1
XAVIER
“I am not a fucking babysitter!”
“Come on, Xav!” Zayn bellows through the bluetooth speaker of my latest Lamborghini purchase.
The car roars to life as I maneuver through the central London traffic, gritting my teeth. I exhale loudly, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each turn.
This is not how I anticipated my second week in London going—hiding from a one-night-stand-turned-stalker and driving around the English city looking for a teenage girl with a few loose screws.
“Tell him he owes you,” Bree, Zayn’s childhood sweetheart, long-term girlfriend, and hopefully never to be missus, whispers inconspicuously in the background.
Zayn mumbles something to her, and they argue back and forth for a few seconds. Nothing new.
I roll my eyes, hoping—no, praying he’ll soon wake up from whatever pussy voodoo she’s placed over his dick, and every ounce of common sense he has left kicks in. These are the team’s words, not mine.
“You owe me.” My best friend breathes into the phone as if he has a gun placed over his head. “Please.”
I need a drink to deal with this shit. I loosen my grip on the wheel, knowing my fate is already sealed.
Zayn isn’t someone who asks for help. The fact he’s doing so lets me know whatever is going on with his sister Sofia is pretty bad.
I veer the car to the right, looking for street corners to shorten my journey to the London Eye. Traffic this late from Central to South East London is usually tricky to navigate through. “Okay.”
“I knew I could count on you.” A smile tugs at the corners of my lips and fills my chest with warmth.
Zayn is family. Something I don’t have much of. So, saying no to him isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. And the asshole knows it.
I met Zayn in college over a decade ago. We didn’t immediately get along. I thought he was an entitled son-of-a-bitch, and we bumped heads and fists on more occasions than I would like to count.
I was a scholarship student from London, intent on proving to the world and my family I could make it and make something of myself. I worked my ass off while he seemed to have everything handed to him, even the role of Captain.
One evening, we got into a heated altercation after losing a home game. I was alone in a foreign country, dealing with some deep family shit, and didn’t know how to channel that anger correctly. I was angry at the world. Angry at myself. Angry that no matter how hard I tried, I was never enough.
We fought like headstrong egotistical brutes in front of the whole team. But that wasn’t enough for me. I went further, destroying the team’s locker room, pieces of equipment, and trashing anything I could get my hands on.
I was a wrecking ball, infamous for my anger. And it almost cost me everything. The scholarship, the community I had built for myself and my mind.
Fortunately, our coach at the time, Silas Dawson, liked me. He saw something in me I couldn’t yet see in myself. And instead of kicking me off the team, he gave me an ultimatum—sort my shit out or deal with the consequences alone.
I got the message loud and clear. I spent the next six months doing community service, being benched, and I was forced to attend anger management therapy.
One evening, while feeling sorry for myself and drowning my sorrows at a team function, Zayn joined me. We bonded over our love for hockey, pussy, and dysfunctional family dynamics—mine more than his. Several shots later, we came to a truce.
I soon came to realize that, yes, he was a son-of-a-bitch, but he also had many redeeming qualities. Zayn was giving, trustworthy, and loyal and would go out of his way to look after those he calls family.
From that day forward, we were inseparable. In the decade since, he’s saved my ass countless times.
“Give me a moment, baby,” Zayn says.
I know him well enough to hear the irritation in his voice.
A back-and-forth argument ensues between them, followed by a door being slammed. It doesn’t take a genius to know who walked out.
“You there?”
“Yeah.” He exhales. A hesitant silence follows, and for a moment, I’m hopeful he will tell me he’s planning to break up with her. Still, I know the likelihood of that is slim.
