Two weeks with Mr.Selfish

Part 3

Part 3

When I sat down at the table later that evening, around six, there was an undeniable tension lying heavy in the air. After a long day of classes, my agitation only heightened when I'd realized that the address scribbled messily on the piece of paper tucked in my wallet was the address to one of the most expensive bistros in area. It was also one of the furthest from my apartment, and the travel time had caused a rage to slowly boil trough my veins.

Zayn was sitting as comfortable as ever in his seat, leaning back casually and taking long drags from a cigarette. I'd brushed past the stiff-looking maître D, who'd given both me an my clothing a disgusted glance, and made my way to the table placed in a far corner. Zayn didn't look at me as I stood at the table, just continued to smoke quietly and stare unfocused ahead. I cleared my throat, crossing my arms, my eyebrows furrowed together, and he finally let his eyes shift to mine.

'You're late,' He drawled, his accent heavy. He took a slow inhale from the fag between his lips and released it as I sat down, the smoke fanning into my face in a steady stream. I coughed, waving my hand trough the air to rid my breathing passage of the burning smoke.

'And you're blowing smoke in my face,' I retaliated trough a sputter of cough, my tear ducts watering slightly.

The end of the cigarette turned a soft amber colour as his eyes shifted behind me again, unfocused and hooded in indifference. His lips parted slightly and another stream of smoke escaped them, again fanning against my face and causing a series of dry coughs to escape my throat. 'Do you have an excuse for you late arrival?'

'I have an excuse,' I coughed; my head darted out of the path of his fading smoke. 'If you'd stop blowing smoke in my face, I could tell you.'

His gaze shifted to mine, brown and uninterested and absolutely infuriating and although he didn't answer, I felt a small jolt of relief as he leaned down and pressed the end of his bud into the ashtray with two long fingers.

'Thanks,' I snapped, reaching down for the glass of water in front of me. I took a long sip, relishing the feeling of the cool water sliding down, and set the glass back in its position. 'I'm late because it was a long walked.'

'Walk?' he repeated, cocking a dark eyebrow. 'You walked here?'

'Yes,' I glared. 'It was a good eight miles.'

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. 'You're an idiot if you walked here. You could have taken a cab.'

'I don't have money for a cab,' I snapped, 'Though I wish I did because I want to get this over with.'

'Nah' he smirked, the corner of his lips curling slightly. His perfect white teeth shining right in my face. I found my gaze locked on his lips longer than I wanted. 'We're going to enjoy our meals first, then we'll talk business.'

I let out a short, dry laugh as I looked down at the elaborate menu in front of me. 'Sorry but I'm not going to be enjoying anything. I don't think I can afford a cup of coffee here, let alone a meal.'

'I figured as much,' he muttered, the smirk still evident on his mouth. 'Which is why I took the liberty or ordering for you.'

I was at a loss of words. My eyes widened slightly and flitted over his features, looking for any sign of sarcasm and malice, but alas there was none. 'You.. you what?'

'What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't order my guest something?' he smiled slightly, and for the first time I met him, I felt something settle in my chest that wasn't the usual disgust or confusion or annoyance. He glanced behind me and his eyes lit up, his head cocking up slightly and nodding in the direction. 'Ah, there comes our waiter now. Perfect timing.'