Life With Mr. Malik (ON HOLD)

Chapter 17: Wild For A Night

So, the party didn't go as well as Zayn had intended it to be because of my encounter with Mr. Davenport, but that didn't stop me from getting my party on! I had quickly forgotten about his pathetic threat when Louis introduced me to Cara Delevingne because he thought that if I hung out with models more often, they'd rub off on me. Initially, I didn't really want to talk to her because I hated models a lot because of how shallow they were and all that, not to mention the extreme superficiality, but the moment Cara spoke to me, I had the biggest paradigm shift of my life.

"My god, these leggings are so tight; I can taste the leather." She said, making a face as she began relieving herself of the wedgie as discreetly as she could.

Wow, four seconds in and I'm already thinking of asking Cara to marry me . . .

Let's get one thing straight, folks.

I'm straighter than the Sesame Street ruler you had for kindergarten. That's right! I'm not lesbian, and I have just about enough photos of topless male actors to prove it.

I blinked at her. "That has to be the most unconventional greeting ever."

She smiled at me and laughed. "You thought I was going to be one of those models who cared only about tanned bodies and stilettos, didn't you?"

I wanted to shake my head, but she quickly saw right through me. "Yeah, sort of."

She smiled again, and I realized how stupid I must've been because if you saw what Cara dressed up as for the party, her being a superficial bimbo would be the last thing on your mind. Yes, ladies and gents, Cara Delevingne arrived to a party wearing a bacon strip costume.

"So, I like your costume." I said.

"Yeah?" Cara looked down at what she was wearing. "I asked my manager what I should do to make this party memorable and he automatically said 'STRIP' so bacon strip it is, then!"

I snorted much too loud than I had intended, covering my mouth in horror. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snort. I have this really, really bad condition. I overreact to anything. Honest! This one time, my best friend got German measles and had to stay off school for a week, I was so devastated that I sent her handmade Get Well Soon cards every day." I held up a finger when she showed signs of wanting to speak. "If you don't think that's bad, you should know the cards involved lame but original sayings like 'Don't be an airhead; stay in bed' and 'Think of your hospital bills so drink those pills!'"

Way to go, Miles! You get the opportunity of a lifetime to talk to an awesome international model and you blow it!

Four claps for you, Mildred.

Four slow claps.

"Louis did warn me you tend to monopolize the conversation." She said this with an amused look and I began to worry if in her eyes, I had morphed into a circus clown.

Oh sweet baby Jesus, I'm doing everything all wrong.

"No, you're doing just fine."

Wait, I was thinking out loud?!

"Yup and you still are."

I think now's the perfect time to quote Jean Valjean from Les Miserables.

GOD ON HIGH, HEAR MY PRAYER.

"You're the cutest thing, Mildred. You seriously need to meet the other girls." Cara said, breaking my fingers in her grip.

"B-but I don't want to," I whispered.

I could barely talk to one model, let alone a whole group of them! I'm not good at socializing! That's basically the reason I only have one best friend. Okay, maybe I have two but the other one's an alpaca stuff toy so I don't think that counts. I got it in middle school when my entire class went to the local zoo for a field trip. An alpaca got one of the popular girls' tacky fedora hat, and I'm not the least bit ashamed to say I worship the animal to this day.

Ignoring what I said, Cara clutched my hand and pushed past the crowd to get to the other side of the room where the other VS models stayed. When we got there, they all turned their heads toward me, and I could feel my cheeks turning every damn shade of pink and red in the color wheel.

I raised my hand in shoulder level before pulling the Star Trek sign.

What idiot faces a group of girls with inhumanly well toned bodies and holds a hand up, sticking together her index and middle finger and doing the same with her ring finger and pinky?!

Me.

I didn't think it could have been any more disastrous but I proved myself wrong when I said . . .

"In peace, I come."

Yoda talk: check. Dorky hand gesture: check.

Yo Miles, your awkward is showing.

