kissed Zayn's perspiring neck. Liam looked down at him.
“You'd let me fuck you like this?”
Zayn’s eyes were half-closed. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his
skin glowed with sweat.  He licked his lips and said, “Yes.”
Liam panted against Zayn's neck. He placed an open-mouthed kiss on the damp,
sweaty skin before he rolled off Zayn. He fell on his back, his chest heaving.
He tried to lower his heart rate and glanced at Zayn, who still lay on his
back, knees spread, his inner thighs covered with Liam’s come. Zayn dropped his
head to the side, an enquiring look on his face.
“I need a moment,” Liam said as explanation.
Zayn turned over so he was facing Liam.  He reached out and touched Liam's
neck, where his birthmark was. “I like this.”
“I didn't have much of a say on it. I was born with it,” Liam said. He watched
Zayn, who had his eyebrows furrowed as he traced the shape of his birthmark.
“Happy birthday, by the way.”
Zayn met his eyes. “Thanks.”
“I knew it was you who celebrated it this past week. I just didn't want to
bring it up considering what happened the last time one of us celebrated a
birthday.” Liam caught Zayn's wandering hand in his own. “What did you do for
your birthday?”
“I was at school, so not much,” Zayn said. “Mrs Albright made the class sing
happy birthday to me, which was embarrassing.”
“Sweet sixteen,” Liam said.
“Yeah.” Zayn's eyes dimmed and he winced, pulling his hand free from Liam's.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Zayn, your expression just changed. Did I say something to upset you?” Liam
shifted closer to Zayn, trying to catch his eye. “Please, tell me.”
“I just remembered what you told me - about liking boys,” Zayn said. Liam's
body went cold all over.
“Right, that.” He rolled onto his back, not wanting to meet Zayn's eyes and see
the disgust in them.
“In a few years’ time, I won't be a teenager anymore,” Zayn said slowly. His
voice sounded anguished. Liam pressed his knuckles to his forehead, not
interrupting. Let Zayn get it all out. “I won't be your type.”
“It doesn't matter. This is happening for tonight only.”
“I just would have liked to be someone you could care for long-term. Perhaps
even love.”
That word again. Liam didn't know what to say to Zayn. Sure, he'd filled out
some manifesto in his head about wanting to stop - only time would tell if he
actually would.
He loved Zayn. He was sure he did. The tightness in his chest when he thought
about Zayn. The pain he felt when he imagined not being with him. The acute
need to protect and take care of him. He had never been in love before, so he
didn't have a yardstick to measure what he was feeling. But it felt similar to
what Savage Garden was always yammering on about in the records his mum played
non-stop when he had been growing up. That song with the line “and all I have
to do is hold you and there's a racing within my heart”
He understood it now.
His heart skipped a beat when he looked at Zayn, but was it because of Zayn,
the person? Or was it Zayn, the impossibly beautiful teenager, who called out
to him? He didn't know. He'd love to be sure, to say ‘Yes, ten years from now
this thing would be going on strong’. But he couldn't. He could walk down the
street and meet the new Harry. Not the new Zayn. He didn't think there was
anybody on the face of the earth who was like Zayn.
“You're young, Zayn. You'll meet someone who’ll give you all of that. He's out
there,” Liam said. He could feel Zayn's eyes on him.
“I want it to be you.”
“Well, it can't be, and if you're going to get whiny and childish about it,
then we can abort this entire thing.” Liam got off the bed, haphazardly looking
for his clothes. He found his shirt and was buttoning it up when Zayn came up
to him and kissed him, his hands stilling Liam.
Zayn ended the kiss. “I haven't gotten bang for my buck yet.”
“If you tell me you love me again, I'll walk out this room.” Liam pulled the
shirt off.
“It won't stop it from being any less true.”
Liam kissed Zayn just to shut him up. He wrapped his arms around Zayn and
lifted him up in one quick motion, hoisting Zayn's legs around his waist. He
pulled his lips away from Zayn and looked at him. Zayn looked ethereally
beautiful, his eyes downcast, mouth red and pouty. Liam spun them around and
deposited Zayn on the bed, careful not to place any of his body weight on Zayn.
He feathered Zayn's sternum and shoulders with kisses before he said, “Did you
bring lube?”
“Yeah,” Zayn said breathlessly. “It’s in a toiletry bag in the bathroom.”
Liam kissed his neck, feeling Zayn's pulse against his lips, and he climbed off
the bed, walking to the bathroom. There was a Gucci toiletry bag near the sink.
In it was the standard men's overnight cosmetics; shaving cream and a shaving
blade - not that Zayn needed to shave. A travel sized bottle of cologne. Nail
clippers. Face cream and roll on. There in the bottom in a pharmacy brown bag
was a pack of condoms and lube. Liam grabbed just the lube.
He walked out of the bathroom, the bottle of Durex lube in hand. Zayn hoisted
himself on his elbows and watched Liam throw the bottle onto the bed next to
Zayn. Liam got into the position he'd been earlier and tried to kiss Zayn, who
pulled away.
“What you did earlier, the blow job, it felt amazing,” Zayn said. “I want to
make you feel just as good.”
“It doesn't matter - this isn’t about me.” Liam leaned in. Zayn placed a hand
on Liam's chest, stilling him.
“It matters to me.” He ran his hand down Liam's chest, over his stomach, and
stroked Liam's semi-hard cock. “I want to be a considerate lover.”
“A considerate lover? Have you been reading your mum’s Mills & Boon novels?”
Liam looked at Zayn, who stared stubbornly at him. “You're serious about this?”
“As a heart attack.” Zayn tugged Liam's dick gently. “Tell me.” 
Liam extracted himself from Zayn's grip and crawled to the top of the bed,
leaning against the head board. “Remember earlier about you mentioning
rimming?”
“Yeah?”
“I like getting rimmed.”
“Um, okay.” Zayn frowned slightly.
“You do know what rimming is, right?”
Zayn rolled his eyes. “I watch porn.” Of course he did, Liam thought. In this
day and age, what teenage boy didn’t? Zayn continued speaking. “I just wasn't
too sure about the mechanics.”
“I'll get on my back and hitch my hips up.” Liam moved as he spoke, his cock
growing to full hardness. He got onto his back and gave his cock a quick tug.
Zayn positioned himself in between Liam's thighs. He placed his hand on Liam's
arse. Liam bit down on his bottom lip and rolled his hips up, knees almost to
his ears as he provided Zayn access. 
He felt his arse cheeks being spread apart. The first lick was tentative.
Zayn's tongue was hot, his exhalations cool. It felt good. Liam moaned low in
his throat. This spurred Zayn on. He licked Liam's hole, probing at him with
his tongue.
Liam reached to tug at his cock. The wet slick heat spread, Zayn's tongue
spearing into him. Zayn ran his fingers down Liam’s perineum to his hole, back
and forth, spreading his saliva.
Zayn palmed Liam's balls as he licked over Liam's hole over and over again. The
hot stripe of his tongue making Liam's blood run so hot he thought he would
implode.  Zayn experimentally pressed a finger to Liam's hole, pausing as if he
expected Liam to protest, before he pressed inside of him. The finger fucked
into Liam in a slow pace, withdrawing to trace the rim, before pressing back
into him. The effort of holding his thighs up became too much and Liam's
fatigued arms, onslaught with lust, simply couldn't cope anymore. He dropped a
heavy hand on Zayn's shoulder.
“I need to fuck you right now,” he said throatily.
Zayn nodded and pulled his finger out of Liam. He fell onto the bed as Liam
grabbed the lube. Liam crawled in between Zayn's thighs, pouring some lube onto
his palm. He spread Zayn's arse cheeks and found his hole, penetrating him with
one lubed finger.  Once his finger was all the way in he checked to see if Zayn
was all right. Zayn’s eyebrows were furrowed, but he didn't appear to be in
much pain. Liam eased another finger into Zayn. He could hear his own heartbeat
in his ears. His entire body was taut, ready to be buried to the hilt inside
Zayn.
But he needed to take this slow. He didn't want Zayn's memories of his first
time to be one of discomfort. When he added a third finger, he bit his lip to
keep from moaning. Zayn was clenched tight around his fingers. Liam imagined
what all that slick, heat would feel like cling-wrapped around his cock.
“Are you okay?” Liam asked Zayn as he worked his fingers in and out of him.
“You're so quiet.”
“Force of habit,” Zayn replied. Oh yes; shared rooms at Webber House.
