Try For Me | Zelink AU

Easy

I started posting parts for a new story called Blood of a Hero. If you want a dose of fantasy Zelink, check it out, I'd appreciate it. Back to 1969 though.

Arabella—Arctic Monkeys

R U Mine—Arctic Monkeys

Is It Wrong—Scarlett Rose

You Can Be The Boss—Elliot Norlander

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Zelda's Perspective

Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling above me as the swing sways. Right, left, right. Back and forth, over and over for the past eternity.

The sun has lowered to paint light orange in the sky where it used to be blue and every shadow has lengthened. It's too dark under the porch to see the words on the book I brought out after waiting for over an hour.

I said the afternoon, didn't I? Saturday in the afternoon I told him he could take me on a date. Not the early evening, not tomorrow. So where is he?

He promised he wouldn't disappear this time. I shouldn't have believed it.

My stomach growls as I sit up, resting my chin on my knees. Going hungry seems silly now. I waited in case he was taking me out to eat but he's not here at all.

The swing continues to sway. Right. Left. Right. Left. My toes press into the wood as I slouch further, hugging my knees. The neighbors would have noticed me moping by now. They're probably already calling each other with their theories.

It wouldn't be the first time I was the topic of their gossip. They aren't quiet when they have afternoon get-togethers in the backyard next to mine. I can hear everything over the fence or through my window.

They chirp about the widowed man and his daughter, richest on the street yet he's never home and no boys come around to make a wife out of her. Now that Groose and Revali have shown up a couple times, they'll be chatting about them too. But then it'll be the two different boys who changed their minds after taking a too close look at her.

I throw my legs off the swing and use them to push it back into movement. I hear the hum then, growing louder. Gripping the edges of the swing, I lean as far out as I can, peeking around the bushes blocking my view.

That shiny dark blue greets me along with the full roar of the engine in front of my house. And when he steps out...

I'm not sure what to look at first.

His white shirt was replaced with a black one and his jeans are dark and loose around his legs. I can see from here that his bangs aren't as heavy as when I last saw him but what steals my attention is the dark pair of aviator style sunglasses covering his eyes.

He walks up as if he owns the entire street and knows I won't soak up every detail in time. One could say it was cruel.

The slight breeze knocks his scent into me, sending my stomach in loops. But my senses catch up soon enough and I stick my foot out, pressing it to his middle to keep him from coming any closer.

"You're late."

It's impossible to tell if my cheeks heat with frustration or because of the easy, uncaring grin he gives me. Both would be a better answer.

"Sorry, Freckles."

"You said that last time."

"I meant it then too," he says, taking my foot in his hands, pressing his thumbs into the flat of it like a sort of massage.