They all burst out laughing, giving me a peek of their pearly whites that indeed looked more like small pearls than actual teeth. One of them unglued herself from her seat, approached me and Cara, and offered us martinis.

"Adriana, she doesn't drink." Cara said as she took a glass.

"Lima, Adriana?!" I squeaked. "Y-y-you're Adriana Lima."

The two of them shared another hearty laugh and once again, I felt like wanting to evaporate into thin air out of humiliation.

"Anyway, the girls and I were thinking of heading to the club downtown for a girls' night out. You two want to join us?" She asked me, flicking her perfect hair behind her perfect shoulder.

Cara and I looked at each other then, at what each other was wearing. It was obvious we were thinking the same thing, and that was that a Corpse Bride and a strip of bacon weren't exactly what we would call 'party outfits.'

"In case you haven't noticed"- Cara spoke up with a cheeky grin -"Mildred and I are really dressed for the occasion, if you catch my drift."

"Go to club, I must not." I piped in, apparently still in Yoda mode. "Scare people, I will."

"Don't worry! My apartment's a five-minute drive from here. We could drop by to freshen up a bit, get you two new clothes and be at the club in no time. It's Halloween, girls! Let's own this night!" She cried out enthusiastically, sounding a lot like a character from Gossip Girl.

I'm serious! Her words made me feel as if we were seconds away from formulating our plan on how to break into a store to steal some hair products. I gulped and began scratching the side of my head where the fake knife stuck out. Was it a good idea? I mean, yeah, it's not every day that you get to go party with models and real ones, at that (no offense, me) but something tells me this isn't going to end well.

Plus, what would Zayn think?

"We could just tell Zayn we're borrowing you." Cara said and although the hole in the bacon costume was a little too small for her face, I could tell she was trying to smile.

And without having to hear a reply from me, they all grabbed me and walked to where Zayn was. Adriana wrapped an arm around my shoulder, called Zayn's attention and looked down at me, signalling me to speak with a nod. I gulped when he eyed me eagerly. I've always known how powerful eye contact with Zayn was but tonight, it was on an entirely different level! I felt like his eyes were tearing my soul apart. Like, I can actually hear myself screaming internally and to be honest, I sound more like a goat than a girl.

"Well?"

"To the club, I want to go."

He squinted at me before turning his gaze to Adriana. "What happened to her?" He stood from his seat and walked to me, placing a hand on my forehead. "Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to take you home already?"

I shook my head and inhaled, hoping to finally regain my IQ. "I want to go to the club with the girls."

BLESS MOTHER TERESA, I'M SMART AGAIN.

"Fine," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I'm coming along."

With that said, he gathered all his things, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and placing his car keys in his pockets. Holding my hand, we left the party with the group of girls behind us. The walk to Adriana's car was a little awkward mainly because I realized Zayn wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the models, seeing as how it was Harry who had always interacted with them.

To top it all off, Adriana's car wasn't in the designated parking lot but was at the other end of the street and when we crossed, you would not believe how many people stared at us. But no one could blame them. I mean, Corpse Couple followed by a strip of bacon and models?

Not an everyday sight.

The drive was even more awkward, to be honest. Because the car couldn't really accommodate a group of ten, Zayn and I were forced to sit together on the passenger seat with me on his lap. And on the way to Adriana's apartment, Zayn whispered "Miles, your knife almost jabbed my eye" about thirty-seven times. I wanted to take my headband off but I couldn't really do that because if I did, I might have blocked Adriana's view and the next thing you know, it was bye world and hello Jesus.

When we got to her apartment, all the girls dashed straight to a room to our left, obviously familiar with the place. Zayn looked down at me, smiled reassuringly and took my hand as we stepped in.

If my jaw wasn't screwed on straight, it would have dropped to the floor because bless my eyeballs, her "closet" was about as big as my bedroom.

Maybe even bigger?

"Here, Mildred, this'll do your hair color justice." Cara said, smiling while she stroked my brunette hair. In her hand, she held a red clean-cut dress that looked like it was tighter than the bacon costume.