“Do you think you'll be so quiet when I get inside you?” Liam asked. Zayn's
stiff cock twitched. Liam leaned down and pulled it into his mouth, sucking to
the same pace of his fingers fucking in and out of Zayn. He pulled away. “I
guess we'll see.”
He withdrew his fingers from Zayn and poured a generous amount of lube onto his
palm, coating his cock with it. He held Zayn's left knee up, spread Zayn's arse
cheeks, and found the slick entrance. He positioned his dick and slowly pressed
into Zayn, going as slowly as he could. Zayn was so tight, it was actually
hurting Liam. Would he even be able to get inside him? Liam stopped, only the
head of his cock lodged inside Zayn.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Liam asked.
Zayn had his eyes tightly screwed shut. “Yeah,” he said huskily. Liam didn’t
believe him. Zayn's cock had started to soften and when he looked down at
Zayn's face, he saw tears sliding from the corner of Zayn's closed eyes. Liam
retreated, pulling out of him.
“I'm hurting you.”
“The first time s'posed to.” Zayn opened his eyes. Liam was right - Zayn was
crying. “Don't stop.”
“You're too tight.” Liam inspected Zayn's hole. The skin was fluffy, red, and
abused. “I didn't prep you properly.” His own fucking fault. He had been losing
his mind with the need to get inside of Zayn. He reached for the lube and
poured more on his palm. “Just relax, Zayn. And be honest if this doesn't feel
good.”
“Okay.” Zayn exhaled out a breath. Liam eased a lubed finger into him, gently
probing.
“How's that?”
“Feels weird.”
Liam crooked his finger, trying to find Zayn's prostate. He hadn’t even thought
of this earlier, his only mandate being to loosen Zayn up and get his dick
inside of him. Louis had always been so responsive, making this part of sex
simple. It was unfair, comparing the two. He focused on finding that sensitive
nub of nerves and lighting it up for Zayn. He added another finger, massaging
Zayn from the inside, his own cock pulsing as he watched his fingers enter and
leave Zayn's body.
He glanced at Zayn's cock; it was fully flaccid now. Liam withdrew his fingers
and looked up at Zayn. “Anything at all?”
Zayn shook his head. “It just feels weird.” He looked at Liam. “I'm sorry, I
know I'm supposed to enjoy this, but, it’s just, I- it doesn't feel good. And I
don’t know- all the guys in the videos seem to like this.”
“Don't worry. Most porn isn't anything like real sex.” Liam patted Zayn's arse
cheek soothingly. “We don't have to do this tonight. What would you like
instead?”
“More kissing,” Zayn said. “And I’d like to rub up against you like I did on
your birthday. ‘Cept it'll be better because we're both starkers.” Liam kissed
his way up Zayn's flat stomach, boyish chest, and slender throat. He found
Zayn's lips and kissed him, aligning their hips, his erection nudging against
Zayn's dick.
“Like this?” He thrust against Zayn in a slow pace.
“Yeah.” Zayn's eyes fluttered shut.
His hands crept up Liam's shoulder and he wrapped his legs around Liam, the
friction between their bodies delicious. Liam thrust down hard against Zayn,
feeling Zayn's dick hardening against his own. This felt good. Right. Perfect.
His breath caught in his throat when Zayn experimentally bucked his own hips
up, meeting Liam's thrusts. Liam covered Zayn's mouth with his own. He fought
to keep his proclamations of love and unwavering devotion from coming out. He
climaxed and he felt Zayn spurt alongside him. They stilled, catching their
breaths.
Liam rolled off Zayn and lay beside him. He felt Zayn curl a thin arm around
Liam’s waist.
“You’ll stay?” Zayn asked.
“Yes.” Liam reached for the room’s remote on the night stand, switching off the
lights, and drawing the curtains closed. He pulled Zayn into his arms and
forced himself not to think of anything. He’d save the self-loathing and his
existential crisis for tomorrow.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Liam opened his eyes. The room was dark. His mind was churning like a washing
machine. He couldn't sleep. His conscience was gnawing at him, telling him he
had screwed up monumentally. His doctrines for better living, his promises to
Louis - he had defected on all of that.
When he grew aware of the warm body sleeping beside him, he pulled his arm free
from Zayn's waist. Zayn grumbled a sleepy protest and burrowed his face into
Liam's chest. Liam should have walked out of the hotel room the minute Zayn had
made his proposition, but he hadn't. Liam wished he could make himself feel
regret, but he didn’t. He'd loved every second of it - kissing Zayn, touching
him. Almost being inside Zayn.
Liam's dick started to stiffen as he recalled the tight, enveloping heat of
Zayn's body. It had hurt Zayn trying to take Liam like that, so Liam had no
right sporting a semi hard-on while he fantasised about rolling Zayn onto his
back and finishing the job. Liam turned his head and inhaled Zayn's skin before
he eased his arm from under Zayn. He had to leave while he still could.
“Shhh,” Liam said when Zayn made another sleepy protest. Liam pulled his arm
free and tried to find his clothes in the dark. He found a shirt, sniffing it.
Zayn's. He placed it on the foot of the bed. He was bent over rummaging when
the lights flickered on. He froze, using his trousers to cover his groin, and
he glanced at the bed, where a bleary-eyed Zayn held the light remote, sleep
slowly fading as he took in the sight he was seeing.
“You were going to leave me?” Zayn asked as he sat up.
“I have to go.” Liam kept the trousers against his groin.
“I just gave you my– you’re just going to slink off in the middle of the night
and leave me to wake up alone?” Zayn pulled the covers to his chest. He looked
so unbearably young on the king-sized bed. Liam felt like a louse.
“This was a transaction. Nothing more.” Liam turned his back to Zayn, unfolding
his trousers. He tried to put one leg into them. “You paid me to fuck you.”
“I paid to have one night with you. My one night isn't up,” Zayn said. “You
can't go.”
“Zayn, we agreed on this.” Liam fitted his other foot into the trousers,
feeling absolutely ridiculous; Zayn had already seen him naked.
“Stop dressing,” Zayn ordered. Liam ignored him, successfully pulling up his
zipper. There was a shuffle of material, a patter of feet, and then he felt
Zayn’s arm cross his middle, resting just below his navel.
“I want to try it again,” Zayn whispered, pressing his lips to Liam's
shoulders. Liam’s back stiffened, as did his cock. His mind careened to what it
Zayn could possibly want to try. Again.
“Try what?” Liam stared at the door. That's where he should be headed; through
the door, down the hotel corridor, and into the lift. To get into his Corolla
and drive to McEllan. He would figure the rest when he got home. Zayn's hand
moved downwards, past Liam’s abdomen, and brushed over his clothed erection.
“Getting all of this,” Zayn’s hand cupped Liam's crotch, “inside of me.” Zayn
massaged Liam's cock, squeezing it. He pressed himself against Liam's buttocks.
Liam could feel his hard-on. “How about it?”
Zayn nipped at Liam's shoulder with his teeth. It wasn't gentle - there was a
ferociousness to it. It stung. There would definitely be a mark tomorrow. Liam
turned and kissed Zayn, picking him up and carrying Zayn to the desk, clearing
the resignation letter and other hotel stationary off to the floor with one
hand. He planted Zayn down on his feet and spun him around so he faced the
desk.
“Hands on the table,” Liam ordered. He bit Zayn's left shoulder. Zayn hissed.
Yeah, payback was a bitch. Liam soothed away the sting of his teeth with soft
kisses, kissing his way down Zayn's knobby spine. He put a hand underneath Zayn
and pushed Zayn's hips out. Liam dropped to his knees and watched as Zayn's
legs trembled.
He parted Zayn's arsecheeks and placed a kiss on Zayn's entrance.  Zayn must
have cleaned off the lube from earlier before going to bed because when Liam
leaned in and licked into him, he got an acerbic taste of hotel soap on his
tongue. He pulled away, licking his right index finger before teasing it
against Zayn's hole.
“You're shaking,” Liam quietly observed. Liam would be gentle this time around.
He’d get Zayn prepared properly. He leaned forward and licked into Zayn slowly.
He pulled away. “I'm going to get you wet.”
