Supersonic | Zayn Malik | AU |

Fifty-Five

☠ Chapter Fifty-Five ☠

➳ JONAH'S POV

"How is that even possible?" I groan, frustratedly throwing my body back against the sofa.

Ari absolutely beams at me in victory, and hell, if it isn't the most adorable thing I've ever laid eyes on. "You still suck at this game," she teases, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She sits cross-legged against the cushion, holding her controller loosely in her hands.

Somehow, she's managed to beat me the last four consecutive championships on one of my racing games. Secretly, I think she's been practicing without me because she was never really good at this game. But then again, maybe I've just been letting up on her, not that I'd ever tell her that. She'd be furious if I ever went easy on her.

She can't seem to wipe the smile off her face as she stands from the couch. It's definitely a sight for sore eyes, knowing that she came here so heartbroken and now she's seemingly forgotten about last night's events. That was the whole point of her being here though, and I'm glad I accomplished helping her, even if it only is for a few hours.

I admire her as she pulls a ponytail from her clutch and begins pulling her hair away from her beautiful face. I can't help it. She knows that I've got a crush on her—hell, I'm probably madly in love with the woman.

It just absolutely breaks my heart to think that someone could've done anything to harm her. It's unfathomable to me why you'd ever want to hurt a woman like Ari. It's just like I told her, she's beautiful, she's strong, she's independent, she's kind, she's intelligent. But it's so much more than that. Because she's also confident, forgiving but also stubborn as all hell, compassionate, courageous, has a wonderful sense of humour—she's got everything a guy like me could ever want.

I love it how she gets so focused when she's trying to beat me—that focus where she creases her brow and bites down harshly on her lip. I love it how whenever she's cooking, she's constantly closing her eyes—just for a moment—to admire the creation of smells she's made. I love it when she tries lying to me, but her face so easily gives her away when she sucks her lower lip into her mouth and avoids my gaze. I love the way she looks wearing my clothes right now, my t-shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders revealing her beautifully tan, freckled skin. 

God dammit, I'm crazy for her.

As much as it pains me, I know that she doesn't reciprocate my feelings and I guess in a way, I'm alright with it. I'm most happy when I'm with her, but that doesn't necessarily mean I have to be with her. I can still enjoy time with her like this, where we sit around lazily joking and just hanging out like best friends.

I mean, yeah, it's hard not to make a move on her, but I know better than that.

The grumbling of her stomach draws me out of my thoughts, and I look over at her to see that she's clutching her stomach. "Bertha sounds hungry," I tease with a chuckle.

She immediately covers her face with her hands, "Oh, God, did you seriously just—I can't believe you remember that!" Arielle looks absolutely tiny in my shirt and it's too adorable.

Of course. "What would Bertha like?" I ask, referring jokingly to her—sometimes never-ending—stomach. That's why we named her Bertha in the first place, but it was mostly because we were just really drunk and Arielle was really hungry.

She still looks embarrassed, peeking at me through her fingers before removing her hands from her face all together. "Mm," she hums as she saunters back over to the couch, plopping herself down onto it. "I don't know if she wants takeout."