MALIK :: ZAYN

fourteen | really

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"I asked you one simple question, Trey," Zayn snapped, "I asked for accurate numbers and the plan with my store in DC now, how is it doing?"

"Mr. Malik, the store in D.C. is not returning my calls," Trey Henderson replied calmly.

"And why not?"

"I don't know."

Zayn huffed, sitting at the head of the table and rubbing his forehead. Him and Trey were really good friends, so it was easier for him to calm down than it was with anyone else.

"Andrea, how are the sales there going?"

"They're great, higher than you expected," she replied.

"Okay, um," he looked at a few papers in front of him, "ba -- Crissle, see when I'm free this Saturday or the next and book a flight to DC. If they don't answer to my workers, they'll now answer to me."

Crissle nodded, typing away on her iPad. "Private jet?"

"No, not this time, uh. First class."

"Are you okay, sir?" Trey asked skeptically, "you don't look so--"

"I'm fine," he replied dismissively, "uh, can we pick this up later? Yeah, okay, I'll see you guys in a few," he ran a hand through his hair and got up, briskly leaving the room and everyone confused.

"What the fuck was that?" Andrea looked at Crissle, "what's with him?"

"I have no clue," she watched the other employees leave the room, except for Trey, "should I check up on him?"

"Probably not now," he replied smoothly, "he might need some alone time. Even from his girlfriend."

"He's not my--"

"I beg to differ," Andrea stood, "Trey? Lunch?"

"Alright," he smiled, hooking his arm in hers as they walked out of the conference room. Crissle stood up with a sigh and sorted out the papers Zayn left, paper clipping and filing them in a folder she had to later prioritize in her cubicle. She closed the door behind her and went over to her workspace to sit down.

Crissle wondered what was bothering Zayn, but she didn't want to annoy him in anyway. He looked nervous, a little distraught, maybe somber. She'd never seen him so...flustered the whole time she had been working here.

She really wanted to know what was wrong, so, she got up and cracked Zayn's door open. He was pacing back and forth across his office, biting his lip with his hands in his pockets. His head was down and he didn't even look up when the door closed and Crissle was finally in the room with him.

"Zayn?"

His pacing didn't falter and Crissle sighed, walking around him and sitting on his desk. She crossed her legs and watched him walk back and forth, deep in thought.

"Zayn " she got up and stopped him, he flinched and balled his fists up. She frowned "what's with you?"

"Nothing," he snapped but quickly composed himself, "I'm sorry, baby. You're the last person I want to make angry."

"I'm not angry--"

"You will be."

"For what?" he was about to pace again but she stopped him, "no, no. Talk to me, Zayn."

"My mum," he huffed, running a hand over his face, "she wants to meet you."

"Why?" Crissle asked in surprise.

"Some shit about me not shutting up about you," he shook his head and folded his arms, "I do not--"

"You talk about me?" she grinned, "outside the office?"