"Please," Zayn begs. "Just... let me kiss you."
Diamond gives him that look - the one she always gives him. The one that makes him feel like a small child being denied ice cream. "Sorry, but you know it's against my policy."
She doesn't sound sorry...
"Pandora Pink's, can I take your name?" the kind receptionist asks. She doesn't have to be this nice; Zayn doubts anybody calling this line will care much about customer service. But it's nice to hear.
"Zayed Malak," he says, using the same shìtty fake name as always.
There's a pause, undoubtedly one of recognition.
"Diamond will be on her way," the lady says, and Zayn almost drops his phone.
"W-what?" he gasps, suddenly out of breath.
"Diamond will be there in about an hour," the lady repeats.
"Wait, don't-" Zayn cuts himself off, afraid to sound stupid. He chews on his lip. "Tell her... tell her that she doesn't have to... she doesn't have to dress up and shìt. To just come as she is."
A very pregnant silence echoes across the line, but when the woman speaks Zayn is sure she's smiling.
"Okay," she accepts. "I'll tell her that. She should be there in about half an hour."
Zayn nearly jumps for joy. "Okay," he repeats. "Thank you."
The phone beeps as she hangs up, leaving Zayn standing in his bedroom staring at a blank screen. Diamond is coming. He called, and she's actually coming.
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Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings.
Zayn squeals.
Then he blushes, clears his throat, and fixes his hair, sweatpants hanging low in his hips as he makes his way to the door. Taking a deep breath, he puts on his most winning smile and yanks the door open.
It isn't Diamond.
"Pizza for..." The teenage boy's eyes meet his and his eyes widen. "M-Malik?"
Zayn had forgotten that he'd called for pizza before he called for Diamond. Maybe because somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he would want her today, and home cooked dinner would freak her out.
"That's me," he replies. The boy hands him two pizza boxes with shaking hands, along with his potato wedges. Zayn doesn't remember ordering two pizzas, but he doesn't complain. "Here." He digs into his pocket and pulls out the necessary cash, accompanied by a hefty tip.
"Th-thanks," the boy stammers. "Erm, listen... not to be weird or anything, but um, my sister loves you. Could I... would it be annoying if I asked for a autograph?"
It's clear that this guy's sister isn't the only one who loves Zayn - if this sister even exists at all. "Not at all," Zayn smiles. It's been almost two years since he last encountered a fan. "You want a picture?"
"Yes!" the boy says loudly, so loud Zayn almost doesn't hear the elevator ding down the hall. He waits patiently while the delivery boy scrambles to get his phone, shakily holding it up to take a selfie of the two of them. Zayn grins into the camera, a smile that quickly freezes when Diamond appears behind the phone, an amused expression on her face.
