Opposites

n i n e t e e n

Melody

My eyes flutter open, only to have them closed again because of the blinding light coming from the opened window. After I adjust to the light, memories of last night come flooding back in my mind. I smile, looking down to see Zayn's hand and leg draped over my whole body. His skin on mine makes me tingly, and feel some type of way. I can't fight the stupid grin on my face, so I bite my lip to suppress it. If Zayn was awake now, he would've scolded me for biting my lips. Now that I think about it, Zayn hates it when I bite my lip for a still unknown reason. My mind slowly wanders off to his hatred for dancing. I want to desperately know why he hates dancing so much, but I feel like if I asked him he would definitely snap and get angry. I just have to wait, to earn all of his trust, and then I can question him about it. It might be an experience he witnessed, or he just simply hates dancing. There are millions of possibilities, it can be any one that would describe his hatred for dancing.

I move my head slightly to his direction, seeing his chest rising up and down as he exhales and inhales. Sweet small snores escape his lips, his mouth slightly open. His hair is messily swiped down across his forehead, the black sheets are under his ankles, not covering an inch of his body. My eyes shamelessly rake over his briefs, and with a flushed face I look back up again quickly. I gaze at his face, pointing out every beautiful flaw he has. I raise my hand, touching his forehead. Then I swipe his hair back. I trace my index finger across the snake tattoo he has on his shoulder, then bring it down to the unknown girl. I furrow my eyebrows, confused to why he got a tattoo of a girl. Maybe it's his sister, or a member of his family.

I shift under his weight, not knowing how to get out of his grip. I try to get up, but I obviously fail and fall back down on the soft mattress. I huff rather loudly, which makes Zayn move above me. I see him wiggling his nose like a rabbit, and then suddenly his eyes shot open. At first, his eyes glare at the ceiling then they slowly move down to his arm and leg that's dropped over my body. He furrows his eyes as they once again move up until they land on my face, making eye contact with me. I suck in breath, when his jaw clench and his hands turn into fists as always. I gulp down, when he removes his body from mine, sitting up on the bed only to groan after. His hand raises up to his forehead, rubbing hardly. He must've felt dizzy, and hangover from last night.

"Are you okay?" I ask timidly, sitting up like him and pressing my back against the headboard of the bed.

Zayn moves his head toward me in the blink of an eye, "What are you doing here?" He asks in a dangerous low voice.

He probably doesn't remember what happened last night.

"Zayn, yesterday you were drunk and—"

"No, I wasn't." He denies.

"Yes, you were." I argue back.

Zayn shakes his head then changes the subject, "What are you doing here anyways? Get out."

"But, last night you told me to s—"

"Get out!" He screams, his face showing a big set of different emotions.

I flinch away, getting off the bed and striding to where I left my jacket. I wrap it around my waist, then open the door. Before I get out I say in a loud voice, "You fucking told me to stay, you were the one who was drunk to the point where you can't walk. You were the one who called me."

I never speak with such foul language, but this time I've had enough. I got so fed up with his rude attitude. When I hear no reply from him, I get out and close the door very loudly. I turn around the corner of the hallway, out of the front door, to finally get out from his apartment.

I sigh, my eyes landing on Harry's car. I furrow my eyebrows approaching our door quietly. I knock two times, and the door swings open to reveal Louis holding a granola bar and munching loudly. He moves to the side without a word, and I enter the now familiar warm home. When I enter the kitchen, Harry stands moving infront of the stove and preparing, I guess, breakfast.