Zayn's toes clenched and he hid his face into his forearms. Liam took note of
his response. Zayn liked what he had just said. Was it the dirty talk? Or was
he just experiencing the joys of getting rimmed for the first time?  Liam's
trousers felt too tight and he wanted to take them off, but he knew if he got
his cock free, it wouldn't be long before he was ramming it into Zayn. He
wanted this to feel just as good to Zayn as it would to him. He ignored the
lust that coursed through his veins, focusing on the task at hand; the boy he
had bent over a hotel desk.
He placed a palm on either side of Zayn's arse cheeks, holding him open. He ran
his tongue over Zayn's hole, working on getting it into Zayn, getting him
drenched with his saliva. Liam pulled back.
 “So wet. Almost ready for my cock.” Liam pressed his thumb against Zayn's
entrance, daring to slide the tip in. So unbearably tight. His cock pulsed as
he recalled what it had felt like to be where his left thumb was. He retreated
before inserting his index into Zayn's hole, fingering him. “How're you doing
up there?” Liam asked.
“Good,” Zayn gritted out.
“Can I try for two fingers? Think you can take them?” Liam tapped his middle
finger against Zayn's perineum as he spoke.
“Yeah.”
Liam eased his middle finger alongside his index and just rested them inside
Zayn, letting Zayn grow accustomed to the feel of having something inside of
him. Instinctively, Liam kissed Zayn's lower back. Before he resumed, focusing
with surgeon-like concentration. The fit was tight and they would need lube if
he was going to go for a third finger.
Liam massaged Zayn's hip with his free hand as he worked his fingers back and
forth. He pulled them out and stood, yanking Zayn around and kissing him before
he sat him on the desk. Zayn's hand darted between Liam's legs, squeezing his
dick. Liam moaned and grabbed Zayn's wrist.
“Careful. I want to get you properly prepared.” He parted Zayn's thighs and
stepped between them, pulling him to the very edge of the desk. “This time I
won’t be able to stop – you’ll have to take all of me.”
“Need to see it again.” Zayn was pouting. Liam reached for the front of his
trousers where his erection tented the material. He undid the button and
paused. Zayn huffed out a breath of irritation. “Just take it out already.”
Liam dropped his hands from his crotch. “We're getting you prepped. Let’s focus
on that.”
“We can do that too while you’re- just-” Zayn reached for Liam's zipper, trying
to pull it down. Liam brushed his hands away and in a swift move, he pulled
Zayn over his shoulder, carrying him in a fireman’s lift to the bed. He dropped
Zayn face-down in the centre of the bed.
“Keep that lovely bottom up.” Liam got onto the bed, mattress dipping under his
knees. Zayn was obviously thinking of turning around and Liam made a tsking
noise. “Hands and knees for you.” He patted Zayn's arse. And it was a lovely
arse; the statement he had made had contained no artifice. “Stay there while I
get the lube.”
He crawled to the nightstand and looked for the lube. It was nowhere in sight.
He looked on the floor and found it. When he got back to the centre bed, Zayn
was still where he had left him. Liam poured lube onto his palm and rubbed it
onto his fingers. Zayn had to be tacky with the stuff if he was to take Liam.
Not that Liam was hung like a porn star or anything, but he was pretty big, and
Zayn is a virgin. Was a virgin? All he knew was that there would be no
uncertainty to that statement when they were through this time. He eased his
index and middle finger into Zayn, moving them in and out rhythmically. He
would make this feel good to Zayn, even if they had to keep at it all night. He
wished he could see Zayn’s face and gauge if he was succeeding, but it was too
late to shuffle Zayn around.
“How’s that?” Liam crooked his fingers.
“I feel pressure – it’s not bad,” Zayn replied.
To ease some of the ache in his trousers, Liam rubbed his groin against Zayn's
hips. When all that did was remind him how badly he wanted to get his cock
free, he stopped and reached for his zipper with his free hand, releasing his
dick so he could stroke himself while he fingered Zayn. 
“How about we continue this with my dick?” Liam whispered.
“Okay,” Zayn said. Liam eased his fingers carefully out of Zayn and Zayn
immediately turned around, reaching for Liam's dick.
“I love touching you like this.” Zayn stared down at his hand as he jerked Liam
off.
“I think I can teach you to enjoy bottoming,” Liam said. Although now wasn’t
the time to be making big declarations, seeing how he couldn’t think
coherently. “First - you’re going to help me get ready to fuck you,” Liam said.
“Grab the lube.” Zayn picked up the bottle. “Pour it onto your hands. Be
generous. Massage it onto- fuck, yeah, just like that.”
Zayn used both hands on him, slicking Liam's dick from the root to the tip
until it glistened. Without preamble, Zayn threw the lube aside and straddled
Liam, Liam's erection nudging his arse.
“Can we do it like this?” Zayn asked.
“Yes.” Liam helped Zayn settle over him, before he nudged at the slick entrance
with his cock. “Second - sit down on my cock. Nice and easy does it.”
Zayn nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. He supported himself on Liam's shoulders as
he slowly, started to slide down. As Liam’s cock entered him, Zayn's eyes
closed, his lips parting. Liam glanced down to where their bodies met.
 “Almost there. Don’t tense up.” It was killing Liam to keep so still. He
gripped the duvet. “Just breathe and take me in.”
Slowly, Zayn sunk down until, at long last, Liam was in him to the hilt. They
stayed like that for a moment then Zayn rose, shifting on Liam’s cock. He
leaned back, one hand falling onto the mattress, his other hand curling around
his stiff cock.
“How's that?” Liam slowly thrust upwards.
Zayn twisted his hips experimentally, his erection bouncing on his belly as he
rode Liam's cock. “I feel full. Like you’re everywhere.”
“Third - try stimulating your prostate gland externally.” Liam’s voice was
wrecked. God, Zayn had to stop moving his hips that way. It made Liam want to
throw him on all fours and fucking drill into him. Shit, now he was the one
that needed to take some calming breaths. “Press your fingers to your
perineum.”
Zayn balanced himself with one hand and used the other to massage his perineum.
Liam bucked his hips up just a bit. This wasn’t bad. In fact, it was insanely
good. Seeing Zayn's cock bouncing around was erotic as hell.
“You're taking it so well,” Liam said. Liam placed his hands on Zayn's hips,
stilling his languid motions. When Zayn opened his eyes, they were unfocused.
“Do you think you can come like this?” Liam asked.
Zayn dropped his head and leaned forward, brushing their mouths together.
“Yeah,” he said. He bit down on Liam’s bottom lip and whispered, “I need to
feel you come inside of me.”
Liam’s eyes involuntary closed and he thrust up into Zayn once and came, his
orgasm totally blindsiding him. He hadn’t even known he was close. Above him,
he felt Zayn moving and he opened his eyes to see; Zayn was tugging at his own
cock as he rocked back and forth on Liam’s dick, wincing slightly.
 Liam gathered his faculties. He sat up, placing his hands on Zayn’s hips,
getting ready to pull out so his cock wasn’t an invasive log. When Liam reached
to hoist Zayn off, Zayn shook his head.
“I’m okay,” Zayn said.
“You’re wincing.”
“That’s because your dick is massive.”
 “Let me-”
“I said I could come like this and I can.” Zayn slid up before grinding down.
Liam reclined back on the bed, watching Zayn, who looked like he was
concentrating on solving a very complex mathematic equation.
His eyes were narrowed into tiny slits, his slim chest heaving. The blunt, red
head of his cock was appearing and disappearing in his right fist while his
other hand was curled beneath his testicles, pressing up to his perineum. When
Zayn’s breathing became erratic, Liam sat up and covered Zayn's hand with his
own, wringing Zayn's orgasm out of him.  
Apart from his heavy breathing, Zayn was silent, continuing to squeeze his cock
until the last spurts ceased. Once Zayn’s orgasm had subsided, Liam lifted
Zayn’s hips and pulled out of him, laying Zayn on his side. He kissed Zayn on
the mouth. His beautiful Zayn.
“That was amazing,” Zayn said when the kiss ended. He looked up at Liam,
smiling shyly before he reached down and curiously felt between his own legs.
“Are you sore?” Liam asked.
 “I feel weird. Um, loose,” Zayn said. He parted his thighs and hitched his
hips up.
“What are you doing?” Liam asked when Zayn made a frustrated noise.
“I'm trying to find that spot you were hitting earlier.” Zayn frowned, the
veins on his neck straining. “Do it again. Please.”
Liam crawled on his belly down the bed, positioning himself in between Zayn's
parted knees. He inspected him. Zayn had his right index finger in himself.
