Fourth

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My Darling,

That's always been my favourite thing to call you. It suits you in the simplest sense. Polite, sweet, beautiful are all words that seem to spring to my mind whenever I call you by the delightful term of endearment. I remember the first time I'd ever called you that.

~

"Zayn, wake up!"

I ignored the constant pestering coming from my boyfriend. So what if we had an interview this morning? We always have interviews. We can afford to be a couple of minutes late.

"Zayn, a car will be here to collect us any minute! You need to wake up."

I heard a loud huff. The room went silent.

I mentally cheered at the small victory and buried myself even deeper into the blankets, prepared to revel in the heat of them and drift back into my unconscious state.

I felt the bed dip next to me, the warmth of Harry's presence engulfing me. I blissfully sighed.

I, suddenly, felt a light pressure on my abdomen. I ignored it. Cold fingertips glided down my torso causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin. They stopped just above my waistline, dancing over the smooth surface. Then it was your lips pressed against my chest, planting soft kisses there, and then they were placing a kiss on my mouth and then I was awake and kissing back because how could I not.

We pulled apart.

Our bodies glued together and our hearts beating erratically in our chests. Our foreheads leaning against each other.

"I'm awake." I whispered, our lips were barely touching.

"Good." He whispered.

"I love you, darling." I said.

"Darling?" He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah."

"I like it."

~

And after that day, the term seemed to stick. Perhaps because you told me you liked it when I called you that or maybe because I liked calling you that. Maybe a mixture of both. But it also represented the kiss that we shared under the covers on that cold Thursday morning when I was too lazy to get out of bed.

Love,

Zayn

~

A/N: This story will be set before Zayn left One Direction as to not mess with the plot.

-Savannah

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