Not just that but I was sure it went about three inches above my knee.

Hell to the no!

You ain't catching me in that. No, sir! I object! Goodbye. Exit's to the right. Don't hit your delusional ass on the way out, folks.

Zayn took one look at the dress Cara handed me and shook his head, his eyes cold. "No, definitely not. She isn't wearing something that showy. No way!"

A girl next to the shoe rack scoffed. "Who are you, her dad?"

"No, I'm her boyfriend and I don't want her going out, looking like that." Zayn replied coolly and took the dress from me, thrusting it into Cara's hands. "Can't you get her something a little less . . . model-like?"

Although I did feel overwhelmed by how un-Miles the dress looked, I figured why not? If I'm going to convince people I'm a model then shouldn't I act like one? I don't mean the prissiness but the confidence!

"Hey Zayn, I actually want to try it out."

"No, you don't."

"I do!"

He shook his head, turned to face Cara and pointed to me. "What did you feed this?"

"This?"

"Nothing!" Adriana said with a scowl that made her look even more fierce. "Zayn, why are you so against Mildred showing some skin. It's perfectly normal for an eighteen year-old and plus, isn't she a Brazilian model? Don't you know how steamy photoshoots there are?"

Obliged to stick to the lie we've been feeding the world, Zayn looked at me and sighed. "Fine."

All the girls cheered and clapped, making mine and Zayn's lips curl upward.

"If a guy tries to hit on you though, I'm breaking his neck." He whispered before the girls grabbed me, shoving me to the dressing room to fix me up which I was sure would require more than twenty minutes.

And even if I wanted to claw the girls for inflicting so much pain on me (I was burnt with the hair curler much too many times because I kept wriggling in my seat), Zayn's words played in my head like a ritual chant.

He was being really possessive over me and I was going to be transformed into a Greek goddess in the hands of eight magicians, all of which had hot bods.

Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

+ + +

"Oh my god, just one more!" Adriana squealed.

"How are you doing that?!"

They crowded around me as I placed the seventh marshmallow in my mouth.

Somewhere in my conversation with Cara, I brought up the Chubby Bunny Challenge and told her I've never lost at it.

So, basically, at a table located at the corner of a room full of sweaty bodies dancing against each other, I was demonstrating my ability to place a ton of marshmallows in my mouth in front of VS models.

I swear, nothing normal ever occurs when I'm around.

When they had had enough of my marshmallow-stuffing skills, Adriana raised a hand to call for one of the barmen. She asked him for a couple of shots, making my eyes widen at the sudden transition of activities. They can't be serious, right? I usually washed down marshmallows with milk and now, I'm going to let alcohol do the job?!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I said while shaking my head. "There's no way you're going to make me drink," I paused as the barman placed a tray of shots in front of us; the liquid gave off a strong smell, "that."

One of the models excitedly took a glass. "You know what, girls? We should play a game."

We all looked at her, waiting to know what she had in mind. All the other models smiled at one another while I just sat there in complete silence.

This might sound dumb but I was actually scared even if I didn't know what was coming.

"What do you girls want to play? How about another round of Chubby Bunny?" I suggested hopefully, ready to tear open another pack of marshmallows.

Cara took the bag from me and replaced it with a shot glass. "It's a tradition, Mildred. We always play this game when there's a newbie around." She crossed one leg over the other before she continued. "Okay, so here's how it goes. It's basically like Truth Or Dare but they're all just dares."

"What if I don't want to do the dare?! What then?" I squeaked.

They all smiled, turning their gaze to the glass in my hand.

I laughed loudly and put down the drink, pushing it away from me as far as I could to show them my disapproval. "No way."

Never in a million years will I drink alcohol! It's totally repulsive! It smells gross, tastes gross and looks gross. Plus, when consumed in large amounts, it makes a person do all sorts of crazy things! Like, I once saw Austin drunk at my first High School party when I was sixteen and since then, I've sworn never to drink too much.

Picture this.

Austin singing Bad Romance shirtless on top of the dining table.

