Disguise♔ z.m

Eleven

My eye lashes slowly flickering open to the streaming morning light, I feel my head pound from migraine that was shattering my brain nerves to pieces.

"Ow." I flinch, and rub my eyes, my eye sight still a bit blurry. Sitting for a few seconds, I focus and notice my yesterday's clothes still on me.

Strange?

"Huh?" I look around and jump as though I was some maniac under attack. My feet set onto the ground and at that moment, when I am about to run off, I notice a piece of paper placed under the small glass of water, along with a tablet placed next to it.

Panting, I take the glass into my hold and slightly tilt the paper to the side for the tablet to fall to the surface of wooden night table. Placing the paper in front of my face, I read the scribbled cursive words.

Here's some Advil. My number is written on your fridge's chalk board

- Zayn

I know who Zayn is, but wait, was he in my apartment?

My heart tumbles over its beats and I begin to slightly tremble, sitting back on the edge of the bed and smiling like a freak. First, a hot guy was in my apartment. Second, he gave me his number. Third, I can't remember a moment of yesterday's which is not supposed to be a happy point, now is it?

Cringing from my cigarette scented clothes, I get up and peel off the clothing, dropping them to the ground and walking to my drawer to put on some random T-shirt I purchased not so long ago. I don't bother wearing any shorts because there was no one here to see my awful body. I go around the house and pick up the dirty things, disposing them and setting off for sweeping and mopping the floor. I clean off the dust on every surface, which includes the tables, desks, televisions, and beds. I organize the stack of books I have and re-organize the pillows on the couch. I dance into kitchen, the duster playing its act as my microphone. I don't have a good voice, but neither is it something that can crack glasses just like in the movies. I wash yesterday's dishes and place them into the dish dryer. I go back to my room and change the sheets, later dumping the dirty ones into the hamper. Wiping my hands against my shirt, I scan around my room for my cell phone.

I find it, and immediately go for calling Veronica. On the third ring, she answers, but her voice is slightly different.

"Veronica?"

"Um," she clears her throat and her voice immediately goes back to being high pitched. "Hi!"

"That's one hell of a morning voice you got," I laugh and bounce back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling as I twirl my hair with the tip of my finger.

"Yes!" She laughs too. "How was your night? Did you go to Amigos?"

"I did and shit, did I meet this hottie," my mouth drools.

"Hottie? mm, tell me about him."

"He wore some leather jacket and he had this quiff, okay?" I felt quite excited talking about Zayn. His name is Zayn, that, I remember, but anything that happened after my third round of Margarita, actually vanished.

"Okay? And was he nice?"

"Veronica, I wished I remember what happened after my third round of Margarita, but I found him really mysterious." I mumble and run my hand through my straight auburn hair.

"Third round? Girl, we have so much to talk about tomorrow." She comments and murmurs the last word.

"He gave me his number, too." I add.

"Are you going to call him?" She sounds really curious about Zayn, but that really surprises me because she had no questions regarding the reason I did not want to hang out with Niall.