"Please," Zayn begs. "Just... let me kiss you."
Diamond gives him that look - the one she always gives him. The one that makes him feel like a small child being denied ice cream. "Sorry, but you know it's against my policy."
She doesn't sound sorry...
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Diamond above
( goldennn_xo on instagram )
You don't have to imagine her exactly like that but descriptions of Diamond will be based off of this woman so yeah
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Zayn is scraping the bottom of the vanilla ice cream tub when the doorbell rings, so it takes him a few seconds to actually connect the dots and realize somebody's at the door. Even after he does, he stays sitting on the sofa, suddenly aware of what he's done.
He's called a prostitute.
He can't deny that the thought has most definitely crossed his mind (and double crossed, and sat down for a drink, and stopped to do jumping jacks) before. He's picked up the phone to call so many times, and dialled the number so many times he's bloody memorized it. He thought it would help him move on, see. He thought that if he had mind blowing sex with somebody else, it would put Perrie right out of his mind... but every time he went to try, he just imagined Perrie's disapproving, disappointed face — the same one she always used to give him when he gave into his urges and smoked a cigarette. He tried to hide it every time, but she could always tell; she said that Zayn always tasted like an ashtray after he'd smoked, no matter how hard he brushed his teeth. She always used to—
Fùck, he's doing it again.
Don't think about her, Zayn, he scolds himself, throwing the empty tub aside. You've got a hot girl at the door ready and waiting.
His subconscious is right; he's wasting time. He glances around the room, grimacing at the mess. Even if the girl he'll hopefully be having sex with will most likely be willing no matter what, he still feels disgusting. The neat freak in him picks up all the discarded food packets and beer bottles and hurriedly clears them into a bin bag in the kitchen, along with the smashed laptop. Next, Zayn looks down at his sweats and grimaces. Will she still think he's a slob? He doesn't stop to consider how ridiculous idea is before he's shoving his legs into a pair of jeans, only realising once his belt is on that he didn't even put on underwear beforehand. Then he lingers a bit more, nerves finally setting in. What has he done? He's called a pròstitute. He's bloody Zayn Malik. He has literally made girls pass out just by looking at them. What is he doing?