And when I had tried to get him to step down, he simply caressed my cheek and said. "Mother Monster's not quite finished yet."

It was a crazy night.

Before Cara could egg me on some more, Zayn plopped down on the seat beside me, draping an arm over my shoulder. "What's up, ladies?"

"You were in the men's room for a while." Adriana said with a chuckle.

"I ran into fans."

Her brow arched. "In the bathroom?"

He squinted at her. "Outside."

Adriana shrugged and decided to move on to the more important topic. "Anyway, we were about to play the Shots Game with Mildred. Now, I know you're probably going to stick up for her like you always do and in a very annoying way, if I might add, but please allow her to do something fun just this once!"

"She's not playing anything she doesn't want to play." Zayn said as he twirled a strand of my hair in his finger, making my heart hammer in my chest.

What was up with me?! He's done it so many times before and I only swoon now . . . I guess I wasn't used to too much public display of affection which was a little ironic since our relationship was originally for publicism.

"Don't be such party poopers, you guys!" One model, a redhead, said with a smug smirk on her face.

I didn't really want them thinking how big of a loser I was, even if I was practically the biggest in the field. Most girls my age have already lost their v-card and yet here I was, refusing to play a game that involved a few shots. Basically, God dumped in the entire vial of loser in my sack to add a little diversity in the homo sapiens sapiens species.

What did I tell you?

I'm such a nerd.

For goodness' sake, I'm thinking about human evolution here! At a club!

Disgusted with my nerdy attitude, I gave in to their pleas and joined the game. Adriana squealed in delight, giving me the glass while the other girls cheered.

"See how you like it." She said.

I took the glass in my hands and looked up at Zayn who merely gave me a reassuring smile, squeezing my shoulder lightly. With a deep breath, I pinched my eyes shut as I downed my drink, wanting to spit it out immediately but was able not to.

Thank god, to be honest. The last thing I needed was an article about me giving models a shower of alcohol.

"How was it?" Zayn asked as he tried to keep himself from smiling.

I winced. "Not so good."

"Are you sure you want to play?"

I nodded and somehow, this signalled Adriana to stand up and take an empty beer bottle from the table next to us. She placed it on ours the same way one would to play Truth Or Dare or should I say Name Who You Like Or Exchange Salivas With Someone.

"Alright, let's do this!" Cara exclaimed as she leaned forward to spin the bottle.

And staying true to the fact that I was and still am a magnet for misfortune, it pointed to me right away.

"Hmm, I dare you to feel Zayn up." Adriana said as she bobbed her eyebrows up and down, making the rest of the models laugh.

Zayn laughed along. "God, that's going to make her so uncomfortable."

The redhead gasped almost too dramatically. "She's never done it before?"

I shook my head with a gulp added in.

"Not even when you have steamy make out sessions?"

"No," I whispered out of embarrassment as I realized Zayn most likely had a long line of ex-girlfriends who led more exciting lives than mine.

If you haven't already found out for yourself, I wasn't a very touchy feely person. In fact, I hated physical contact, and Zayn was probably the first boyfriend I've had who I didn't mind kissing.

I just do not understand the point of spending a full five minutes shoving your tongue in someone's mouth and flicking it around a bit.

I may or may not have single-handedly ruined 'making out' for you all, but I regret absolutely nothing!

Adriana's lips formed a small, "Oh."

Even if the mere thought of intimacy scared and grossed me out, I found the situation humiliating!

SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!

Let me slither into a dark cave and mourn my lame life for all eternity.

"So, drink up." Adriana said as she poured me another glass.

I looked down at it and without thinking twice, pushed it away. After grabbing Zayn by the collar, I slipped my hands through the hem of his polo and ran them across his torso. His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink when I had gotten to his chest.

"Okay, that'll do." I said as I withdrew my hands and laced them awkwardly together on my lap.

Next to me, I could feel Zayn's breaths deepening.

Was he not used to being felt up as much I was not used to feeling people up?

