Make the Most of It

20. Apartment Love

"Hey! That was totally unfair!" I yelled at the screen. Zayn and I were are his house playing video games since we had nothing better to do.

"Suck it up sweet cheeks." I grabbed the controller from his hands and placed it on the couch to my right since Zayn was on my left, as I continued playing.

"Ha! Now I'm going to to win," I smiled in triumph.

"Hey give it back!"

"Nope. Nope. Nope."

"Fine. I'll get it myself." He reached over to try and get it so he was sprawled over my lap.

"Hey!" I laughed. After he grabbed it, he didn't lift himself back up. Instead he turned over so his back was on my lap and he was looking at me. "Get off Zayn!" I giggled. He just shook is head and tried reaching his face up so he could kiss me. I dodged his lips though.

"You only get a kiss if I win."

"Fine." He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. "There. You win." He smiled up at me, making me go crazy on the inside. I bent down and gave him the smallest kiss. Then he propped himself back up so he was sitting again.

"Told you we can make this work," he said.

"I don't know. I'm getting kind of bored," I said, playfully.

"Well I know how to fix that, but-" Zayn smirked, but I cut him off.

"No! Is that all you think about?"

"Umm yeah basically." He said, in a matter-of-fact tone. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Guys are stupid."

"Well except me,"

"Nope. Even you." I got up and stretched, then wandered around his small, but cozy apartment. Zayn followed behind me. I passed his room then saw a closed door at the end of the hallway.

"What's in there?" I asked, pointing to it.

"Open it." So I opened the door and stood in awe. The who room was lined with artworks of all sort. There were paintings, drawings, sketches, and even a few sculptures.

Whoa. You did all this?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I need to make money somehow."

"So you're an artist?"

"Well kind of. I have a small job, but I do murals and portraits for people and businesses."

"These are amazing Zayn!" I exclaimed. He scratched the back of his neck, as if he wasn't that proud of them. I looked at each painting one by one. Most were nature-related. There were a few sketches and drawings pertaining to comics and such.

Zayn grabbed a pencil and a notepad and gestured to the stool against the wall.

"Here, I'll draw you."

"No you don't have to."

"But I want to." So I sat down on the stool. I crossed my legs and tried to keep my back straight with a perfect posture.

"How do I look?" I grinned.

"Like you're trying too hard," he laughed. "Just relax. Be yourself." I laughed too and then put both my feet up so I was sitting criss-cross on the stool.

"Now?" I asked, laughing.

"Perfect." Then, he started sketching, glancing up every couple seconds to get another detail. "You can talk you."

"What do you want me to talk about?" I ask, giggling.

"How much you love me," he teased me. This almost took me by surprise. As much as I liked him, I didn't know if our realtionship has gotten that far. He noticed my hesitation and stopped drawing, with worry on his face. "Did I say something?"