[COMPLETED]
❝Of all the races I've started, loving him is the one I never want to finish.❞
In this re-imagination of my most popular story, Arielle Hawthorne is an illegal street racer, just like Zayn Malik. Zayn's egotistical, flirty, and a major p...
"It happens so suddenly. We are going about our own mundane tasks when—a phrase of music, a shaft of sunlight on a snowy roof, a handful of yellow butterflies, or the arc of a bird diving to the earth, pierces us. For one brief moment, we are lifted out of our daily routine into the untold realms of the unknown. Then the moment is gone. We are back on earth—but we are not the same."
— Unknown
A/N:
hello! I'm soooo sorry, if any of you got notified early that I posted an update! I accidentally posted when I was only partly done and didn't even realize it for a few minutes. if you happened to read the draft accidentally posted, please don't spoil anything that might happen in this chapter 😭
if you're still here, i'd appreciate some comments! i don't think there's many of you left at this point and even though that saddens me incredibly, i'm so thankful that you've stuck around! so please, i beg that you leave comments and let me know your thoughts bc i miss you and i'm sad without y'all :(
make a guess as to what you think will happen in this chapter according to the title!
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A R I E L L E
I push the cart forward a bit and we stop at the section that holds all of the items one would need while showering. Zayn glances at the options before him, grabbing a bottle from the shelf. He pops the cap open, inhaling the scent.
"What about this, babe? Do you like it?"
I give him a small smile, "Does it matter?"
He chuckles, "I'd be afraid if I chose the wrong scent that you'd never let me fuck you again."
Laughter leaves my lips, "I don't think that's possible. You always smell fuckin' good." It's like a secret talent of his—even when he's sweaty and shouldn't smell nice, he's delectable.
A smirk plays on his mouth and he holds out the soap bottle in my direction. I take a good inhale of it, nearly choking when the musk fills my nostrils. It's horrid, like old, worn leather that's seen too much ass. I turn my head quickly, trying to hide my expression.
"I'll get this one then, yeah?" He's teasing me, hovering the damn thing in the cart.
"Absolutely not."
"Why not, love? I thought you said it's not possible for me to smell bad." As he reiterates what I said to him only moments ago, he approaches me, with that gorgeous lazy smile of his.
