Just tell me you hate me (zayn malik fanfiction)

chapter 5

The car trip was silent, during the time all I did was pear out the window trying to admirer the city but, the only thing I had on my mine was dreading the fact that I have to stay in the same house as this asshole for the next year until he sorts his pathetic life out.

I watched him as he was driving, with yet another cigarette pressed firmly between his lips and every now and again he would take a deep drag and then release the smoke out the open window into the cold London air.  

I then see his eyes flick towards me in the review mirror, not wanting to start any unnecessary argument I quickly looked away focusing out the window

“So… arh where you from?”

What the fuck, after everything he just said, he wants to know where I’m from? I quickly glance over to him but his he was no longer even looking at me, he was just focusing out towards the road with the same stern expression on his face

“New York, I’m from New York.” as if he cared

I watch him as his expression on his face didn’t change, nor did he even take any notice that I had even replied

“New York? I fucking hate New York, too many god dam people”

God he’s an asshole

“really? Wow you just seem like a people person.”

I watched as his hands tightened on the wheel as slight smirk slowly crept over my face, I then looked up at the mirror where I could see his gaze staring right at me, any second now I thought he was going to drive off a cliff before jumping out at the last minute leaving me to die

“look if you’re going to be a sarcastic bitch, you can get the fuck out of my car and can walk!”

Not wanting to say anything I just decided to look out the window trying to contain my anger

“that’s what I thought” i heard him murmured

Another awkward silence passed then finally we arrive and holey shit, this place resembled a god dam castle.

As we drove in through the tall steel gates I came across a tall, elegant yet extravagant house, it was beautiful.

“Wait you live here?” I ask him in astonishment

“Yeah, got a problem?”

“So you’re the only one that lives here?”

“Yes for fucks sakes” he said while beginning to become irritated he bought the car to a complete stop outside the front steps. Without another word he then got out of the Porsche, walked straight up to the steps through the front door and slammed it behind him.

“are you fucking serious? God he’s such a cunt” I said to myself, I then open up the boot of the car staring at all my bags

“how the fuck am I supposed to carry all this?”

One by one I carried the bags up the steps and through the front door, the house was beautiful, it really was, I don’t see how people like him gets it so easy.

“Zayn?” I yelled out but got no answer, it felt abit airy and the house was massive

“Zayn!” I shouted one more time “where the fuck are you?” I whispered to myself

Still no reply I decided to go look around

As I walked out of the lobby I can came across a large living room with huge glass sliding doors looking out towards the city, it was so beautiful, my focus then turned to the empty vodka bottles scattered across the coffee table, ok so he’s an alcoholic-

All of a sudden I felt a large hand roughly grab my shoulder and jerk me around

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” “who the fuck told you, you could just fucking walk around my house?”  

“what?” 

With a tight grip on my fore arm he took a step closer, so close that not only could I smell the sting of cigarettes and his spicy cologne but I could now feel his white top slightly brushing against my arm leaving a tingly sensation

“I said, what the fuck you are doing” his voice was a lot quieter, in fact he was almost whispering

I shrugged my arm from his grasp “I was looking for you, I need to know where I’m sleeping”

He then stepped back with his eyes still locked on mine, the expression on his face slightly softened  

“oh.. it’s upstairs, third door to the left” he said firmly yet softer then bofore

As he was about to turn away I grab his arm

“Wait, can you help me with my bags?”

He flinched a little at my touch then turned around pushing my hand away

“What the fuck do I look like? Your maid?”

I stepped back a little and completely resented the fact that I even tried to touch him

“Well, there’s a lot of bags and-

“Not my problem”

“oh and hurry the fuck up with the unpacking, Paul just texted me, were having dinner at seven, oh and where something decent, I don’t want people to think I have a fuck ugly girlfriend that also dresses like a hobo” and with that he turned around to walk out 

did he seriously just call me fuck ugly?