Liam reached for Zayn's hand and pulled it free so he could have an
unobstructed view. Zayn’s hole was a mess, covered in lube and come slowly
dripping out of it.
“You just came a second ago,” Liam said.
“I want more.” Zayn hiked his hips up insistently. Liam felt around Zayn's rim,
how slick and swollen he was. He eased a finger into him. Zayn reached down for
his own cock, cupping it as his knees parted further. “Feels good,” Zayn
whispered.
Liam leaned down and licked the come that was on Zayn's lower belly before
nudging Zayn's hand off his flaccid dick. Once he had access he drew Zayn's
dick in his mouth, sucking gently. 
“Hmmmm.” Zayn's hands dropped on either side of Liam's head and he sighed when
Liam eased another finger into him. “How many other boys have there actually
been?”
Liam pulled off Zayn’s cock. “Just two.”
“Louis and who else?”
“Harry.”
“You slept with him?”
“I wanted to.” Liam focused on Zayn’s prostate. He didn’t want to talk about
Harry and Louis when he was touching Zayn like this. He saw that Zayn’s cock
was now stiff, pointing upward to his belly button. “How are you hard again?”
“You really, really turn me on. I can't get enough.” Zayn reached down and
cupped his own cock. Liam scissored his fingers, feeling his come inside of
Zayn. He glanced at the erection Zayn was cradling.
 “Are you going to take care of that?”
Zayn shook his head slowly. “Not yet.” He licked his lips. “I like being on the
edge, close to coming, but stopping. When I started wanking myself, I was at
McEllan. Because we share rooms, there was never any extended periods of
privacy.” Liam slipped a third finger into Zayn and heard Zayn's breath hitch.
“And when I wanked I had to make it quick. Just get it over with. I'd look
forward to going home, knowing I could draw it out, take my time.” Liam thrust
hard into Zayn and he gasped, gripping his dick at the base. He opened his eyes
and glanced down at Liam. “I've learnt to appreciate a slowly drawn out wank
session.” He tugged at his cock once before letting it go. “I wish you would do
me again.”
“I'm done for the night,” Liam said. Even if he wasn't spent, he wouldn't fuck
Zayn again. Not when Zayn’s hole was swollen, blushing a scarlet shade. It
would hurt like hell in the morning if Liam slid his thick cock once again into
Zayn this night. “I thought you said you wanted to learn.” Liam withdrew his
fingers from Zayn's body. “Give me your right hand.”
Zayn let go of his dick and placed his hand on Liam's palm. Liam adjusted
Zayn's fingers, folding them all down apart from the right index finger which
he took into his mouth, getting it wet - not that Zayn needed any more
slickness as he was drenched with a come and lube combination. Zayn was
watching him, his eyes glinting. Liam licked down Zayn's finger and spoke.
 “You're now familiar with this part.” He guided Zayn's hand to his hole and
pushed Zayn's index finger in. “You're not sensitive to prostate stimulation so
finding your prostate takes some work. The best way is to crook your finger and
press up.” Liam released Zayn's hand and watched him as he pressed deeper
inside himself.
“Yeah, I can feel it.” Zayn retreated his finger and thrust it back in. “I
don't know why I didn't earlier.”
“First timer’s nerves.” Liam watched as Zayn pressed in and retreated. Zayn's
cock twitched on his stomach. Liam reached for it, squeezing it lightly. “When
you're ready, you can insert another finger.”
“You ever use toys?” Zayn asked.
“Like dildos?”
“Yes.”
“Not on myself.” Sophia had a sex toy that a mate of hers had gifted her one
Christmas. Occasionally Liam had used it on her. He and Louis hadn't ever used
any sex props, neither had he used any with any other people he had random sex
with when he was at uni. “Why? Do you think you'd like to? In the future?”
Zayn nodded. His hips rose off the bed as he worked his fingers inside of
himself. “I'd like you to do things to me.” He threw his arm up and bit into
his own bicep.
“What kind of things?” Liam brushed his hands on Zayn's thighs, spreading them
even wider.
“Tie me down. Fuck me.” Zayn moaned. Liam reached for Zayn's dick, stroking
him. Zayn thrust into Liam's hands. “I think I'd like you to blindfold me. Take
me somewhere and fuck me in public.” His chest was flushed and he was panting.
“Anything.”
“I keep saying that that's a dangerous statement.”
“It’s still true. Anything you could give to me, I would take. I want it all.”
“What if I wanted it rough? Fucked you hard for days and didn’t let you come?”
“If that's what you wanted.” Zayn pressed his fingers further into himself. He
hissed when Liam squeezed his hand around his cock.
“I want a lot of things that are bad for me. Bad for you too.”
“I don't care.” Zayn fucked himself faster. His head was now thrown back, his
graceful neck exposed. “I'm so close.”
Liam worked both his hands on Zayn, massaging his cock, “Give it up for me.”
Zayn bucked his hips wildly, his mouth fell open, and his dick spasmed,
releasing a dribble of come. He literally had no come left in him. Liam milked
his cock. “There, there.”
Zayn fell back on the bed, withdrawing his fingers from his body. He looked
down at Liam, who was between his legs, stroking his cock. “Come up here and
kiss me.”
“Demanding, are we?” Nonetheless, Liam let go of Zayn's dick and crawled up the
bed, kissing him on the mouth. Zayn hummed contently. He reached up and pulled
Liam down on top of him. They snogged like that for a while before Liam got off
him to lay beside him, pulling Zayn flush against his body.
Before he could stop himself, Liam said, “I don't want it to be this night
only. I can’t let you go.” Liam looked at Zayn, who was watching him keenly.
“But I have to. It’s the right thing to do. I shouldn’t have slept with you.”
“If you didn't want this to happen, why did you come to the hotel?”
“I thought the letter was from someone else.”
Zayn frowned. “Who?”
“My wife, Sophia,” Liam said. “She had a private investigator following me and
he knows about us. Or he thinks he knows. It doesn't look good. She's been
sitting on the information for a while and I thought she finally wanted a face-
to-face and be my judge, jury, and executioner.” He brushed his nose against
Zayn's. “If she goes to the police, I’ll probably be arrested.”
“No.”
“Very likely. And I’d deserve it. The things I've done-” Liam sighed. “If I
have to be put away, at least I'll know what it's like to be with you.”
“I don't want you to go to prison.” Zayn burrowed his face in Liam's chest.
“Zayn, if this is all there ever is, I want you to know I didn’t sleep with you
for the money.” Liam reached for Zayn's chin and held his face up, staring into
his eyes. “I care about you.” Zayn covered his face with his hands, his
shoulders heaving. “Hey, don't be upset, I’ll tear up the cheque, but I need to
know where you got the money from.” When Zayn dropped his hands Liam saw that
he was laughing. “What did I say that was so funny?”
“About that cheque – it might bounce if you try to cash it right now.” Zayn
scrunched his face. “Actually, it willbounce.”
“It’s a forge?”
“No. I do have the money, but I only have access to it when I turn eighteen.”
Zayn studied Liam’s face. “Are you cross with me?”
“No.” Liam pulled Zayn into his arms. “I’m kind of impressed that you’d be so
creative.”
“I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?”
“How did you manage to get away from school?”
“I lied to Ms. Mundy and told her that I had to leave for the weekend because
there was a family emergency,” Zayn said. “I’m not proud of myself. I couldn’t
let any more time pass without- it had to be now.”
“I’m glad that you went through all of this,” Liam said. He glanced at his
watch. It was 3AM. They still had some time before dawn. “What time do you
check out?”
“I booked the room for the entire weekend.”
 “Is that so?” Liam whispered.
Zayn kissed Liam before he pulled away and said, “Do you want to stay here with
me?”
Liam didn’t think twice. “Yes.”
                                      ***
Weeks later, Liam was doing some mid-week grocery shopping at Blue Ridge Mall.
Even after all these months shopping for himself, he still found he always
managed to forget an item or buy too much of another item, only to have it wilt
and rot in the fridge. He pushed the trolley into the lift, heading down to the
mall’s underground parking.
He thought about Zayn. They were actually an item and he was still teaching at
McEllan. They hadn’t had full on sex since they left the Ritz - just a quick
groping session in a supply closet and a risky blowjob in the new gymnasium
locker room. They chatted in the evenings on the Nokia, Zayn giving him updates
as to how his studies were going and how he was feeling. For the first time in
months Liam felt happy. He hadn't thought that it was possible what with –
"Sophia," Liam said when the lift opened and presented his wife to him.
