When Worlds Collide - A Zayn Malik Fanfic

48; Yellow towels, picnic tables, and makeovers

Violet

 

Zayn and I arrive home and the minute we get through the door I make an excuse of using the shower, escaping him as fast as I can. I grab my things and head towards the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I put my clothes on the sink and go to lock the door, except when I do I realise there's no lock. A house with six people and there's not a lock on the door? I sigh, I'm just going to have to hope that everyone follows the rule of 'If the bathroom door is closed, don't come in'.

Zayn's bathroom is pretty small, with a shower that sits in the corner, a large glass screen covering it. There's all kinds of products on the shower shelves as well as covering the sink. I open up the cupboards to find a towel, moving around the cleaning products and hair sprays and gels. There's no towels anywhere. I open up drawers, look in corners, nothing.

Suddenly a knock comes at the door and I panic for a split second. I'm not overly comfortable with Zayn's family yet, and without Zayn around me I don't really know how to act around them. But, I stand up straight and plaster a smile to my face as I go to open the door and greet whoever is on the other side.

I turn the knob and pull back the door. My smile falls when I see Zayn standing there.

He holds out a yellow towel and a face cloth to me. "It takes about five minutes for the water to turn hot," he says. "Right is on, left is off. Don't push it too far otherwise you'll burn alive."

I take the pile from his hands, ignoring as our fingers brush. "Thanks," I say awkwardly.

He just gives this eyebrow raise, head nod thing that I assume means something and turns on his heel to walk back down the hall, one hand in his pockets. I quickly duck back into the bathroom and close the door again. But before I do I hear Zayn yell, "BATHROOM'S OFF LIMITS!"

I smile a little before placing the towel on the sink. The towel's fluffy and looks brand new, and I've hardly ever seen yellow towels before. I wonder why Zayn picked this one. But, I love yellow. So I'm not complaining. I turn on the shower, following Zayn's rules of waiting five minutes before it goes hot, and pull off my clothes. I rip my hair out of it's pony tail before grabbing the face cloth and my shampoo and conditioner and stepping gingerly into the shower. The minute the water hits my skin I shriek. It's too hot, way too hot. I pull the lever left a bit.

I get a better look at all the products around me and realise each shelf belongs to a certain family member. I pick up a black shower gel bottle from one of the shelves, realising I brought none of my own. I'm sure no one will mind if I use a bit of theirs. I flick open the lid and my nose catches a familiar musky, woody and rustic scent. I immediately put the bottle back, realising it's Zayn's, and grab a pink one instead. But even through the strawberry and coconut smell that lingers off my skin now, I can still smell Zayn's scent. I quickly wash my hair and hop out of the shower as fast as I can. I grab the towel, wrap it around myself before standing in front of the mirror and squeezing my hair dry.

Then the door bursts open.

I spin around, covered only by a towel, my hair dripping wet around me, and my eyes absolutely wide. A girl a bit older than me stands in the doorway, her face the splitting image of Zayn's mum. Her bold eyes are covered in thick eyeliner and her glossy hair sits in a scruffy plait to her side. Her hands cover her mouth as she sees me.