Art [Zarry]

XXIX

~The next morning~
Zayn
As I drifted into consciousness, a high-pitched whistle rested in my ears, causing my head to throb.

It was as if I could hear the bright sunlight shining in on me, a glow visible through my eyelids.

Slowly, I blinked my eyes open, squinting and trying to see where I was.

I sat up, pushing my hair out of my eyes, able to feel the cool air on my exposed skin.

Past the foot of the bed was what I figured was the washroom, and from where I sat, I could hear someone humming.

Based off of the tone, I assumed it was a man.

Also, based off of how this room was arranged, I assumed I was in a hotel.

I felt for my phone, wanting to be ready to call for help of I needed to.

And it was then, that I discovered I wasn't wearing any trousers.

I still had my boxers on, but my trousers were nowhere to be seen.

Just as I began to panic, the humming stopped, and I watched the door knob start to turn.

I quickly gathered the duvet, covering myself and watching the bloke emerge from the washroom.

He was dressed from the hips down in snug black jeans, towel drying his blonde curls, pausing when he saw me.

"Oh, hi." He smiled, a perfect dimple in both of his cheeks.

"H-How'd I get here?" I asked, watching him brush his curls away from his face, shaking them into place much like Harry did.

"I brought you here so you'd be safe." He said, rubbing lotion onto his large biceps, and shoulders.

"Safe?" I frowned, glancing at the toned muscles in his abdomen.

"Yeah, I think someone put something in your drink last night. I'm guessing you don't remember." He said, looking at me.

"Who?" I asked, barely remembering anything that happened last night.

It all seemed like such a blur.

"I don't know, but it's happened before with other models. Some people don't handle competition well." The bloke explained.

"M'not competition, why would someone do that to me?" I asked tiredly, rubbing my head.

"I don't know. You were barely able to walk when you ran into me, I figured it'd be best to take you somewhere to sleep it off." He shrugged.

"Thanks, I guess." I mumbled, wondering who tried to kill me.

"But...where are my clothes?" I asked, lifting my head and looking at him.

He was facing away from me now, digging through his suitcase.

"Um, well...." He trailed off, chuckling.

He slipped a shirt on, the dark fabric hugging his body.

"You kept calling me Harry. And...I'm guessing Harry is someone you're comfortable with undressing in front of?" He chuckled, looking at me.

I blushed, looking away.

"I mean, all you did was take your shirt and pants off. Then I helped you into bed because you were wobbling." He said, his Australian accent very noticeable.

"You told me you loved me, then you sort of just...passed out." The bloke finished.

"That's great." I managed to say, my stomach churning.