Writing Music ( A Zayn Malik love story)

Bittersweet

*4 years later*

        I could not believe how messy my room is. I clean it as fast as I can hoping that I can make it presentable enough by nighttime. For the first time since my 12thbirthday I would see my brother. I nearly jump down the stairs as I carry my hamper full of dirty clothes to launder.

        As I pass the kitchen my nose is filled with the scent of spices and cooking food. My mother quickly fills the entryway blocking from seeing what she is making. She is almost unrecognizable with her red hair flowing down her back and in jeans and a t-shirt.

        “Where do you think you are going Carla?”

        Her accent still is fully American even though neither of us has traveled since we moved here.

        “I was just doing some laundry mum.”

        My accent is a mix of American and British, the only evidence that we have lived in England for some time. I thought that I would have never fit in, in a new country but now I never want to leave a place I now call my home.

        “I thought I asked you to do your laundry last night before you left with Zayn.”

        “I was helping him practice for his audition today, you know that.”

        “Go do your laundry I need you to run some errands while the machine is running.”

        I carefully check all of my pockets to make sure there are no pens, I have lost too many good clothes to the ink. I hear the house phone ringing and my mum answering it.

        I start the washer and turn to leave. My mum is standing in the doorway with a straight face.

        “Was that Zayn? Did he make it?”

        “No, I’m sorry but it was Zachary. Your father had an important emergency meeting. They’re not coming dear. I am sorry Carla.”

        She wraps her arms around me trying to give me a hug. I push away from her and run past her up the stairs and into my bedroom. I slam my door in anger even though it’s pointless. I push anything that gets in my way as make a path to my bed not caring what gets destroyed. When I finally reach my bed I jump onto it and curl up into a ball.

        I should have guessed my father would have found a way to ruin the plans for Zachary to visit. Any plans that we have ever made in the past have either been postponed or canceled because my father has had some kind of emergency meeting. Having a father who owns a famous record label is not as fun as it seems especially when he focuses more on his work than his own family. His work ethic is one of the reasons that my parents are divorced. My mother enjoys to work but the difference is that she has found a balance between work and me especially since we moved.

        I don’t know how long I lie curled up in my little ball, my windowless room shows no sunlight. I hear my door open and someone step inside and shut the door behind them. I wrap myself tighter around the pillow in my arms ready to shout at my mom to leave me alone. I hear my bedside lamp turn on, the light nearly blinding me.

        I roll over to face the intruder in my bedroom. Staring down at me is my second favorite person in the world, Zayn.

        “Is there room for me on the bed La La?”

        Even his pet name for me does nothing to break my moping. I push myself to the other side of the bed and he crawls in next to me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug against his chest. I never let myself feel vulnerable but the news of my brother broke down all of my defenses.

I feel my tears finally come and I cry wrapped in Zayn’s arms. Time is motionless to the two of us or at least it seems that way to me. I feel his heartbeat and it calms me down like a lullaby. Finally I stop crying but I linger in his arms for little while enjoying his embrace.

        Zayn and I have been friends since the first day we met. In the beginning I sorta had a crush on him but I did not want to risk ruining our friendship so I tried to date other boys but every heartbreak only makes my feelings for him stronger. Most of my exes did not like the idea of me having Zayn as a friend especially because he is Muslim.

        I would always get in trouble for fighting whenever anyone picked on Zayn because of his religion. I believe that everyone is an individual and they should not be judged for who they are. I may be a hypocrite for judging others when they judge but really I am just trying to defend those who are being judged. Moving from the States to England did not make me a foreigner but a fighter to not let anyone put me or others down.

        I slowly push away from him and he releases me from his arms. I look into his chocolate eyes, as though I am in a trance. I realize how close we are and my mind is telling me that he is my friend I shouldn't’t be this close but I ignore that little voice. My defenses are down and my emotions are overriding logic, looking into his eyes I swear that I see my want mirrored in him.

        I bring my lips to his before I can think. He does not even try to stop me from kissing him almost as if he already knew what I was going to do. I grab twist my hands into his shirt and try pull him closer to me. He responds by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him again. I have never kissed my other boyfriends as passionate or at least it did not feel like it does now.

        I do not know who breaks the kiss first I just know that we are both breathing heavily. His gaze meets mine and I realize the full extent of what just happened, Zayn and I kissed. He brushes away a strand of my brown hair that has fallen in my face.

        “I did not realize I would have two good things happen to me in one day.”

        I see his one-of-a-kind smile slowly spread on his face. I quickly piece together the other good thing that happened to him.

        “CONGRATULATIONS! I knew you would ace your X-Factor audition.”

        “If you did not force me to practice last night I would not have been prepared today. You are my muse La La.”

        “I told you to stop calling me La La. Do not make me have to make you  known as the former musician named Zayn.”

        “That’s my girl.”

        This time Zayn is the one to start the kiss but we break apart when we hear a growling noise coming from my stomach. We both laugh at the ridiculous noise.

        “Your mum made some good grub. It’s a shame for it to go to waste.”

        “Why don’t you go down and tell her that I will be right there. I am going to use the loo first.”

        He leaves my room and I walk into my bathroom. I sacrificed windows in my bedroom to have my own bathroom. It was a small price to pay to not have share a shower with my mum.

        I splash cold water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t know what I was expecting, I have kissed other boys before and nothing special happened to me.I guess I was expecting to look different but my wavy brown hair is as messy as it always is. My blue-green eyes do have something of a sparkle in them but otherwise I look exactly the same as I when I woke up today.

        I touch my lips trying to remember the kiss. I can still smell in his hair gel and remember the feeling of his lips. The full realization of what happened finally hits me; I kissed Zayn and he kissed me back.

        The only thing wrong is the bittersweet taste I have now have that I am able to fully think about it. I just hope that this does not cause any tension between me and Lori. The last thing I want her to think is that I am trying to steal her boyfriend.

        I quickly look at myself in the mirror one last time. I take a deep breath and turn to go to dinner with the bittersweet feeling still in my mouth.