The Tattoo (zayn)

Part 1

I sat on the couch in Arielle, my best friend, and I's apartment. The party around us was going rather well. We're celebrating the finish of filming of our 2nd movie. I was the production assistant and Arielle was the makeup artist. We had been filming in Los Angeles, where I had moved almost exactly a year ago. I started to play with my blonde hair by twirling it around my finger. I was amongst a small circle of people sitting around me on chairs and things. I hadn't said anything for a little while before someone spoke to me.
"Tell us the story of you tattoo", Arielle's friend Bryan said.
"Yah I want to hear it." Someone else retorted.
I had never told anyone the story. Not even Arielle. There was only one person in the world who knew what my tattoo meant.
They were talking about the little "z" on the skin between my thumb and wrist.
I had hinted before about it being a great story but I never felt the need to share it.
"I don't know." I responded to their pleas reluctantly.
I heard a chorus of 'oh come on's circulate amongst the circle of around 5 people around me. The circle consisted of Arielle and her boyfriend Jasper, Bryan, and my friends from set, Dakota and Asher.
I guess it was kind of a requirement for everyone in Los Angeles to have a super unique name.
"Ok ok" I decided to give in to their pleas. "So you know Zayn Malik right?" I asked the circle.
"Yah of course." Most of them responded. The others just nodded.
"Well a year ago when I lived in Atlanta I was working at this restaurant and it was my last day before I moved out to California. To be nice I decided to close up on the last day."
*flashback to 1 year ago*
"Alright only 10 minutes till closing." I took off the apron that was part of my required uniform. I hated this stupid 50s themed diner and I was so ready to move out to California the next day. I already had my job and apartment, secured. Just as long as no one else came in, I would be fine.
I heard the god awful bell of the front door which made me groan.
Before I could even put my apron back on, a man rushed in the diner and ducked down behind one of the tables to not be seen from the big glass window.
He wore a leather jacket and black jeans, yet I could not see his face. He had short, dyed grey, hair and from what I could see, a hint of a beard. He was looking from under the table to see out the window.
Just as I was about to ask him to leave, a swarm of people came running past the window, armed with cameras and coffee. The ran straight past the diner and kept going. This must be who this man was hiding from.
I walked behind him and crouched down to his level.
He obviously didn't hear me creep up behind him, because when I started to say "excuse me sir" it caught him completely off guard and he jerked his head into the table above him with such force, that the salt and pepper shakers fell off the table.
Although it should have been me who was surprised because when he turned to face me I saw that I had just scared the shit out of Zayn Malik. Obviously like a normal girl that was attracted to guys, I found him very attractive and always had. Even back when he was in One Direction. The latest I heard about him was his split, two months ago from his Little Mix fiancé, Perrie Edawrds.
"Ow" he yelled out the instant after he hit his head against the table.
I felt a wave of guilt "oh my god I am so sorry."
"No it's alright." I had completely forgot about his English accent that made me a little more weak at the knees than I already was.
"Let me get you some ice." I got up from the ground and ran to the kitchen. I scooped up some ice and put it in one of the clean table wiping cloths.
When I came back out to the dining area, he was sitting on one of the bar stools, rubbing the spot of impact.
"Here you go." I handed him the rag and he placed it on his head.
There was a moment of silence.
"Sorry for hiding in here." He took his eyes off of the counter and looked into mine. His eyes were rather captivating.
"No it's no problem. But why hide?" I asked.
"I'm guessing you don't know who I am." He giggled a little and looked back down at the counter.
"No I know who you are." I braced my hands against the counter and leaned on them slightly.
"Not a fan?" He asked.
"No I am." I responded.
"So you're not going to spazz out and scream at me then?" He took his eyes back to mine
"No. You may be a celebrity but you are still a person."
"I have to say that that is really refreshing to here." He moved the bag of ice around his head slightly.
"Why are they chasing you?" I asked. I was curious for sure. If I were moving out to LA then I needed to know a bit about paparazzi.
"Well you have the whole leaving the band thing, combined with the whole leaving the fiancé thing, it just creates a swarm of people who want a picture of you." He said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"I can see that." I popped my elbows up on the counter across from his and leaned my face on my hands.
Somehow we ended up talking for ages. I couldn't describe it exactly but it was sort of like that feeling, when you meet someone and you feel like you were always supposed to meet them. Sort of like destiny. We talked so easily with one another. We were connecting on levels that I had never connected with anyone before. I told him about my dreams of a film career. He told me about his childhood. I told him about my father, which not even my therapist from high school could get me to talk about. He told me all the secrets that happened behind the scenes of One Direction. I swore we talked for an hour, just about music.
