Zayn Malik's Long Lost Sister (Unedited)

69. Hate

Though the gesture and the thought behind having my name changed was amazingly sweet and generous, I did ask for some time to think about it.

I've thought about having this last name before. Marley Malik. Of course, to me, it didn't roll off the tongue like Marley Richards.

I'm overly happy that, despite it turning in a whole family thing, Yaser had wanted this. Because it was his name that was being given to me, it was really his true decision. And he wanted it.

We now sit around Zayn's massive living room, everyone in the space having a whine glass in their hand, but Safaa was the only one with apple juice in hers instead of Champagne. We toasted to the possible name change, and Patricia blessed me with a small wishful prayer that, even if I deny, I'd still consider myself as their name-sake family.

But I already do. Sitting around each family member, leaning against Edward who smiled way too much tonight, I felt like the whole letter thing from my parents in Florida was just a long-ago nightmare. I felt like, it's starting to fade, like it doesn't really matter to me anymore.

It doesn't, because I don't plan on leaving my real family anytime soon.

I leaned my head back and look at Edward, his gaze falling to mine and I smile sheepishly. "Hi."

"Hi." He responds in a playful tone. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm grand. I'm so happy you got to meet my real family."

"I met them before our real first date." His lips press to my forehead and the room begins to roll on quieter.

"We had our date. When we met Demi, saw puppies, had frozen yogurt, and visited your uncle at his tattoo and piercing parlor." I answer, sitting up to turn my body toward him. "Remember?"

"I remember that, yes. But, I wouldn't consider that a date." He responds.

"Okay, what about the surprise going-away party? You took me there, as an escort."

"That wasn't a date."

"What's a date to you?" I ask, my eyebrows knitting together. I honestly thought we've been on a couple of them already.

"Taking you out to dinner after asking if you're free that night. Holding your hand while sitting across from you, both to feel your skin and to remind me not to stuff my face. Then going for a walk somewhere, with a beautiful view. And then ignoring that view to look at you because you're so much more beautiful than nature. Holding your hand until yours and mine get clammy and we have to pull away to wipe it on our clothes before awkwardly linking again. Staring into your eyes, watching your face, taking in the miracle that you had agreed to see me that night. And then take you home and possibly steal a kiss before I leave you for the rest of the evening. That-- that is what I call a date."

I didn't look around to see, but with the silence that engulfed the whole room, I knew everyone was looking at Edward.

My lips are parted, my eyes a bit wider than normal, my breathing hitched every now and then.

"Edward," I managed to choke out. "That sounds so romantic."

"You're so cheesy." Zayn states.

We all turn our heads toward him, my soft gaze turning into a glare. "Stop it, Zayn, it was beautiful."

"I never said it wasn't. Just so cheesy. It was lovely." Just as we thought he finished speaking, he surprised us all by making us burst into laughter. "Pick me up at seven tomorrow, I'll be your date."

"Back off." I laugh out at him, shaking my head.

"Just lemme know what color dress you're gonna wear so we match, okay?" Edward chuckles as he takes a sip of his champagne, his arm snaking around my waist to pull me back comfortably against him. I lean against his side again.