Chasing Winter

Chapter 5

**WINTER’S P.O.V**

I shut the door behind me and lean my back up against it. Did that really just happen? Did I really just kiss Zayn Malik? My heart is pounding against my chest and it threatens to burst with joy. I stand up straight and head to my room. Things have been pretty quiet here since my parents died 2 months ago in that nasty car accident. Ever since I had been lonely and depressed on my own in this barren house. I trudge up the stairs with a sigh, my black heels making a loud sound that echoes throughout the house. I reach the top of the stairs and kick them off in frustration of their noise. I enter my dull looking room and go to the top drawer on the right side of my bed. I pick out a black sports bra and a purple tank top and lower down to the second drawer to retrieve my underwear and shorts.

I go into the bathroom right across from my room and slip out of my dress, bra, and panties. I undo the braid in my hair and shake it so that my wavy locks cascade around my shoulders. I look at my makeup caked face in the mirror and pity myself for a few moments before turning on the shower. The steam from the hot water feels nice as I hop inside. I watch my wrists as the concealer from them washes away, revealing light pink scars from the harm I’ve caused myself after my parents died. I smile at them wickedly as more start to appear as I put my arm farther into the shower water. The ones on my thighs are uncovered and I look at my other arm to see that those scars are also showing now. I nod at them and begin to wash myself. I clean my body and scrub my face to remove all of the junk I put on my face. I wash my long hair and get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my thin body. I dry off quickly and start to put on my clothes. I put my damp hair in a bun and walk back to my room with my dirty clothes in my hands.

I throw them in my hamper and jump onto my baby blue coloured bed. I dig through the sheets and find my remote. I turn on on the flat screen TV that’s on top of a dresser-looking object. I flick through the channels and find something to watch. I get bored halfway through the show and get up from my bed. I go over to my desk which is in the left corner of my room and open up the silver laptop that lays on top of it. I sit in the black rolly chair in front of my desk as I log in and go to the internet browser and open up Tumblr.com. I put in my email and password and it takes me to my dashboard which is filled with pictures of One Direction. I was a huge fan of them, but I would never tell Zayn that. I scroll down through my dashboard, reblogging and liking the photos as I made my way down the page.

I come across a photoset with multiple pictures of Zayn. I see Zayn getting out of a limo in front of a frighteningly familiar restaurant. Nervously I scroll down more and see my biggest nightmare unfold before me. My eyes grow wide and my hand instantly goes to my gaping mouth. The next photo I see is Zayn helping me out of the limo. Scared of what I might see next, my hand shakily moves the cursor lower, revealing another picture of Zayn and I, this time walking into the restaurant. I remove my hand from my face and scroll down to see no more pictures, instead a caption that says; 5.9.12 Zayn Malik and mystery girl. I go down my dashboard more and I see more posts with pictures of us, my face, thankfully, not exposed in any of them. I can’t take anymore and I scroll all the way up and slam on the “Logout” button. It redirects me to the Tumblr homepage and I take a moment to assess the situation. I think for a few moments and get into action.

I quickly go to Twitter.com and my whole homepage has blown up with photos of Zayn and I. #ZaynMalikMysteryGirl is trending and I feel my body start to shake. I quickly go to my Twitter page and delete every picture of me I have uploaded. I change my profile picture to a photo of my now dead cat, Rusty. I make an irrelevant tweet about Ed Sheeran and log off quickly. I thank goodness that I’m not what you would call “Twitter famous” or I would’ve been figured out. I shutdown my laptop and close it, letting out a distressed sigh. This is not good. Does Zayn even know about this? I get up from my chair and check my iPhone which is laying on my night stand by my bed. No messages or calls... typical. I decide that it would be best to wait until morning to tell him as I check the time. My alarm clock reads 2:37am and I know I should start getting ready for bed. I take the bun out of my now dry hair and put the band on my nightstand next to my phone. I turn and walk over to my door where the light switch resides. I flick it to “off” and the lights go out. I walk to my bed as my eyes start to adjust to the darkness. I lay down and throw the covers on top of me. I think about what I’m going to say to Zayn tomorrow when I call him until exhaustion takes over and closes my troubled eyes, leaving me to rest in peace.

My alarm clock wakes me right on time with it’s obnoxious buzzing. I slam my hand down on it and it turns of. I roll over and groan as my first movement causes my body to ache. I open my eyes finally and sit up in my bed. I look over to my nightstand and grab my phone. I click the unlock button to reveal no calls or messages once again.

“Shit, Zayn, do you not check anything?” I mumble to myself in frustration.

I put my phone back on the nightstand and get out of bed. I go to my closet and pick out a black V-neck with a pair of shorts. I then make my way to my top drawer of my drawer set and pick out a bra. I practically drag myself to the bathroom and change out of my sleeping clothes. I brush my teeth and pound my makeup on my plain face. I take out the concealer from a drawer and a makeup brush. I plunge the brush into the concealer and cake it onto my wrists where my pink scars reside. I continue to plaster the makeup onto my arms until the pink streaks fade away. I do the same on my thighs and put away the concealer and brush. I trot back to my room and pick up the band that I put next to my phone last night. I put my long, blonde hair up into a messy ponytail and retrieve my phone from the night stand. I click the unlock button again, knowing I’ll get the same results, but hoping in my heart that Zayn will prove me wrong. Of course, he doesn’t and I sigh. I swipe the arrow and my phone makes an unlocking sound as it takes me to my home screen. I go to the phone icon and tap it with my finger. I go through my recents and see Zayn’s name at the top.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I mutter.

I tap his name and put the phone to my ear.