"Hello, Liam," Sophia said. In a trance-like state, he stepped out of the lift,
mutely allowing her to kiss both his cheeks. "You look pale," she observed when
she pulled her away.
"I-" He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Didn't Dale tell you to wait for my summons?"
"He did." Liam had convinced himself during that night at the Ritz that maybe
that summoning wouldn't arrive until months in the future. He'd lowered his
guard. He'd slept with Zayn, and wasn't that the smoking gun that Sophia
needed.
"Follow me," she said. Her stiletto heels were loud on the parking lot tarmac.
Liam pushed the grocery trolley behind her, trailing her to a black Mercedes
where she climbed into the back. She glanced at his shopping trolley. “Put that
in your car and come back.”
Liam rolled the trolley to his car and loaded the bags of grocery in the boot
before he locked the car and climbed into the Mercedes. He climbed in, sitting
beside her. He expected to see Dale in the driver’s seat, but it was one of the
Smith & Son drivers dressed in livery as if it were Edwardian London. The man
looked into the rear view mirror.
"Where to, ma’am?" He asked in a bourbon smooth voice.
"My father's penthouse," Sophia answered.
"Sophia," Liam began.
"Let’s not," she said. She glanced out the window as the car began to move. It
eased out of the artificially lit basement and onto the street. It was just
after lunch time and the traffic was easy flowing.
Her father’s penthouse, she had said. Liam wondered if Stephen would be there.
He could already see the smug delight on the man's face when he wrung Liam out.
He would be pleased to have him thrown in jail. He would gather Sophia into his
arms and place kisses on her cheeks, telling her she had done well.
Liam wondered if the police had been called already. This would devastate his
parents. He could already see his mother crying, his father wondering where
they had gone wrong. They would be hounded by journalists, every move monitored
as the press crucified them. It was all Liam's fault.
The drive to the city was a blur and Liam was lost in his thoughts as the
suburban houses gave way to two-lane carriage ways and sleek business parks.
The Mercedes pulled up to a smart apartment complex.
"Ma’am, we've arrived," the driver said.
"Thank you, Wilfred." Sophia opened the door and stepped out. Liam followed her
through the lobby and into the elevator.
They entered the lavish entrance of the penthouse. Liam trailed after Sophia.
She deactivated the alarm and placed her purse on the table by the door and
took off her winter coat. Something about the way she moved reminded him of
that night she had invited him upstairs and how he’d stepped over the
precipice, becoming hers.
She walked to the ceiling-to-floor windows, looking out to the city. Her arms
were folded, her hair loose by her shoulders.
“I feel like I should’ve known,” she said. He walked across the room to stand
beside her. The view was spectacular; Westminster Bridge and the Thames glinted
in the anaemic midday winter sunlight. People were walking, down far below.
Like ants, they milled, bundled in bright winter coats and jerseys.
It used to give Liam a sense of superiority being up so high, feeling like he
was above it all - above the plebs as Sophia and her friends named them. The
callused-palmed, brawly working class.
“I made sure you wouldn't,” he replied. She turned to him, her eyes serious.
“I've considered various ways of making you pay,” she said. He did not doubt
her for a second.
“And what have you decided?”
“There were so many options. Handing the files to the Scotland Yard and have
them haul you by the handcuffs to a prison.” Her smile was a grimace that bared
pearly white teeth. “It would have given me great satisfaction knowing that you
were locked in a tiny jail cell, wasting your life like I had in this sham of a
marriage.”
“It wasn't all a sham,” Liam said.
“Do you mock me by feeding me more lies?” Sophia threw her hair over her
shoulder and walked away. “The entire thing was a sham.”
 “You pursued me.”
“And you were so spineless that you would be dragged down the aisle into a
forced marriage? I doubt it. You wanted status. Wealth. And I wanted you. It
was as simple as that. I was just the fool who allowed myself to think that you
actually cared for me.”
Liam walked to the sofa and sat. “What have you decided?” He asked once more.
“There was the option of telling my father. He's always loathed you. These
little indiscretions would be the exact type of collateral he needed to bury
you.” She gazed into the distance, a vague smile on her lips as if she was
watching this option play out in front of her on a film projector. She shook
her head, killing the fantasy. “But my father has always prided himself on
teaching me lessons and this titbit of information would have given him too
much to hold above my head. This plan certainly wouldn't do. It wouldn’t do at
all.”
Liam bit his tongue as the urge to tell her to just spit it out became too
strong. Sophia had always like spinning a story and having his undivided, rapt
attention. She would tell him when she felt like telling him. She must have
sensed his impatience because she walked to the sofa opposite to the one he was
sitting on and sat. She regarded him.
“I would have loved to make you feel the pain I felt when Dale uncovered all
those files you had on Zayn Malik, but I feel that would be a waste of time on
my part. You're a cold, heartless predator. You preyed on my need to be loved
and used me. You drugged me.” His expression must have changed because she
raised a brow. “Yes, Liam. I now know what your late night activities in the
study were all about. You had no intention of fathering my child. Thank
goodness, because I don't want to have children with you, not anymore.” She
adjusted her pencil skirt and linked her hands.
“I tried for months to get more hard hitting evidence. Your laptop was not
chock full of child pornography. The files on Zayn Malik were so
circumstantial. But then one day it came to me. Louis. I always knew there was
something not right about your friendship with him, but I just assumed he was
your dealer.”
She paused, studying her nails. They would be perfect. She had a beautician
come out every two weeks to fill in the gel. Liam tried to remember the last
time he’d seen her nails bare. He realised maybe he never had.
Sophia sighed. “Unfortunately my ace in the hole, Louis, wouldn’t agree to
testify against you even when I offered him a substantialamount of money,”
Sophia said. “So the sexual misdemeanour charges I could raise against you
wouldn't stick. And because my father was instrumental in you getting that
teaching job at McEllan, I can't force that child, Zayn Malik, to come forward.
Although, Dale told me he had spoken to another child who would be keen to say
you molested him.”
Liam frowned. “Who?”
Sophia smiled coldly. “Max Grant-Whitfield. He's lying, I know. He was way too
eager to talk money. Plus, he would have been sixteen when the alleged
molestation occurred and he's not exactly sympathetic to a would-be jury.”
Sophia leaned forward. “This is what I've decided. You have no say on the
matter and it is not up for negotiation, you hear me?”
“Yes,” Liam said.
“Sign the divorce papers and never darken my doorstep ever again,” Sophia said,
slowly and deliberately.
“And?” Liam prompted.
“That look on your face tells me I’ve done the right thing. Six years I’ve
wasted on you, thinking I could make you love me. You’re not worth another
second of my life. Karma is a bitch and she will get you eventually.” Sophia
drew in a deep breath, exhaling. “God, I feel better already. Liam, all this
time you’ve imagined that I’m this entitled, awful person. This gift, this
random act of kindness, is to show you that you were wrong. I am worth loving -
and Sam and Steve were right, I can do so much better than you. Revenge is so
pedestrian anyway.” She gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders. “I’ve asked Dale
to bury everything he found on you. Our final divorce papers are on the table.
Sign them.”
Liam stood and walked to the table, skimming through the document before he
initialled each page at the bottom corner. He signed his full name on the last
one.
“I guess that's all there is.” She stood, smoothing non-existent wrinkles on
her skirt. She sashayed up to him. “Have a terrible life, Liam Payne.” She
kissed him hard on the mouth, biting down on his bottom lip. She pulled back.
“I trust you know your way out.”
Liam nodded. “Goodbye, Sophia.”  
He wanted to say more. She might be something else, but she wasn't evil. She
was just spoiled and mean-spirited, like a high school girl, but there were
much, much worse people in the world. The years he had spent with her hadn't
been all bad. Sure, he’d felt emasculated and suffocated, but they’d had some
good times, the two of them. Too bad he hadn't known it at the time. In a weird
sort of way, he thought he would miss her.
She threw her hair over her shoulder, looking away. “Leave before I change my
mind.”
Liam nodded at her and left the penthouse. He paused outside the door before
pressing an ear to it. From the other side of the heavy wood, he heard her
sobbing.
                                        
***** Chapter 16 *****
It was an ordinary, spring day when it all finally went to hell.
Liam knew he should not have become comfortable. He knew that it couldn't be as
easy as that - getting to keep his job, while still being able to be with Zayn.
It felt too good to be true. Turned out that it was.
