Sleepyhead

The Lark Family Circus

“How do you—erm, I mean, how do I set this thing up?”

“You just…you press the button,”

“Zayn,” I whined, jumping up and down in my place, throwing a bit of a tantrum. “I don’t see the button.”

“Babe,” he groaned, throwing his arm into the air. “Look with your eyes.”

“Ugh,” I cried, throwing my body against the bed and rolling around a bit. “I’m helpless.”

“I’ve noticed!”

I’d successfully been the proud owner of a MacBook Pro for three days and I still haven’t been able to work it. Like, at all. I’ve always been a Windows girl, used to the shiny little start button on the bottom left and being able to click things with the right side of the mouse. But now I’m stuck with this white, sleek little thing with something called a dock and a mouse pad that doesn’t have separated sides!

Blasphemy!

Zayn had been attempting to teach me how to use it. I could barely find the pictures folder on his MacBook, when it was already logged in and used. But the bugger was spending more time in front of the mirror, testing new hairstyles while went through a series of bipolar-like reactions, from dancing about in my knickers to fake sobbing against the bed to making kissy faces at him through the mirror.

“You know,” I called, rolling over on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. “It’s my birthday in exactly nineteen minutes.”

“Nineteen minutes until you’re nineteen,” Zayn quipped from the bathroom. He poked his head out the door. “Nineteen minutes left of being eighteen.”

“How should I spend these last few minutes?” I asked, purposefully rolling again to my side, posing a bit like Rose from Titanic, except I actually had a top on. Speaking of that, why was I still wearing my bra? S’not like Zayn hadn’t seen the girls before. Or you know, met the girls. Touched the girls. Played with them. “Oi, Zayn.”

“Yeah, babe?” he was still poking his head out the door.

I licked my lips, “Paint me like one of your French girls?”

He barked a laugh, staring at me for a moment as I grinned. He stopped laughing for a moment, his eyes falling over my body for a moment. He seemed to ponder the thought before barking another sudden laugh.

“What?” I asked playfully, swiping my hand down my sides in display of my fabulous body. “Like what you see?”

Zayn just laughed again, moving back into the bathroom.

I pouted, “You’re ignoring me and it’s my birthday.”

“Not yet!” he sang. “Eighteen minutes now!”

“Tosser!” I cried, falling backwards. “I know how we could spend these last few minutes of eighteen but you seem to be uninterested in that bit…”

That got his attention. Zayn waltzed out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers that showed off just about every lovely aspect of him. I quirked an eyebrow, looking up at his face to find that he was staring at me with an unreadable expression. 

“Scoot over,” he swatted at me, hands slapping against my bare thighs. I cried out in pain, but moved over nonetheless. He knelt on the floor, leaning over the edge of the bed, tugging my laptop towards him. He did some magic things with his hands (we all know he already has those capabilities…am I right? YOLO) and suddenly I was on the Internet.

“Ooooh!” I yelped, sliding so that I was kneeling next to him. “You’re a fucking wizard!”

Zayn laughed, “I think technology is the only thing on the planet that you don’t mix well with.”