[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...
"I wish I was your shadow, clinging to your bones when the sun comes up and laying down, patiently waiting for you to join me when the sun goes to sleep."
— kpk
A/N:
here's the second update — as promised!
leave lots of comments? as a lil present?
y'all make this so fucking fun 🥹 i love you immensely 🫶🏼
make your guess of what you think the plot of this chapter will be based on the title!
enjoy! X
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Z A Y N
When I awoke yesterday, I had a feeling. I can't really explain it, but I just felt like something was different. This morning, it was the same. The feeling hasn't died, despite the sleep.
It also hasn't resulted in anything actually being different.
That's why it confuses me so much.
It's officially been over five months since I was last able to see Arielle—with her being aware of that fact. It's been that fucking long since the accident and my faked death. Since I've been able to touch Arielle, talk to her face to face. Since being able to actually go outside like a normal human being.
It's been a few weeks since the night at the club and I was lucky that Hayes never caught on. Wherever he went for the night, he ended up actually staying away till the next day so everything went better than I ever expected.
Mauna and Storm have been nonstop texting since and it's wonderful. I've teased her about imagining me—although she doesn't know it's me she confessed to—while fucking James. We've chatted about life and watched a few movies together while messaging. She seems to be doing a hell of a lot better. Like, leagues and bounds above what she was even during the evening at the nightclub.
Five months is a long fucking time to be away from the woman you're in love with. So much could've happened that I have no idea about.
I feel as though I've already begun to forget the way she smelt. The way her skin was always so soft, tempting my hands to smooth over her flesh just so I can feel it. I worry that I'm in the stages of beginning to forget the way her eyes would look when she'd cum, the way her hair would surround her like a crown when she'd swim, the way her face looked so peaceful and beautiful as she slept.