We were sitting in one of the booths across from each other.
For the first time since he had hit his head, there was a moment of silence.
I looked at his hands and admired the tattoos on them. He had a lot of them, which I found extremely attractive.
"I've always wanted a tattoo."
I moved my eyes from his hands to his eyes.
"You haven't got any?" He asked.
"Nope. I just kinda want to say 'fuck it' and get one." I felt comfortable around him for some reason that I could not describe. It was just something that you feel. I had for sure never felt it before.
"Let's do it." He said. It caught my attention.
"What?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I had heard him right.
"Yah. I wanna be there when you get your first tattoo. Kind of been thinking I could use some new ink myself." He absentmindedly rubbed an empty spot on the skin between his thumb and wrist and it seemed like the perfect place for a small tattoo.
"Ok I'm down. I want something small for my first one."
"Ok how about this. I have had the best night sitting here and talking to you. I haven't been this happy chatting to someone in a very long time. I just feel connected to you and I don't ever want to forget this night so if you will get a little 'z' tattooed, then I will get a little 'r' tattooed." He finished proposing his idea. The 'r' stood for Rachel, a name I hated but was saddled with since birth.
It was a crazy idea over all and normally I would have said no to something like that but something about him and something about this night and the fact that I was leaving tomorrow made it feel right.
"I'm in." I agreed. "Let's get it right here." I pointed to the skin on his right hand that had nothing on it.
"Ok" he smiled at me. I could write symphonies about his smile.
"I think I know a place that would still be open." I checked my phone and saw that it was 2 in the morning.
"Let's do it." He smiled an even bigger smile.
We headed out of the restaurant after I locked up and headed down the street to a tattoo parlor that I had walked past every day on my way to work. Sometimes the artists would come into the diner and I had become friends with most of them.
We reached the building and I was right about it still being open.
We walked in and the blue haired woman, who I knew to be Megan, greeted me.
"Hey Rachel what are you doing in here?" She asked.
"I've come to get a tattoo with my friend here." I pointed to Zayn who was standing directly behind me.
"Sure thing." She smiled because she had always talked about wanting to be the one who does my first tattoo whenever she came in the diner.
"Both of you can have a seat over here." She pointed to some chairs.
Zayn and I walked over ad sat down.
Megan called over Harold, the store's owner, to do Zayn's tattoo.
They started the tattoo gun and placed the needle on my skin. It didn't hurt as much as I was expecting it to. Zayn didn't flinch at all of course.
10 minutes later I had a little,black 'z' and Zayn had a little black 'r'.
I got up from the chair and so did he. He wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a hug.
"I'm never gonna forget tonight" he said into my ear.
I had just remembered that I hadn't told him I was moving to California.
"Zayn I-" I was cut off when the door swung open and some guy in a suit came though. He hardly looked like the tattoo type so I guessed that wasn't why he was here.
"Zayn." He said in our direction.
"What Tom?" He asked.
"The paparazzi found out where you are. There are tons of them outside. Let's go now." He was very assertive in his tone. When he said that thing about the paparazzi, I peeked outside the door to see about 30 people with cameras, positioned at the entrance.
"What about Rachel?" He asked, pointing to me.
"She can wait here and I'll arrange a car for her after you leave. If you leave together the press will have a field day. Come on." Tom was very insistent.
Zayn turned toward me and hugged me once more.
"Goodbye." He simply said.
He held my tattooed hand with his.
"It's like we have two halves of a heart." He said and giggled a little.
Something inside of me took over when he said that. Just like an instinct. I moved my head up to his and kissed him. And he kissed me right back. I didn't care that we were in the middle of a tattoo shop and I didn't care that everyone in the Atlanta press association was outside. I enjoyed every moment.
We broke away and Tom looked less than pleased.
"Come on Zayn let's go." He said tapping his foot.
Zayn walked toward Tom and they both started walking out the door.
He had an unmistakable grin on his face. Just as Tom opened the door and they were about to be swallowed by paparazzi, Zayn seemed to have a moment of realization when he jerked his head, back toward me.
"Wait Rachel I never got your num-" and before he could finish his sentence Tom pushed him out of the door and he disappeared amongst all the people taking his picture and asking him questions.
He was right. He never got my number and I forgot to tell him I was moving. Shit.
*end of flashback*