Liam was in his class after school, in no big hurry to leave. It was a
Wednesday and although the term was almost over, the work continued to pile up.
The school aggregate had dropped and Dunne wasn't pleased. If parents were
paying extortionate school fees for their children to attend McEllan, said
children should be guaranteed entry into top universities such as Oxford and
Cambridge. Hell, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton were certainly not out of the
question. The McEllan stamp of approval meant guaranteed admission. Or, it once
had.
The current Year 10s were struggling to complete the course, the Easy A of
yester-year almost seeming like a dream. And, upon Dunne’s request, he was
shuffling marks to struggling students, giving them an extra push where needed.
It was a dirty business, but he had no room to disagree.
His classroom door opened and he heard lone twin footfall signalling someone
was walking down the hall. He sipped his now cold coffee and looked up
expectantly. When Zayn appeared, Liam smiled, putting down his mug.
“Aren't you supposed to be in study hall?” Liam asked when Zayn walked in.
“I'm bunking off. I told Mr Richard I wasn't feeling well and needed to go take
a lay down. He said I could leave.” Zayn pushed the door shut and reached for
his tie, tugging it loose. He looked happy; he had a bounce in his step and his
hair was dishevelled as if he had run to the Phypher Building. The blazer was
next, shrugged off and thrown on a random desk. “As you can see, I'm fighting
fit.”
Zayn was grinning as he reached to unbutton his school shirt. Liam watched in
bemusement. Zayn had always been so serious, with a heaviness to him, and Liam
didn't want to break the spell. He got up from his chair and went around his
desk, meeting Zayn in front of the class.  
“As much as I'm enjoying this striptease, we can't,” Liam said.
“Ever since the Ritz, I’ve been fantasizing about us doing it in class.” Zayn
reached for Liam's trousers. “How about we turn the fantasy to reality?”
Liam caught Zayn's hand just before it grazed his groin. He brought it to his
lips, placing a kiss to each of Zayn's fingers. In between the kisses, he
spoke.
 “Zayn, I will love you until there's no air left in my lungs. Anything you
want, I will try to give to you. But we can't do this here.” In his classroom.
Like a parody of the totally illegal sex he'd had with Louis.
 “I don't want to cheapen us like that. We're better than this.” Liam pressed
Zayn's hand to his chest, right over his heart, drawing Zayn in for a lingering
kiss. “Go to your room, touch yourself, and think about me,” he whispered when
he pulled away.
Zayn laughed. “If you insist.”
 He walked to the desk and picked up his blazer, shrugging it on. Next was his
tie. When it was pulled on straight, Zayn winked at Liam and walked out. Liam
watched him disappear before he sat down at his desk to finish the mark
reallocation exercise. He was in such a good mood that some lucky student went
from having a D to a B+.
                                  *** *** ***
The good mood barely lasted ten minutes.
He heard stomping footfall down the hall. Someone threw his classroom door
open. Liam looked up.
“Alice, what's wrong?” Liam asked when she slammed the door close behind her,
stalking towards him. Her blue eyes blazed, her pale blonde hair fanning out
over her shoulders. In her right hand, she held a stack of papers. She threw
them on his desk.
“It bothered me when I found that tie at your house. I kept wondering: who’s
ZAP? I mean, there aren't any students who have those initials, are there?”
Alice’s voice bellowed. “But then I was marking the spring finals and noticed
something on the back of one of the question papers. Zayn always doodles
everywhere. Right there, etched in pencil; ZAP. That tie belonged to Zayn.”
Liam couldn't look at her anymore, so he stared down at the question papers she
had tossed on his desk. On the back of one of the pages he saw Zayn’s familiar
handwriting and ZAP drawn in huge block letters. There was also a cartoon
character sketched. He had a beard, wore a cape and tights, and the name
‘Captain B.M.’ was emblazed on his chest with a pink highlighter. BM –
birthmark.
 Zayn had joked once that if Liam was a superhero that would be a great name
for him. Liam had pointed out that having such a prominent, telling feature as
part of his name wouldn’t help conceal his real identity. Zayn had thought for
a moment before saying that he should initial it and that way it could stand
for anything. Like Captain Badass Motherfucker. Or Captain Bowl Movement, Liam
had offered. Zayn had laughed at that.
Liam’s heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't speak as he waited for Alice
to reach the right conclusion.
“But then I thought, so what? The students are always leaving their belongings
all over the school. You probably did pick it up somewhere. I was content with
that explanation for a long while, but then Patricia had to ask me to pick up
some files for her. When I was in her class, I happened to look out the window,
just to check up on you because I’m an idiot who always has a terrible taste in
men. I see that you’re not alone. You’re with Zayn. And Zayn is taking his
blazer off. Right before you kiss him.”
Liam could kick himself. How could he have forgotten? The Phypher and
Shallcross buildings were twins, overlooking one another over the courtyard.
He'd known this. But the joy of seeing Zayn after they had been apart for so
long had clouded his better judgment.
“How could you? He's a student and he’s so young.” She paused, realisation
dawning on her stricken face. “Finland. You shared a room with him. I'm going
to be sick.” She leaned on his desk, pale hand gripping the edge. Liam reached
for a waste bin in case she did throw up, but she leaped backwards. “All this
time- I trusted you.” She shook her head and stomped out.
Liam didn't go after her.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam walked to his residence, his heart heavy in his chest. As he unlocked the
front door, he heard the landline phone ringing. He put his bag down and leaned
against the wall as he answered it.
“Is it true?” Margaret asked.
“Yes.” Liam pressed his knuckles to his forehead.
“He's just a child.” Margaret’s voice was choked on the other end of the line.
“A, lonely, unloved child.” She composed herself. “I actually rang his mum the
other day, so fed up with her, I was. Gave her a proper tongue lashing - every
single bad thing I've thought about her came out. She was crying when I was
done. And you know what she said? They brought Zayn to McEllan because his
father had been receiving death threats for a political film he had done in the
late nineties. After a petrol bomb went off on their front doorstep, they sent
Zayn here to be safe and for him to have a semblance of childhood. I have
failed that family.”
Margaret began to weep, deep racketing sobs that made Liam feel like shit. He
didn't speak; he knew she didn't want to hear him right now. She hung up
suddenly and he listened to the dial tone before retrieved his phone, and typed
out a message to the Nokia. Two words: They know. He walked to his room,
switched his mobile off just in case Zayn tried to call him and threw himself
onto his bed.
He barely slept that night.
                                  *** *** ***
The next morning he dressed and instead of heading to his classroom, he walked
to the admin building. He wasn't surprised to find Alice and Margaret there,
seated outside Dunne's office. Miss Ackerman was on the phone, but she gestured
for him to go right straight through. He didn't look at the two women, reminded
of Howard Prep when he'd been called into the Head Teacher's office and Harry
and his mother had been sitting stone-faced outside. Liam knocked on the door
and when a voice called “come in”, he stepped inside.
Dunne was seated behind his desk, almost engulfed by a mountain of files he had
on it. “Take a seat, Mr Payne,” he said.
Liam sat down and waited. Dunne regarded him over his glasses.
“Those two girls sitting outside my office aren't happy with you,” Dunne began.
“I want you to know-”
Dunne raised his hand, cutting Liam off. “Save it. I know what's happened here.
It happens all the time. Just the other day, Belcher was in here complaining
about students sex-texting in her class. If it's not that, it's those nudie
magazines, hidden in mattresses and in the lockers.” Dunne shook his head in
disgust.
“The problem with the youth of today is that they're too oversexed - all that
MTV and internet has corroded any sense of decency in them. Females have a
difficult time understanding that these students aren't like you and I. They
are devoid of class. Especially that Malik boy. Max was in my office just a few
months ago telling me how that boy made sexual advances to him in a bathroom at
the Valentine’s Formal two years back. Queer as a nine bob note, that boy is.”
Dunne leaned over his desk and lowered his voice co-conspirator low.
 “And you're a good looking bloke, so when you’re teaching in class, that boy
is sitting there, watching. Getting certain ideas.”
 Liam’s temple throbbed. If Dunne referred to Zayn as ‘that boy’ one more time-
“Just tell me he initiated the kiss and I will have him expelled so fast, his
head will spin.”
“What?” Liam blurted.
