Under Summer Sky • Zarry

2. In charge

I was woken up from a deep sleep to a series of knocks on the front door of the guesthouse.

Groaning, I lifted my head off of the plush, down pillow and forced myself to sit up. Sunbeams streamed through the broad windows to my right and for a second I almost forgot where I was. I leaned over to check my phone and noticed that I had snoozed my alarm in my sleep three times and it was now half passed eight.

Shit, I over slept.

I heard the knocking again, much louder this time, as I jumped out of bed and grabbed my hunter green boxer shorts off the floor. I shuffled half nude towards the front door while rubbing my eyes in an attempt to wake myself up. When I opened the door Zayn was standing there in another pair of ripped blue jeans, tan work boots, and a long, over sized white t-shirt that read SOCIAL DISTORTION. He was holding a hot coffee cup in one tattooed hand and a bran muffin in the other.

"First day on the job and you're already late," he commented dryly, handing over the coffee and muffin to me as he shoved passed and made his way inside the guesthouse.

I was feeling groggy. "Sorry about that. Must have been really tired."

I took a sip of the coffee, realizing that it was completely black with no cream or milk in it, which was surprisingly just the way I preferred it.

"And thanks for the morning fuel," I went on, taking a bite from the bran muffin before resting it on the kitchen table.

"Yeah well this isn't exactly a good start for making it up to me, though. Now get some clothes on," he insisted while taking a seat on the sofa.

I thought he was acting like kind of a dick to me, but at the same time he also brought me breakfast.

Confusing.

I made my way back into the bedroom and trifled through my suit case for something to wear but it was taking longer than usual to decide on something. I didn't know why I cared so much about how I looked; I normally just put whatever on and went on my way, but there was something that was causing me to overthink way too much.

Wait, I needed cologne. I couldn't smell bad.

I heard him shout at me. "Some time in the next century perhaps?"

So I grunted under my breath to myself and moved quicker, lifting a white t-shirt over my head and layered it with short sleeve blue plaid shirt, slightly rolling up the sleeves on my arms. I slipped on a pair of tight black jeans and couldn't decide between my worn out brown chelsea boots or the vans, that was until I heard Zayn clear his throat impatiently, so I just put on the boots.

When I finally brushed my teeth and did a quick fix with my hair, even though it still looked a right mess, Zayn had stood up from the sofa and looked me up and down, shaking his head to himself while I grabbed the muffin and coffee.

"Are those...chelsea boots? Don't have anything more suitable like tims or trainers?" he asked me while I silently cursed myself for not going with the vans.

"I was hurrying and it's the first pair of shoes I saw," I lied.

I took another bite of the muffin in my hand and followed behind Zayn through the patio and around to the front of their house, where a golf cart was parked in the driveway.

"Alright then. Hop in," he commanded, settling into the driver's seat.

Zayn drove the golf cart down their long, narrow drive way while I downed my coffee and tried to perk up as quickly as I could. I glanced subtly at his side profile from the corner of my eye, noticing just how long his eye lashes were. Gemma always tried to curl hers and had to apply loads of mascara on to get them to look the way that Zayn's did naturally.