He's No Good - Zayn Malik

Chapter 28: Guilt

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I wake up by the sound of my phone ringing. My eyes shoot wide open, and I sit up and pull off the covers staring out in my room. The phone stops ringing.

My head is throbbing a little from drinking last night, and I yawn rubbing my eyes. It must be around midday, since the sun is lighting up my room almost completely through my thin white curtains. 

I reach for my phone, as the events of last night flash through my memory. I run my hand through my hair, as my phone starts ringing again. It's Tamara. 

- "Zoe, what happened last night!? Where were you?" her voice is loud and she's speaking so fast that my - still sleepy - brain almost can't follow.



I remember Harry walking me home. He kept stealing glances at my face, checking if I was ok. I think he could tell something was up, but he didn't ask, which I was grateful for. Maybe he had seen what happened? I kind of hope he hasn't though.

- "Harry walked me home early.." I rub my eyes and yawn. 

- "Oh alright.. 'Cause I spoke to Niall. He said that Liam walked - or rather carried - Zayn home and into bed. Apparently he'd found him somewhere outside completely blacked out. He even puked on the lawn just outside his house.. What happened!?" I sigh. I really don't have the energy to explain right now.

- "Can't we meet and talk later? I just woke up, please Tam?" 

We end the call I check the time. It's 2pm, and I have 7 missed calls, in which 4 of them are from Zayn - and a message from him, that I received 10 minutes ago. I haven't checked my phone since leaving to attend the after party.

- "Hey um..." His voice sounds deep and throaty, suggesting he has slept in as well. "..I'm really sorry.. I was a jerk last night. To be honest I don't even remember that much.. Umm.. Call me back, I need to see you," I notice that his morning voice makes his Bradford accent even stronger, which makes me almost swoon before I stop myself.



I resist calling him back, and decide to go down and get me some breakfast.



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Zayn's POV



Define the worst hangover. My head is killing me, and all muscles throughout my body hurt. I'm lying flat on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, as I feel too tired to do anything else.
I try to remember how I got home last night, but it's all a dark blurr. 

The pain and exhaustion isn't the worst thing. Last night, I had gotten a text from Harry - send from Zoe's phone - telling me to "keep my filthy hands off her", which speaks for itself. 

I get out a cigarette and put it between my lips as I light it and inhale. I slowly blow the smoke out again, and watch as it floads upwards blending with the air. I take another drag and repeat.

I don't remember much from last night, besides drinking and laughing with my friends - those pink pills. I vaguely remember the heated make-out session with Zoe, but also that I couldn't find it in me to stop. I have a feeling that things got pretty ugly. 

I think back on the last time Zoe was here in my room with me, and how we had talked and then made out on the bed.

I take a big drag of my cigarette, sweeping my hand slowly across the sheets of my bed, remembering her small sobs and breaths of pleasure, as I nibbled on her neck. If only she new how much pleasure I could give her. I find myself tugging at the sheets, drifting away into my imagination, as I notice the sudden bulge in my sweatpants.

I get off my bed and open the window to let some of the smoke out. I've smoked the entire packet. I throw my cigarette out the window as well, before throwing myself back on my bed again. There must be a pile of cigarette butts out there by now. 

I remember the look on Zoe's face, after trying to, basically, have my way with her. Beautiful brown eyes filled with worry and panic. Normally I probably wouldn't feel guilty over a girl, but Zoe's not any girl. I wonder how bad it was, though knowing my drunk self I must have been all over her and definetly crossing the line.



I don't remember drinking that much, but obviously enough to shamelessly accept the drugs I was offered by the boys. 

She would be awake by now. I think, checking my phone for the fifth time today. I called her like 4 times earlier, and left a message asking her to call me, though she still hasn't called me back. 

I decide to go down and swallow another aspirin with a red bull. Walking past my mirror, I frown at my pale, tired reflection. 

Things were just starting to work between us, and I almost haven't even spoken to another girl since I met her, let alone slept with someone. I can't help but worry that I have ruined everything. What the fuck have I done?

It annoys me how much I care.

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Zoe's POV



- "He what!? And you said no?" She doesn't let me answer before she continues - but yea I guess. "You know I read somewhere that in Sweden, at the point where a girl says no and the man keeps touching her it's rape, also even thought he doesn't actually rape her.. It's law!" she's talking fast, her voice loud and shrill.



I pull down the sleeves of my sweater, to cover up the faint but sore finger sized bruise, that I had showed her, where Zayn's thumb had bored into my bone on each of my wrists.
I roll my eyes, trying to calm her down. I should have known she'd freak out and make such a big deal out of it. I should have never said anything. Though I'm also grateful that she cares so much.

- "We're not in Sweden, Tam, and it's not helping. It wasn't that bad," I don't even remember it clearly. "And I'm sure he wasn't just drunk, him and those friends of his were definitely on something stronger," I add. 

She nods, looking not very surprised.



- "You can't tell the others. Please?" She nods again. Even though she is a gossip girl, I know I can trust her.

We sit in an un-awkward silence for a while as we finish our coffees. Luckily the caffeine has taken away my headache and I feel much more awake now. 

We are at the café we went to the other day as well, sitting at the same spot at the window. It's another hot day today. It's strange, mostly the British summers are gray and rainy

- "Zou.. Maybe you should just forget about him, you know?" Tamara breaks the silence. She makes it sound so easy. I know I can't just do that, so I don't say anything.

- "He owes you at least a proper apology, ok?" I nod and decide to change the subject away from me and Zayn.

- "Speaking of boys, you and Niall?" I smirk at her, leaning back into my chair. All night the two blondes were dancing and snickering around, never leaving each others side. She blushes, and looks down on her nails, smiling.



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Sorry it's been like a week since the last update, but I've been kind of busy, and I like to I take my time writing each chapter - also since I speak Danish and not English :*



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