Addicted z.m

Chapter 22

Our laughs echoed in the dim light provided by the single scented candle.

"No way," Zayn denied.

"I'm serious!" I promised. "For some unknown reason he thought it'd be a fabulous idea to try and throw me in the air. We walked out of there with twisted ankles and a sprained wrist."

Zayn continued to laugh and I joined in, letting it ring throughout his dark office. The only light illuminating it was a small candle that sat between up on the floor. The light flickered as it fought to reach darker corners to no avail.

I stared at the small flame, unaware of my fading smile. The sudden silence slowly tugged me back to reality. Why I was here, where I should be.

"Spencer," Zayn whispered. I flinched when his hand came in contact with my cheek.

I turned my head away from his touch. "This doesn't change anything," I spoke. "Tomorrow morning, we're getting on that plane as passengers, not prehistoric lovers."

"I wouldn't say 'prehistoric'-"

"You know what I mean," I snapped, meeting his eyes. "No more ties. I meant what I said about-"

"Kicking me out of your life?" he finished in a sour tone. "Yeah, and how's that working out? You hit up Daniel to 'get your mind off of things' and wound up on my desk!"

"Who do you think you are?!"

"The guy you've been in love with for the last two years!"

"And that ended when you decided it'd be alright to shove your tongue down another girl's throat behind me back!" I raised my voice.

"But clearly you're so forgiving! First you get back in the bed with Myles, now in my office with me? You're getting creative."

Without thinking, my hand came in contact with his cheek, echoing a pop off of the walls of the office. His head whipped to the side at the force and I stood up from my spot on the floor.

"Don't you dare ever try to speak to me again! You are dead to me, Zayn Malik! Dead!"

I stormed out of the office, shoes in hand, and made my way out of the building. I ran the whole way to my dorm, using the wind as an excuse for the tears brimming my eyes.

Everything he said was true. . . but that didn't stop it from hurting. Hearing him say those words - basically calling me a slut - just hammered the blade that was already impaling my heart.

*

I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours after my alarm went off. Gathering my thoughts with my hand on my forehead, images of the night before focused in and out of my brain.

I'd had sex with Zayn last night. . . On his desk. . . In his office. . .

"Just get it out of our system," he had said. Nothing more. Why was the urge in my system in the first place? Why was I still sexually drawn to him?. . .

I didn't cancel out what had been said afterwards. Thinking of his tone sent daggers through my chest. Remembering the stinging feeling left on my palm after slapping him twisted my stomach in knots.

A shower.

I needed a long, hot shower. I willed my stiff muscles to finally push me out of bed and to the showers.

I woke up early, so the hot water was still plentiful. But it served no mercy on my mind. I couldn't stop thinking. Our harmonising moans still echoed in my ears as I fought so hard to drown them out with the scorching water.