Zayn Imagine:
His hand fell on mine as he tried to snatch my notebook from me. The soft prickles on his fingertips sent shivers down my spine. The touch of his fingers made my skin turn warm. He stared into my eyes, he drew his breath before keeping contact with me. I didn't gaze off, but instead, I stared at our hands. I desperately wanted to kiss him right now. I couldn't tell if he felt the sam...e way. I wanted to know if he could feel the spark between us or if it was just me. As I thought about his gorgeous eyes, he took his hand off mine. He took my notebook of sketches from me opening to the first few pages. I tried to steal my notebook back, not wanting him to see the sketches I drew of him in class when I got bored. He chuckled as he skimmed through looking through my artwork and my doodles. Almost every other page was a scribble of nothingness. Now in class, instead of drawing, I was staring off. Staring off at him. His hair when it hit the sunlight, his smile when he'd tell a funny joke, the way he twisted his fingers around when he got nervous, all the little things about him. Our skin touched again. For a brief second there was a silence. A cold howling silence. We looked into each other's eyes sparks flying through our fingertips. He quickly pulled away, just as I did. Zayn shot me a glare, a smile, before he turned away once again, opening up to a portrait of him. He may have not known it was him, but as he stared at it, his mouth gawked open. He turned to me, his face in awe of the drawing. His lips curved upward. "It's incredible." His accent flowed from his mouth. His lips hitting each other in perfect sync. "Wow. It's-" He choked on his spit. "Beautiful. Is it- Never mind.." He trailed off before flipping to the next page. Another portrait of him, but from behind. He looked into my eyes, a deep gaze. A laugh. He didn't speak for a minute, he examined the picture. He looked around the classroom and back at me. His eyes widened. He coughed. The corners of his lips began to rise as he stared into my eyes. "Who is it?" I could hear his voice crack. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I could tell by the way he asked that he already knew the answer. He just wanted it to be confirmed. I kept my mouth shut for a few minutes, staring at his eyes. I felt my heart begin to race. He scratched the back of his head waiting for an answer. He slowly leaned in, his lips closing, letting the air stop hitting his lungs. His eyelashes fluttered. I watched as he leaned closer, and closer. He softly kissed me on the lips. "Thank you." I didn't know why he was thanking me. He hasn't even noticed me before he stole my notebook. He sat straight up. "What else have you drawn?" I could feel air stuck in my lungs. This wasn't how he was supposed to kiss me. Did he want to? Or did he feel pressured? My shoulder began to ache from stress.
