Destiny (Zayn Malik FanFic)

chapter 1

chapter 1

It was early afternoon when I left for one of my usual walks. Nearly a half hour later, I turned the corner and one of my favourite bookshops came into view. I stopped and smiled to myself, taking in exactly how perfect my life was at this moment. I loved Bradford. Since I was a kid, I would frolic these roads with the constant fear of losing myself in the endless sunshine. It became a habit of mine to aimlessly walk these deserted streets.

I thought of him. The best thing about being in love was that everything else seems to be perfect and peaceful. Everything in nature seems joyous and festive. Nothing is sinful.

I shook out of my love struck silliness and continued along the path that led to Floyt’s Story. I thought about how strange it was, this blissful absence of mind, pathetic it may seem to others, but can a girl help it? Love was a difficult thing. As I continued to walk, I thought of the difference in my life because of him, how much happier I was because of him. He was so good to me. And I loved him with all my heart.

As I clambered into the tiny entrance of the bookshop, the bell rang in my ears. It looked like there was a new shipment of classic books which explained the cluttered foyer. I picked up a shabby looking book that hardly looked like it belonged to the 21st century, let alone in this book store. The title read “The Mystic Renard.’ Right. Leave it to Mr. Floyt to pick up something mysterious like this. My thoughts were broken as I heard the sound of distant footsteps and a familiar cough. I smiled to myself. “I’m here wheezy!” I heard myself say.

Somewhere, a voice rang out, “Took you long enough, eh Eliza? And to what do I owe this pleasure?” I looked around for the source of the mockery and I spotted the tiny man hobbling his way towards me. I ran to give him a hug and do our usual ‘secret handshake.’ I laughed at his childish efforts to make me smile. Mr. Floyt was the only parental figure I remember from my childhood, besides my grandparents. I don’t remember my parents. I was four years old when they died and ever since then my gran and grandpa have raised me. I’ve always been told that I must ‘miss my parents’ or I must ‘be lonely.’ Truth be told, I can hardly remember anything but every time I think of them, I feel strangely satisfied. As if they’re looking down on me and… Smiling. Corny I know. I nearly kill myself from cringing when I think of these things.

Mr. Floyt’s questioning look brought me back to reality. “Nothing really Wheezy, just here enjoying life.”

“He’s amazing to you, isn’t he?” Mr. Floyt’s eyes shone with happiness. He knew that I was finally with someone and my walls had finally broken down.

“Err… Yeah. You know me so well. But really, it all seems so surreal. I convinced myself that love didn’t exist after… well you know,” I paused, not wanting to ruin the sentimental moment, “…and I think I finally believe.” He looked at me, surprised but elated.

“You deserve nothing but the best Eliza,” He replied. I looked down at him, shocked at his comforting words; usually he would tease me about the corniness of it all and ‘love-struck” Eliza. I could feel myself blushing and in order to avoid his tormenting gaze, I moved around and peered through the stacks of books. I came across “       To Kill a Mockingbird” and “Ella Enchanted” and “The Yearlings.” I gasped when I stumbled onto a book I never thought to be in Floyt’s Story.

“What’ve you got here? I thought you weren’t into the romantic bullshit.” I said.

“I will pardon your ignorance as Shakespeare has become quite an interest of mine. Romeo and Juliet is a classic, I’m sure you’ll agree?”