Disguise♔ z.m

Thirty Eight

"So?"

"So?" I repeat, staring at the melting scoops of Vanilla ice cream I craved for a few minutes ago before sitting across Zayn, and catching up with the silence that had returned out of nowhere.

His phone begins to ring and he glances at the screen, only to get up and quietly excuse himself from the table for a few minutes.

My finger tips become numb when I plant them around the cold glass, adding further effect to the nervous feelings I had building in my bones. At least I am spending some quality time with a friend, than spending it all alone, wondering what Liam might be thinking of right now. Wondering whether he worries about my whereabouts or about the things I feel.

Zayn's return makes my thoughts fade off.

"Are you going to drink your coffee?" He lightly points at the mug of coffee close to my elbow.

"Oh," I look down at it."I still think it's the wrong time to drink coffee."

"Do you have that written in a rule book or something?" He softly says and the crinkles by the corner of his eyes appear, enfolding his warm, hazel irises, that had somehow made me forget I was becoming somewhat anxious.

"I don't!" I comfortably row back.

He shrugs his shoulders and lowers the angle of his sitting. His elbow rests on the arm of the chair and his fingers band around his chin as he watches me slowly wrap my fingers around the short, silver spoon. I raise the melting substance to my lips and feel the cold Vanilla against my taste buds. I blissfully close my eyes and hum to the taste, earning a low chuckle from Zayn.

"You should really stop making fun of me," I tell him, wiping the excess and unneeded ice cream around the edges of my lips with a tissue paper that had a flowery design imprinted on the center.

"I wasn't making fun of you," he answers."I just enjoy watching you, that's all."

I reflexively look up at him and feel my heart beat harder against my rib cages. I hate the fact that I'm so easy to read; my cheeks had become crimson and my lips had folded into a little pout that I hardly did for anyone.

Listening to what he said earlier about my coffee, I take the mug into my hold and try to sip in some of the content, but the diameter of the grey cup had nearly swallowed half of my face. I muffle a laugh and nearly snort out the little coffee I had kept behind my lips.

"This is quite big," I complain.

"Yes it is," he nods."I don't really like big mugs." He adds.

I laugh and arch my brows, not understanding why talking about mugs sounds so boring, yet interesting when the words come falling from his lips.

We sit in the pastry shop for quite a while before we find something to talk about. It honestly surprises me how long we can hold on to the silence and show no sign of boredom. I ask him about the places he has been to, and when he begins to talk about them, I look and feel fascinated. He gesticulates with his fingers as his eyes seem distant, as though he is trying to transmit his visualization into my mind. The moments he looks me in the eyes and says,"you can't believe how beautiful it was," I nod repeatedly, unconsciously finishing the coffee and biscuits Zayn and I ordered to eat while we spoke. His enthusiasm made my smile linger for a longer interval than usual.

Without peeling my sight away from him, I try reaching out for the last biscuit, but Zayn's fingers tenderly brush against my own, making my heart feel a little unsettled. I feel a pulse shoot through my digits as I pull away and embarrassingly look to the side.

He does the same, and if there was a camera around, we'd look like a pair of high schoolers.

When leaving, I insist on paying, but being the gentleman he is, he pays for me, saying it was his treat, backing up with the fact that he lost and I won.

"A win is a win, love." I don't know whether he made notice of calling me love, but the word warms my heart. There is a big difference between Zayn and Liam, just the way there's a difference between Love and Babe.

We begin to talk about different Drama genre of movies and argue about movie characters, where we lead ourselves to singing out our favourite songs, where I ultimately enjoy Zayn's high notes.

Walking down the street, we didn't care about the way we acted like kids, or the way we laughed as though we had taken Nitrous oxide, because the only thing that mattered, was us.

"This should be something worth remembering," I confess to Zayn, who had permanently kept his hands in his pockets.

"Midnight memories," he says and I profoundly smile.

There's something about the phrases he makes or the simple look he gives every time he turns his head from side to side.

Quality time with a friend.

There is definitely something wrong with those string of words I have floating in my head. I perfectly know what should be changed, but it can't be. I've made it obvious that I want Liam, and only Liam, in my life, but Zayn always has to return and fluctuate my whole method of thinking.

When we get to the building I live in, I kindly tell him we are able to say our goodbyes here, but he insists on dropping me off at my front door. I stupidly agree and have a minor talk before we actually get there.

"Is this it?" I ask when my back faces the door.

"Yeah," he shifts from one foot to the other.

"Goodbye?" I wasn't ready to say goodbye, yet. I didn't want him to leave. I still had so much to tell him. I still had to tell him about Venice.

Venice!

My mouth is running dry, parts of my body are becoming numb and dysfunctional as though a section of my brain had failed to work. Knots are forming at the pit of my stomach as though I am taking an exam.

"See you Later, Nora." He is about to step forwards, making my arms get ready to pull him in, but he professionally and sneakily walks to the side, away from me.

I huff with desperation and disappointment and unlock the door, only to enter in with a greater pressure of anger in myself for not asking him about the flight.

I immediately go for my phone and impulsively hit the call button, hoping he'd pick up the call. On the second ring, I begin to doubt myself. I actually hope he doesn't pick up the call. That way, I get to travel alone and not worry about being with someone who I've never been too close with, but at the same time, I need company.

Third ring, I begin to stutter.

Oh my God, I never knew this could become so tense at the last few seconds. My head is spinning with things I think I could say and worst part of it, is I could hear his ringtone coming from the corridor out of my door, which means he knew I was calling but decided to ignore.

Nearly giving away hope, I am about to drop the call, but he declines before me and I feel a sudden silence. The only thing I hear due to the pressing of my ear to the door, are footsteps. I couldn't decide whether they were faint or loud, but the only way I knew he had not completely ignored me, was by the knock on the door and the sweet sound of his voice, telling me to open up.