Life With Mr. Malik (ON HOLD)

Chapter 2: Little Miss Not-So-Punctual

The next day, I woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the crackle of bacon. Ah, Saturday mornings. I’ve always loved Saturdays. It’s probably the only day when I get to sleep in and not give a damn about the time.

Wait a minute.

It’s Saturday.

I remember Zayn telling me something important, but I just can’t remember what. Something about a studio? And the lads? And something about a new song called Little Sphinx or something like that?

Then, it hit me.

Zayn had to be in the studio today and holy mother of potatoes, I was late.

 + + +

Panting, I barged in the café, earning dagger looks from a bunch of oldies who were trying to play solitaire. I ran to the counter where Matt, my brother’s best friend, stood with a readymade cappuccino in his hands. He handed it to me with a gentle smile, making my insides warm.

"Two Mocha Frappes to go." He said with a wink. 

“You literally saved my life,” I said, sliding the money to him. 

He dropped his gaze as he laughed, placing the bills inside the cashier. Resting his palms on the edge of the counter, he smiled at me. “Just stay out of trouble, alright?”

I grabbed the cups and made my way out. “No promises, Mattyboy!" 

As soon as I exited the cafe, I hailed a cab and got in, yelling for the cabbie to step on it! Of course, he glared at me and I had to let out the most adorable smile I could round up. I told him the address, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't make a comment on the address. More often than not, cabbies would go on and on about how rich the neighborhood is and I usually just keep my mouth shut because if I don't, I'd be blurting stuff that would make the Management bury me alive and probably dance on my grave as well.

"We're here," he said, putting the cab to a stop. 

"Thanks," I said as I stepped out. 

The moment my sneakers touched the ground, I hurriedly ran in the direction of Zayn's mansion, sweeping past the majestic houses. And being the clumsy person that I am, I bumped into a girl my age, spilling frappe on her jogging attire. She bounced her blonde curls and eyed me from my head to my toes. You didn't have to be an expert at reading body language to know that this girl is most likely murdering me in her thoughts right now.

"You just ruined my outfit. Do you even know how much this costs?" She shrieked.

"No, of course not." I said, securing the lid on the other mocha frappe that was supposedly mine but now had to be Zayn's. "Look, I'm really sorry. I was just in a hurry. I have to get to Z . . . my boss." I bit my lip, hating how his name almost slipped out of my mouth.

"Whatever, you're going to have to pay for this." She placed a fist on her hip.

"But, but, but." I said, feeling aggravated. "It's only a stain, for crying out loud! It will come right off! Just put some bleach on it. Oh, wait. Don't! That'd be a waste of bleach." My face lit up as I thought of a genius thing to say. "But you want to know what wouldn't be a waste of bleach?" I forced a smile that Zayn had once told me could get so annoying the longer you looked at it. "You drinking it."

That's right, sucker. Sassy Miles is back. 

She parted her lips, about to shoot a comeback when a man with thick, black hair in a leather jacket approached us. He stood next to me and after catching a whiff of his perfume, I instantly knew who he was. Trust me. I'd recognize that scent anywhere. Even in a garbage dump.