[COMPLETED]
❝Death is inevitable. It's a promise made to us at birth.❞
Arielle is a studious young woman striving to be a chef. Her life is full of going to class, reading textbooks, and hanging out with her friends, until she meets Zayn. Zayn's an...
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➳ ARIELLE'S POV
"What do you want to do? It's New Years Eve," I inquire, unsure if I'll get an answer.
Zayn shifts on the couch, eyes focused on the television, arm wrapped around my body. He shrugs his shoulders, "Dunno', babe. You decide."
"If it were my decision, we'd do nothing. We'd do exactly what we're doing now, but I thought you'd want to do something." I feel Sky's little paws kick my leg and when I look down at her she's running desperately in her sleep. "Isn't Drew having a party?"
"Yeah, do you want to go?" He sips on his beer and turns to look at me, his phone vibrating against the couch cushions.
"Not really." Truthfully, I don't want to go to a party where I don't know anyone. The last time we went to Drew's, we were sucked into playing strip poker with a bunch of strangers, and to say it was uncomfortable is an understatement. I'd much rather stay with Zayn, here in our home. I like lying here, cuddling while watching a movie with the guy I'm in love with, not getting drunk with a bunch of people I don't even know.
"Well, make a decision," he responds with a little irritation in his voice. He pulls away from me and stands from the couch, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket as he does so.
I'm in absolutely no mood to deal with any of his moodiness, "Excuse me?"
"Make a fuckin' decision, Arielle. Sitting around on our asses all night isn't making a decision, it's called being indecisive."
What the hell? Where is this coming from? I literally don't want to move, I'm just trying to make sure that he feels heard—that he isn't wanting to do something and I'm being selfish by not considering it. So what's with the attitude?
"Well, then we're staying here." I stand from the couch, turning to him and crossing my arms, but he's focused on his phone, so I roll my eyes, which he catches sight of. He must be this pissy because he wants to do something but he's hesitant to say so. What else could explain the sudden shift?
"Don't be fuckin' moody."
I laugh, "Oh, really? You were perfectly fine up until two minutes ago and now you're being a prick! What the hell's wrong with you lately? If you want to go out and do something, then let's go! Don't be bitchy if you're not happy with the decision you forced me to make!"
He chuckles dryly, never taking his eyes off his phone, but then something catches his eye and his face twists with anger. All focus is on the device—to the point where I'm not even sure he hears what I'm saying anymore.
"Stop laughing! Fuck! If you're not going to tell me what's going on, stop directing your anger and frustration at me! I'm tired of this shit already." He starts walking away from me, down the hallway. "Where are you going?"
