Runaway (A Zayn Malik fanfiction)

Chapter 7 ♡

Chapter 7

(Kat's POV)

"Mint green," I answered to Zayn after he had asked me what my favorite color was. We were still stuck on the Ferris wheel and we hadn't moved an inch for a full hour. But I don't think that I mind. My head was on his shoulder while we asked each other some basic questions that he thought could help us know eachother better.

It turns out that Jack was one of the few lucky people who got to get off first. I spotted him hanging out with the same blonde girl who sat with him on the pod. Finally. I hadn't seen him with a girl, except Carlee and I, for that long in a while.

"Blue," he replied, naming his favorite color.

"Favorite song?" I asked him.

"Little bird, Ed Sheeran."

"Oh, I love that song!"

He chuckled, "everyone does. Except maybe Jack-ass."

"Whoa, hey. Lets not use names. Clever, but rude." A light giggle escaped my throat, he took notice and grinned.

He chuckled, "what about you? Favorite song?"

"Take you, acoustic, Justin Bieber."

"Haven't heard it before."

My eyes grew huge as I faced up to him, still on his shoulder. "Are you serious!?"

"Serious," he replied smirking.

"You're about to hear the most beautiful song ever. Brace yourself." I reached in my pocket for my phone, I took it out to play Justin bieber, but got distracted when I saw a missed text from Jack;

Sorry you're stuck with that asshole. Got out of the Ferris wheel, ha. ;)xx

I rolled my eyes and handed Zayn the phone, "you can reply." I smiled, just so it could get interesting.

I watched as Zayn read the message, he smirked mischievously before looking at me and saying. "Thank you for the privilege." He went back to reply to Jack, then handed me the phone. His message read;

It's actually fun. He's more entertainment than you. Thanks though, Jack-ass. ;)

Jack replied within the minute. His message reading;

Fuck off. It's her phone, not yours.

I handed Zayn the phone back as he read and laughed. Then replied;

Chill mate. Just messing with ya.

Jack didn't reply and Zayn didn't wait. "Was there something you wanted to show me?" He asked politely.

I rested my head back on his shoulder, "ah yes. Here we go."

I played Take You out loud, I'm pretty sure we were the only ones who could hear it. He nodded after every few lines while I grinned like an idiot.

When it was over, Zayn said, "how much do you like that song?"

"A lot."

He smiled and nodded, "it's a good song." I nodded also.

"Alright!" I exclaimed, "next question. What were your past girlfriends like? And how many have you had?"

He smirked, "well, I've had somewhere around ten girlfriends." -let me just that wasn't a lot for someone who looked like him- "and, they were mostly the bad types. You know, like, leather jackets, motorcycle, swearing in every sentence."

"Oh," is all that could come out of my mouth.

He just described the exact opposite of me. I mean, I'm not all that bad, but not a goody-two-shoes either. I wear black sometimes, I guess. And I swear every so often. But, whatever, it's not like I cared anyway.

"But," he continued, knocking me out of my trans, "the reason why they never went over a month was because they weren't what I wanted."

"Meaning?" Suddenly, I cared.

He shrugged, "they just weren't my type."

I smiled to myself, I didn't even know why.

"So what about you?" He asked. "How many guys and what's your type?"

"Well," I started, "three or four guys, I think. They were all different. I don't really have a type, I just kinda met whoever and if they asked me out decently, I would say yes."

"Okay. Decently meaning?"

"Meaning, if they did the whole 'hey you're hot and I like you we should go out sometime' sorta thing, that would be a no. But if they put a little effort into it, maybe even brought a rose or something, that would be a definite yes."

"That's it?" He asked, "all you need is a rose?"