When A Heart Breaks (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 4

Rose's POV

"Wow, you really picked that up fast!" Zayn smiles at me proudly.

I crack my aching knuckles. Zayn just managed to teach me half the song in almost 3 hours, and we were both knackered. Also, I've started warming up to him a bit. He actually isn't too bad...

"Ready to go?" He asks, stretching. I nod, "Yes! I'll make sure to practice all weekend."

He winks, "That's wha' I like to hear!"

We both walk out of the room, into the narrow hallways, which are pitch black.

"Damn it, somebody turned the lights off." I hear Zayn mutter. I feel around for him, my heart starting to beat faster. "Zayn?"

"I'm right here." I feel an arm wrap around my waist, causing chills to travel down my spine. "Let's go."

"I didn't realise how late it was!" Zayn exclaims, looking up at the star-filled sky. "Yeah, me either." I chuckle.

"You'll have to tell me how to get to your house." Zayn tells me, as I follow him to his black Mercedes. "Of course."

He opens the passenger side door for me. I smile, as I sink into the soft leather seat. His car smells faintly of ciggarette smoke and old air freshener.

Zayn comes around to his side and drops into his seat. "Where to?" He asks, starting the car.

"Harlow."

Zayn nods, "Not too bad."

About 20 minutes into the drive, I am resting my head against the window. My fingers are tapping my knee to the beat of a Guns 'N' Roses song Zayn is playing.

"I'm really sorry for acting like such a baby earlier." I suddenly blurt out. Zayn turns the music down, "No, Rose. Don't apologise. It's just something that happens. We're only human."

"I feel so pathetic." I mumble, shaking my head.

"What's going on love? Do you feel like talking about it?" He looks at me, with one hand on the wheel.

"I don't know... I mean... Today was the first time I've had a proper conversation with you. Like, I haven't even talked to my own friends." I sigh, twisting my bracelets around my wrist, over and over.

"I understand. But Rose, I can tell you need somebody. And that's me. You can trust me. Really."

I wouldn't have believed anyone else who would have said this. But when it's coming from Zayn, I just feel differently. More safe, like I could just let my guard down and he wouldn't judge me. The sincerity in his dark eyes actually says so much.

For the remaining 20 minutes of the trip, we talk about anything and everything, and singing along to the radio.

Zayn finally pulls into my long driveway, which is empty. My mum isn't home yet.

Something deep inside of me doesn't want to leave his car, and him. I want to stay with him, to feel wanted. Then reality hits me. I can't stay. I can't like Zayn. Wait, yes I can. Why does life have to be so confusing and awful?

"Rose?"

"Huh?" I snap out of it, looking at him. "Sorry. Just uh, just lost in my thoughts." He gives me an understanding smile before getting out and opening my door for me.

I slowly step out of the car, trying not to stare at this gorgeous man with sparkling eyes. I look away, and head to my front door.

Zayn studies the outside of my large house, as I fumble with my keys. I unlock the door and push it open, to be greeted by the darkness of my empty house.

I step inside and flip on the lights.

Zayn comes inside as well. "Soo..." He starts, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I can tell he doesn't want to leave yet. And honestly, I don't ant him to leave either.

"Do you, ehm, want something to drink?" I ask shyly. He nods, "Yeh, that would be great." I lead him to the kitchen, where he takes a seat on one of the stools at our capacious island.

I secretly was quite thrilled to have a member of One Direction casually sitting in my kitchen.

"Tea?" I ask, filling the kettle with water. Zayn nods, "Perfect."

As I wait for the water to boil, I turn around to notice Zayn looking at me with a massive smile spread across his face.

"What?" I ask, a small smile growing on my face as well.

"Nothing." Zayn shakes his head and stares down at the marble counter, grinning.

I walk over and lean my arms on the island across from him, letting my long hair cascade down my right shoulder.

"Zayn Malik." I say softly, a smirk falling upon my face.

He looks up slowly, to meet my gaze.

"Rosland Greenwell." He whispers. "You. Are so beautiful." I notice a tinge of pink rise to his cheeks, his chin resting in his hand.

I smile, "So are you." I admire his face, feeling completely comfortable with this eccentric, mysterious lad.

My eyes don't leave his, until the tea kettles starts whistling. A small gasp leaves my lips as I snap out of the odd trance. I take the kettle off the burner, and I pour the steaming water into two mugs.

I put two Earl Grey tea bags in each cup, with milk and sugar. I hand Zayn his mug and a spoon.

"Thanks love." He smiles and stirs his tea. I grab mine, and I sit next to him.

We sit in silence, sipping our tea for a few minutes.

"So, how old are you?" He asks.

"Uh, seventeen. You?"

"Nineteen." (A/N I know Zayn is actually 20.)

"I'm turning eighteen in January though." I add. His brown eyes widen, "What day?!"

I give him a weird look, "Uh, the 3rd."

"Dang! My birthday is the 12th!"

I laugh, "That's cool!"

That's when we hear the front door open.

"I'm home Rose! Sorry about today!"

My mum stops in her tracks as she walks into the kitchen, to see Zayn and I laughing and enjoying tea at 11 p.m.

Well, this is awkward.