WANTED A FLING BUT IT'S A NIGHT

CHAPTER 4 (UNSPOKEN THINGS)

CHAPTER FOUR

Zayn stumbled into the room around 7:43 a.m., looking like sin and satisfaction rolled into one. His shirt was half untucked, lips kissed pink, and his curls were an absolute mess.

"You’re alive," he said, shutting the door with his foot. "Good. I thought you’d die in that party chaos. Heard someone fainted near the kitchen. Was it you?"

Asher didn’t smile.

Zayn paused. "Wait... what happened? You look like someone rewired your whole emotional system."

Asher sat on the bed, staring at the floor like it held answers.

Zayn threw his bag on the desk, narrowed his eyes, and dropped onto his bed. "Talk. Now."

So Asher did.

The party. The punch. The rat. The crowd. The crash. The guy in black. The car ride. The room. The night. The silence.

Everything—except the way his chest felt like it had been stitched with someone else's thread since morning.

When he finished, Zayn was quiet.

"He stayed the night?" he finally asked.

Asher nodded. "Didn’t touch me. Just... stayed. Slept. Then left."

Zayn stared at the ceiling. "That’s rare. Like, unicorn rare. So, who is he?"

"No idea. Didn’t even tell me his name."

Zayn let out a low whistle. "That’s some mysterious knight-in-leather-jacket shit."

Asher groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. "Don’t make it sound romantic. I don’t even know if it meant anything."

"Did it mean something to you?"

Silence.

Zayn smirked. "That’s a yes. Come on, lover boy. We have lectures. Let’s look alive."

---

By 9:00 a.m., they were dressed and walking toward the main campus, shoulder to shoulder. The sun was merciless, but the breeze was kind.

Asher clutched his backpack like a lifeline, his eyes scanning faces—hoping, maybe, foolishly.

Both of them were in the **Faculty of Arts**, studying **Media and Communication**. First year, fresher buzz still in their veins.

Zayn noticed.

"You’re looking for him."

Asher didn’t deny it.

"What would you even say if you saw him?"

Asher shrugged. "I don’t know. Maybe thank you again. Maybe... ask his name."

"Or maybe," Zayn said, bumping him lightly, "he’s waiting for you to look a little harder."

They reached the lecture hall just before the bell rang.

Rhett wasn’t there.

He wouldn’t be.

He belonged to a different world — somewhere across campus in the **Faculty of Law**, third-year, known for his sharp tongue in argumentation and colder stare in hallways.

But Asher didn’t know that yet.

Still, his heartbeat didn’t slow down all day.