Opposites

t h i r t y - t w o

Melody

Coldhearted. That is the only thing that can describe Zayn at the moment, the words he spoke were like poison. His lips snickering when he said them. "We're nothing, we're just close." What does that even mean? What about us kissing every single day? What about us almost making out each day? What am I to him? I never knew a simple sentence could hurt me so badly, but it did. It stung. Zayn's words are on replay in my mind.

I want to ask him so many questions, say so many things. I want to ask him why, want to beg him to tell me a good excuse for his words, want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to say sorry for maybe not being good enough. I want to ask him what can I do for him, maybe he can accept me that way. I want to say all of these things, but instead of speaking my mind, I stay frozen in my place and put on my poker face.

Zayn returns to eating seconds later. I stare at my plate, dozing off until he cuts me off from my thoughts.

"I was thinking we could go somewhere."

Should I answer him or not?

I sigh, "Yeah, sure. Where to?"

Zayn hums, thinking of places to go, I suppose.

"What about the Statue Of Liberty? You've never been there yet, right? We can go there. We don't have to literally discover the whole thing, we'll just look at it from afar like most of the people do." Zayn says while chewing.

My eyes widen a bit, "But it's far away from here."

"About an hour and a half. Let's get going." Zayn puts his plate down on the coffee table, and stands up. "I'll put some clothes on, then I'll meet you outside."

I nod my head agreeing but Zayn stops in his tracks and turns around when I call him, "Hey Zayn, do you have a jacket or something. I don't want to go back into the house and get mine.."

Zayn nods, "Yeah, sure."

He runs back into the hallway, and I stand up to my feet and hold our plates in my hands, heading to the kitchen. I throw the small bits of the half eaten pizza and scrub the plates with soap then begin to rinse them with water. When I'm done, I dry my hands and grab my phone then get out, waiting for Zayn outside.

I sigh and run my fingers through my locks. How should I behave now? How should I talk to him? He hurt me. His words literally cut like knives. Maybe he didn't mean them? Who am I kidding, if he didn't, he wouldn't have said them. I shake my head, huffing. I'll just act normal, like nothing even happened, like his words aren't a big effect on me.

I hear his loud footsteps getting closer, Zayn gets out of the flat and locks the door after him. He faces me and hands me a black leather jacket. I furrow my eyebrows, as I realize that it's a woman's jacket. I take it in hesitation, and slip it on. Zayn nods, "C'mon."

He walks toward his Harley motorcycle. I stop in my tracks and exclaim, "We're going on your motorcycle?!"

Zayn slowly turns around, "No, we're going on an airplane." He rolls his eyes sarcastically.

"Zayn, we're not going to be on a motorcycle for an hour and a half!" I cross my arms and walk closer to him.

"Would you rather ride a cab and be stuck in traffic for three hours? We're in New York, Melody. We'll get there faster by this baby." Zayn smiles, pointing at his 'baby'.

He has a point in that. I sigh loudly, and approach his motorcycle, waiting for him to get on. I see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, while he gets on and starts up the motorcycle. He holds his hand out for me, and I grip it then jump behind him. My legs fall on each side of the motorcycle, and I remember when we ran away from my birthday party. When he told me that 'I can't seem to do anything right'. But a small smile creeps on my face, when I remember where he took me.