There’s this bar. It’s large and crowded and dark, music loud enough that the bass reverberates through the bodies on the dance floor, loud enough that it’s hard to make conversation.

There’s this boy. Who moves through the crowd with ease, who always seems to wear a smile and who Zayn feels drawn to even when he’s never exchanged words with him. He’s wanted to, once or twice, but by the time he’d worked up the courage (or found it at the bottom of a few shot glasses) he’d never been able to find him in the swarm of people dancing.

There’s this bar and there’s this boy and there’s Zayn, on the sidelines, sipping from a beer and wondering if tonight’s the night he’ll finally gather the courage to speak to him before he loses sight of him.