“Those girls out there have got their little drawers up in a twist alleging
you've been ‘molesting’ Malik. Hysteria, is what we called it in my day. We
both know these allegations are false. Let's nip this in the bud and get that
boy out of this school once and for all.” Dunne paused, obviously expecting
some sort of verbal affirmation from Liam.  
“Zayn didn’t do anything wrong- I initiated the kiss,” Liam said.
Dunne frowned. “I don't follow.”
“I tried to seduce Zayn. He rebuffed me. I'm at fault.” Liam hung his head.
“Punish me accordingly.”
“Punish you? Haven't you learned a bloody thing from the George Corrigan
debacle?  I don't want this sort of stink in my school. If this gets out, my
legacy will be one of a headmaster who let a boy get molested by a teacher
under his watch. I will not allow that.” Dunne slammed his fist on his table,
the files rattling. So much for wanting to ‘dig the rot out of McEllan’.
“I refuse!” Dunne shook his head, caught up in his own theatrics. “I knew I
would regret doing that favour for Stephen Smith. I knew it, but I gave you
this job nonetheless. Now I'm being punished for my greed.” Dunne stood up,
rummaging through his desk. “I want you off the premises by the end of the
school week. If you think you can blackmail me like you did last time, think
again. Because if those girls have their way, you will be waking up in a jail
cell tomorrow morning. Rather than blackmail, you will send me an email
explicitly stating that you've resigned with immediate effect. And, as always,
I'll clean up the mess, making sure those two birds don't yap their big gobs.”
He gave Liam a disdainful look. “Are you waiting to be told twice?”
Liam shook his head, rising to his feet. He silently walked passed Alice and
Margaret, hearing Dunne call them into his office. He arrived at his classroom
and typed his resignation email. It was almost word for word the one Zayn had
written for him. He was clearing out his desk when Mason Richard knocked on his
door.
“You’re leaving McEllan?” Mason asked. Word certainly got around fast.
Liam nodded.
 “So sudden.” The man may be genteel to a fault but he was no fool. He knew
something was amiss.
“I want to do some travelling,” Liam replied. Mason seemed gutted by the news,
but wished him au revoir regardless.
Patricia was next. Liam bounded across the courtyard to the Shallcross building
where he found her, alone in her class, marking.
He knocked once on her door. She looked up sharply, suspicion evident on her
face. Liam had never visited her before. “Yes?”
“Hello, Patricia. I've sent in my resignation letter.”
“Resignation letter?” she repeated as if the words were foreign.
“Yes, I’m leaving McEllan. I want to do some travelling.” The lie slipped out
easily from his lips. If he kept saying the words, he might make others believe
that the termination of his contract was not acrimonious.
She pushed her chair back, allowing the four heels to scrape cruelly on the
floor. “I guess one best does such things while they’re young enough to enjoy
them.” She regarded Liam. “You know, the first time I laid my eyes on you, I
had a funny sort of feeling run through me. My Nan - she had the eye, always
had a sense of things before they happened. She once said that I was most like
her of all her children and other grandchildren.” Patricia pulled out a
Woodbine and lit it up. Trust Patricia Belcher not to give a fuck about the
school’s no smoking indoors rule.
“These were her favourite. After the war, they were the only fags that could be
bought; although they cost and an arm and a leg.” She exhaled, thick clouds of
smoke enveloping her. “Something told me when I first saw you: ‘Watch this one.
He's trouble’”. She tipped the burning end of her cigarette on the ashtray.
“But nothing happened. I guess I was wrong. Have been wrong before. Friend of
mine, George- I thought he hung the moon. Turned out he was a devious pervert.
Haven't spoken a word to him since. But you, you're all right by me.”
Liam nodded. “Likewise, Patricia.”
He said goodbye to her and walked back to his classroom.
                                  *** *** ***
Liam managed to go through the paces, saying goodbye to his students as he
taught classes throughout the day. He had one more class to go before he would
be done. He was sitting at his desk, completing the HR paperwork that Miss
Ackerman had sent him. Provident fund and pension forms. Medical aid
termination letters. Tax forms. The paperwork seemed endless. He barely heard
the bell when it rung. After a while, he became aware of someone standing over
his desk. Liam knew even before he looked up that it was Zayn.
“Do you regret it?” Zayn asked.
“Not for a second.” Liam stood up, guiding Zayn to the door by the elbow. The
last thing Zayn needed was to be seen alone with him. Liam glanced at the
students that were milling outside the class and he lowered his voice. “Send me
a text. I just want to know that you’re okay. I love you.”
The first student walked in. Liam let go of Zayn’s elbow and stepped backwards,
opening up space between their bodies. There would be talk; rumours as to why
Liam had left so suddenly. He didn’t want Zayn’s reputation to be at risk.
Zayn was still staring at Liam, unmoving, barely breathing. He nodded once and
headed for the door.
                                  *** *** ***
That evening, Liam gathered all his personal artefacts in a box. He had called
a moving company and the rest of his things would be collected to be placed in
storage. He had his last paycheque in the bank, he had his car, and he had no
idea where he would go. His parents, perhaps - he hadn’t seen them in a while.
He’d crash there for a month or two. Then he’d see his sisters and maybe make
his way to Ireland and finally strike off the one item remaining on his list.
He locked up the house, climbed in his Corolla, and drove, watching McEllan
retreat in his rear view mirror.
                                  *** *** ***
In the middle of summer, Liam’s parents had a family event. Liam invited Zayn,
but didn’t introduce Zayn to them as his boyfriend. He saw the curiosity in
their eyes. The last person he'd brought home with him had been Sophia and he'd
married her a month later. Before her, there had been Danielle.
When Liam introduced Zayn as his mate to his father, he’d watched as his
father’s eyes took in Zayn's youthful face, the brand clothing Zayn was
wearing, and the expensive watch that was draped around his right wrist. Liam’s
dad had not said much and had just pointed Zayn to the cooler box where he
could get a drink. Whether it was alcoholic or not was entirely up to Zayn.
Zayn had taken a can of Sprite and lurked on the fringes of the party ever
since. This was a bad idea, Liam thought. He shouldn't have brought Zayn to the
barbeque. He was considering making up a cover story that he and Zayn had to
leave when his sister, Ruth, stepped up to him.
“He's not just a mate,” Ruth said.
Liam nodded.
Ruth sipped her cider, watching Zayn. “He's a bit young, isn’t he?”
Another nod from Liam.
“Is this why Sophia divorced you? Because of him?”
“Partially.”
Ruth sighed. “Dare I even ask how old is he?”
“He's not underage,” Liam said. But Zayn was 16 and looked it. God, what was he
even thinking? Were they really going to try and do this? What chance did they
have of making it?
“That's not an answer,” Ruth observed.
“It's the only one I'm giving you,” Liam responded.
“And what do his parents have to say about their teenage son dating an older
man?” Ruth asked. Liam's eyes slid away from hers. She punched him in the left
shoulder. “They don't know?”
“We'll tell them in a few years’ time,” Liam said.
 He and Zayn had decided that telling his parents right now would only raise
some ugly questions. When did Liam and Zayn become romantically involved? Why
did Liam suddenly resign at McEllan? Did Dunne and his staff know? They would
tell Zayn's parents once Zayn was in university and Liam, having been his
teacher, was something that had happened in the past.
The age gap between them was 13 years. In a few years, it wouldn't feel like
much. At least, that was what Liam kept telling himself. When he would be 40,
Zayn would be 27, the same age Liam had been when he first met Zayn. Maybe Zayn
would want to date people his own age then or he would want someone younger and
hotter. Liam shook his head, stopping that particular train of thought.
“Was he a student of yours?” Ruth asked.
“I'm not going to answer that,” Liam said.
“Christ, Liam.”
“Ruthie-”
“Don't 'Ruthie' me. You may be the baby of the family and get away with a lot
of shit, but this is certainly up there. A fuckin' cradle robber-”
“Lower your voice. You don't want to upset Mum.”
Her eyes blazed. “You upset Mum the instant you brought him here.” She finished
her cider and set the can on the table.
She huffed away, most likely to tell Nicola what she had just found out. This
reallywas a bad idea. Liam picked his beer bottle up by the neck and walked
across the backyard to sit on a lounge chair beside Zayn.
“Having fun?” Liam asked.
“I feel like everyone is staring at me.” Zayn fiddled with the Sprite's lid.
“They're wondering who you are,” Liam said. He leaned forward and whispered, “I
don't think they believed me when I said we were just mates.”
“I'm not going to say anything contradicting that,” Zayn said.
