Bloom

Chapter-14

Zayn

I might not admit it but I am a fucking genius. The last time I saw Stella on the pavement I sorta might have seen the ink sprawled across the sheet that flew from her hands.

It was from one of her classes, tagged as English Lit. I expected her to be someone who liked literature. From the way she lectured me about morals weeks ago, the reflection was clear. Every time thoughts about her strike me, I can't seem to help myself but fantasise about our kiss.

Her tongue caressed mine as if it was made for me, she shivered at my contact and her mesmerizing beauty she isn't aware of, fuck! Am I going mad? I never just kiss and surely don't make out with someone at such a high intensity in a fucking lot.

None of the girls' lips fit perfectly in my mouth like hers did, her tongue doesn't glide expertly along mine. Any and all girls are rendered useless in front of Stella and I only want her. I just needed to devise a plan to get to her.

Luckily, the answer to getting to her lied in the sheet that flew past her the other day and I was fortunate enough to have laid my eyes on it.

.....

It's been two and a half hours. And still no sign of Stella. I'm one hell of a demented lunatic. If someone saw me standing there next to Stella's car since the last few hours, raising my head every five minutes from my phone's screen expecting her, they would believe I'm a stalker. In the meantime I've pronounced her name a thousand if not a million times, in all different ways. "Stella. Stel-la. S-tella. Ste-lla. Stellaaaaa. Stella." Like a lover gone rogue, I continually called her name just to feel her syllables once again on my tongue. Her name is like a plea existing for me to call it. I love saying the word. Until her name I don't think I've ever had a favourite word. But now I do. My favourite word, Stella.

Before her image, her scent reaches my nostrils. Sweet and innocent, just like her. There she is looking fucking heavenly as ever, walking into the lot with a bag slung on her shoulder. A strong gush of wind makes her shiver and her long brunette hair are swept away as her tiny arms wrap themselves around her shoulders. The girl from the other day alongside her. Their conversation is inaudible as she laughs at something her friend said. That fucking laugh I've dreaded as well as missed in the time I have spent away from her. Her petite frame adorns a fluffy white sweater and blue jeans, looking absolutely gorgeous. A sight for my sore as fuck eyes.

It takes her a few moments to acknowledge my presence across the lot but when she does, another shiver runs down her spine but this time not because of the wind. Our eyes meet and as if on que we both inhale a slow breath, releasing a ragged one. She tears her irises away from me and whispers a short goodbye to her friend before they part ways and her feet bring her to me. 

It's from a closer view that I see how perfectly her breasts are aligned against her sweater. A hint of skin visible atop, leaving the rest for imagination. I get a hard-on simply by looking at her.

"What do you want?" She says in a tone almost threatening but it only amuses me. Catching me checking her out, she adjusts her sweater.

"Where have you been since morning?" Shunning the unholy notions, I ask her, trying my best to filter out my concern.

"None of you business." She trots past me and unlocks her car, throwing her bag in the backseat of the car. Her frustration surfaces and a groan escapes her as she shuts the door with force. The carefully concealed concern now seeps out through every pore in my body.

I close the gap between us, lining my front to her back. "What's wrong, babygirl?" Suddenly I'm possessed with the desire to take away all her tensions and smooth out the lines on her forehead. When I don't get an answer, I take her jaw in my palm and angle it towards me, desperately. "Did somebody do something?" I say deeply. Our mouths are so close together that I can taste her hot breath on me. Her eyes bore into mine with so much exasperation and pain but with underlying lust.

"No." She releases a pent up breath.

"Then?" I urge her to spill, knowing very well my conscience won't allow to leave until I know what the hell is wrong with her and fucking fix it.

"I broke my phone." A tear leaks and paves a river across her hot red cheeks, flowing until it is stopped by my fingers locked at her jaw. I'm overwhelmed by emotion. Never have felt so raw and exposed by someone else crying, like it's me with a broken phone not her. This is beyond empathy, this has nothing to do with the lust I feel towards her. In this moment, I want to join her and cry, to take her tears away and embellish them on my lashes, to take away her pain, to do anything but see her like this, broken as much as her phone is.

I spin her around with one turn of my hand on her jawbone. Examining her eyes fiercely with my brows scrunched, overcome with profound protectiveness. Detaching my hand from her face, I bring it to her soft cheeks, gently rubbing away her tears. She looks at me with a light smile on her face. When the tears are gone, I kiss her cheeks, then her lids. She sighs with relief and a genuine smile plasters itself on my lips.

There has never been a moment this pure in my life before. All the girls I've fucked never made my mind go fucking googoo gaagaa and never in my life have I consoled anyone before. I always run away from emotion. I close my eyes overcome by fear and something hitting at my chest, feelings. Trying to turn the thoughts away, I shake my head. But everything comes at me like a fucking airplane and crashes. Now I'm the one with tears. Before one falls from eyes, I turn around and walk straight to my car. Away from the person who has made me feel the most I have ever felt. Stella.