"He obviously liked it." Cara grinned mischievously. "How are you feeling?"

"Hot," Zayn said as if he were out of breath, making everyone laugh.

The best part of it was that I did too.

I was actually liking this new Miles, bold and daring.

The night went on and I had to gulp down a few more glasses because Adriana and Cara's dares were getting harder with every turn. And by the time I had swallowed my seventh glass, I was beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

"Sleepy, sleepy." I slurred, hiccuping as I kicked off my heels and lowered my head to rest it on Zayn's lap.

He began stroking my hair and I could have sworn I heard a few girls swoon.

"Do you guys want to go home?" One of them asked. I couldn't tell if it was Adriana. Or Cara. Or maybe the redhead who looked like she could use a haircut.

I opened my eyes a bit to see the redhead, smiling to myself when her hair color reminded me of spicy Cheetos.

"Pretty hair," I murmured.

They laughed.

"Yours?" Zayn asked me.

"No, no. Spicy Cheetos hair." I said and I wasn't exactly sure if I had pointed to the right girl.

They laughed again.

"I think I better take her home." I heard Zayn say.

"Stay me wants to right here." I replied, forgetting the basic rules of grammar and proper sentence structure. Drunk Miles was much, much worse than Yoda Miles.

"No, babe." He said and before I had the chance to object, he gently lifted my head from his lap, stood up and scooped me under his arms, bridal style.

"We married?" Whoa, say hello to Ghetto Miles.

"Only if you want us to be."

"Okay."

He laughed softly before kissing my cheek. "Okay."

The ride back home wasn't all that bad, if I'm being honest here. Carlson helped bring me inside the limousine, and I had fallen asleep instantly on Zayn's shoulder.

When we arrived at my house, I was honestly already half-conscious.

Like, I could think straight and I knew how to speak again.

And in well-constructed sentences too, mind you.

But I guess I was having much too fun seeing how Zayn would handle a drunk Miles, so I pretended.

Yeah, yeah.

Go rant about how bad of a girlfriend I am! Seeing Zayn struggle was cute, okay!

And he looked super ultra sexy whenever he knit his eyebrows together in deep thought.

Zayn rang the doorbell and no sooner than he stepped back, the door opened.

"Zayn? What happened to Miles?" I recognized Austin's voice. Much to my amusement, it sounded a lot more big-brotherlike than usual.

"Too much alcohol."

"Dad's going to be home soon, and he's not going to like this." Austin replied, and I tried to send him the message that I was praying he'd keep it from dad.

Work, sibling telepathy!

WERK IT, GURL.

"But if we tuck her in her bed, dad wouldn't notice." Austin continued. "Come on."

Ding ding ding ding! Message successfully sent.

Zayn transferred me to my brother's arms as gently as he could, and the two of them ascended the stairs, making their way to my bedroom.

The next thing I knew, I had been lain down on my bed with a blanket covering me. I turned to my left and pretended to snore softy.

"You didn't take advantage of the situation, did you?" Austin's voice came back after he had fluffed my hotdog pillow and placed it between my arms; his voice evidently carried a tone of concern. "Her being drunk and all?"

"No."

"Is my sister not hot enough?" He added in jokingly.

Austin, you better feel lucky I'm pretending to be asleep right now or else, I would kick your balls so hard, you'd forget your own name.

Zayn laughed. "She's very hot. I'll give you that much, but I'm not that type of person. I respect Miles." He paused. "She's actually the best girlfriend I've had so far. "

"You know what?"

"What?"

"You're not so much the abusive tattoo-loving drunkard they show in magazines. You're actually alright." Austin said, and I could tell there was a smile on his face.

This made Zayn laugh his cute laugh again (make him stop before I internally combust). "And you're not the roadkill type of overprotective big brother I thought I would feel like beating up."

Knowing it was safe to do so and that they wouldn't notice, I smiled because that night, I was certain my brother no longer wanted Zayn's head mounted on his wall.

Okay, let's be a little more realistic here.

At least fifty percent of him didn't.