The party was getting loud, blaring a blend of 80s and 90s top ten tunes. Some
Spice Girls, The Police, Ace of Base, and Mike and the Mechanics. It was nice.
Comfortable. It reminded him of family parties when he'd been a child. How did
he go half a decade without visiting back home? He nudged Zayn's knee with his
own, not caring if his family was watching them. Let them speculate.
 “How's your vacation been so far?” Liam asked.
Zayn gave a shrug. “My mum tried to spend time with me. We even had this son
and mother weekend away in Paris in the beginning of summer. It was nice. My
dad, on the other hand; things just feel strained. I know why he sent me to
McEllan. Ms. Mundy told me about the threats and assassination attempts on his
life. But still, it doesn't make it magically all right. He didn't have to be
such a twat all these past years.” Zayn sighed, throwing the metal can lid onto
the grass. “We're never going to be close. I may love him, but I don't want to
be around him.”
“Just give it time. And,” Liam imitated Justin Bieber and sang, “never say
never.”
Zayn laughed. “You sound just like Bieber - it’s uncanny.”
“Hey, maybe I've found a new career; becoming a Justin Bieber impersonator,”
Liam joked.
Job front things weren’t looking so great. He’d moved into a flat down the road
from his parent's place. It was also a five minute drive from the dump he had
been staying at when he had met Sophia, during his time as a La Plur waiter. He
was right back at the start. Twenty eight years old and he had no idea what he
was going to do with his life.
“Now I would pay to see that,” Zayn said. Nicola and Ruth exited the house,
carrying cartons of food.
“Supper's ready!” Ruth called.
Liam and Zayn stood and walked to the table that had been decked out. His mum
and dad were already seated, whispering sweet nothings to one another. Nicola's
fiancé was tending the barbeque, flipping the sizzling meat over. Liam sat down
and Zayn sat beside him. His mum insisted they pray and everyone linked hands,
heads bowing as his father said a few words.
Liam squeezed Zayn's hand a few times. Once his dad was done with the prayer,
everybody started talking again, music blaring an old The Darkness tune: ‘Love
Is Only a Feeling’. This was his life. This was his family. He was lucky to be
here. He caught Zayn's eye, his breath catching in his throat when Zayn smiled
at him.
It didn’t matter what the future might hold because right now, things were
pretty all right. More than all right; fucking amazing.
***** Epilogue *****
Liam woke up early, lacing up his trainers before he darted out the front door
for his morning run. He wore a Nike thermal tracksuit. It was the best time for
a run; the sky was an orange purple, the sun slowly rising in the horizon.
He didn’t need to be at work until mid-morning. Chris would be in already,
cleaning out the gym before the morning customers arrived. Liam had been
working as a boxing trainer for the past year. It wasn’t the highest paying job
in the world, but he enjoyed it.
Liam took a route through the centre of town, up the hill, through the park,
and looped back on the main road. He heard the hum of a car approach and he
thought nothing of it until it pulled up alongside him in a lazy crawl. He
glanced at the vehicle and halted mid-step, almost tripping on his feet; the
vehicle was a brand new Bentley Continental GT. The tinted windows slowly
rolled down and revealed Zayn in the driver’s seat.
“Nice car,” Liam said.
Zayn pulled up just ahead of Liam and parked the Bentley. The driver's side
door opened and he stepped out, dressed in jeans and a Burberry coat. He sat on
the hood of the car as Liam jogged up to him.
“Thanks.” Zayn stared off into the distance.
“You look so pensive,” Liam sat on the hood alongside Zayn. He looked out into
the horizon. “What’s weighing that pretty head?”
“The future is calling.” Zayn pulled an envelope out of his jacket and handed
it to Liam. Liam opened the letter and read.
“You got into Cambridge!” Liam hugged Zayn, kissing his cheek.
“Congratulations. We must get pissed tonight.” He pulled away and saw the sad
look on Zayn’s face. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to be away from you,” Zayn said.
“Cambridge isn’t that far. It’s an hour’s train ride from Liverpool Street
Station,” Liam said. And once Zayn was at Cambridge University, they could be
more open about their relationship.
Zayn didn’t look convinced. “When was the last time you saw Louis?”
“A few weeks back,” Liam said. Zayn’s jaw tightened. “We’re just friends. The
other stuff stopped a long, long time ago.” He ran his fingers across Zayn’s
mouth, trying to coax a smile from him. “I’ll miss you like hell when you’re at
uni, but I will visit. My hours are pretty good. Plus, when I’m there, I’ll
make it up to you.”
Zayn finally smiled. “Yes, you certainly will.” He stepped to his full height
and leaned towards Liam. Liam kissed him in reply, running his hand over Zayn’s
buzz cut.
“I’m not sure I like your hair this short,” Liam said.
“You have no say in the matter,” Zayn retorted. “But in retrospect, getting a
brush cut in December was a bad idea. My scalp feels exposed and cold all the
time.” Liam rubbed his hands on the back of Zayn's head, warming him up.
“Will you miss McEllan?” Liam asked.
“I've been at the school for almost a decade. That's a huge chunk of my life.
It's all I know.” Zayn gave a wry smile. “I know I'll miss the people, like Ms.
Mundy and Spencer. And Ms. Shapiro’s baking.”
“You'll make new friends who will last a lifetime. Uni's always good for
socialising.” Liam thought about campus life, how it would be full of people
Zayn's age. His horizons would be broadened and what if he realised that maybe
he didn't want to be in a relationship with someone 13 years his senior?
“Now you're the one who’s pulling a face.” Zayn looked at Liam, his brown eyes
imploring. “What's the matter, babe?”
Babe? That was new. Liam didn't think he had ever been anyone's babe before.
His mum had called him ‘dear’ and Danielle had said 'sweetie'. Louis’ favourite
term of endearment was 'old man'. Sophia had great affection for 'darling'.
Liam thought he liked babe. It could stay.
“And if you think you can placate me by saying 'nothing', we'll be having a
different conversation. So save me the run around and tell me what's on your
mind.” Zayn gave Liam's right shoulder an insistent nudge.
“I was just thinking that you'll be in university around your peers. What if
you meet someone else, someone your own age?” Zayn looked like he was about to
speak so Liam quickly added, “I mean, I'm not getting younger, and my best days
are probably behind me. And you're you - gorgeous. I wouldn't blame you if you
did meet someone else.”
“You think your best days are behind you? Really?” Zayn scrunched up his nose.
“You're 30, not 65.”
“You're 17.”
“18 in a few weeks. But let's not get distracted.” Zayn pressed his hands on
either side of Liam's cheeks. “I want you. I love you. Time isn't going to
change that. If I'm trusting you to commit to me, grant me the same courtesy.
Ten years from now, I want to be coming home to you every night. Okay?”
“But if you meet someone, promise me that you'll give it a chance. I don't want
to hold you back.”
“You’re not. The people I'll be studying with - they're still looking for that
special person to spend the rest of their lives with. I'm lucky because I
walked into his classroom when I was 14. I'm still incredulous that all of this
happened, but I would not change it, not for anything.” Zayn rubbed his cold
nose against Liam's. “I love you with all my heart. You're it, for me.”
Liam allowed the words to cradle him. “I love you too.”
Zayn hugged him, rubbing his hands back and forth on Liam's back. When he
pulled away, he shivered. “How about I give you a lift back and then you make
me a cup of hot chocolate?”
“Okay.” Liam climbed into the car, sitting up front in the passenger’s side.
Zayn started the Bentley and put the car into first gear before he zoomed down
the street, revving the engine and turning the locals’ heads. Show-off.
When they arrived at Liam's flat, he would make Zayn a cup of Nestlé hot
chocolate before they would curl next to each other on the futon bed with the
heater on full blast, chasing away the chill. They would talk about their
families; Nicola was expecting her first child, and his dad was going mental
because Nicola was yet to walk down the aisle with her fiancé of almost two
years. Zayn would tell Liam how his family vacation went and if his
relationship with his dad had improved.
Then the clock would strike 10AM and Liam would have to get dressed, heading to
the gym to train his first client for the day. He would kiss Zayn goodbye,
telling him he’d see him soon and that he would miss him the entire day. And
when he was done with his jiujutsu class and his evening clients, he’d return
home and Zayn would probably have fallen asleep on top of a pile of textbooks.
Liam would kiss him on the cheek and wonder how he had gotten so lucky.
                                    THE END
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!