HIGH

Chapter 19 Submissive

brvdfordmalik.tumblr.com*******

I want to get addicted to you*****

We spent the rest of the day on different levels. Zayn in his office, me in the living room. I liked his office. It was sort of like a man cave but there was definitely work being done in there given by all the papers and files and such.

Literally I spent the rest of the day on the couch. From 12:30 in the afternoon till 4:18 when Zayn came trudging down the stairs. He wordlessly entered the living room and sat down by my feet. My toes brushed his thigh when he fidgeted to get comfortable. Music videos were playing on the TV in front of us. Both of us watched in silence until I broke it with a cough.

"Bless you." Zayn muttered.

"I didn't sneeze."

"When I was little my mom used to say it whether we sneezed or coughed. It's just a habit."

So now he was in a good mood. Now he was in the mood to talk to me.

"Oh." Was all I could say. I didn't know how to reply to that. Normally I would've asked a question or tried to keep the conversation going. I figured that neither of us really wanted that though so neither of us said anything more.

A faint vibrating sound could be heard over the small noise of the TV. Zayn pulled out his phone and answered.

"Malik." He said. I watched him furrow his eyes in confusion then lick his lips.

God I hated when he licked his lips.

It only reminded me of the past two times he had kissed me.

I hated remembering that.

"No." He said firmly.

Zayn noticed me staring at him and met my gaze.

I gave him a half smile. He seemed to always be dealing with work and shit. It must get tiring.

Stop feeling bad.

Zayn did not return the motion. He instead glared at me then looked away. Embarrassment flushed over me.

When I was younger I hated it when I'd text boys. I was always really awkward and said stupid stuff. And nothing pissed me off or got me more embarrassed than being the last person to say something. For example if I were to say something to them and then they wouldn't reply I felt stupid. I wondered why they didn't respond. I'd over think everything and jump to every possible conclusion. And that's what it felt like now. I had texted Zayn (smiled at him) and he hadn't even read the text (glared at me).

I could hear faint yelling on the opposite end of the phone. Zayn wasn't even paying attention to it. His eyes were fixated on me with a steady glare, still.

In one swift movement Zayn hung up the phone then looked back at the TV. He kept moving around trying to get comfortable. At one point he was sitting completely on my foot.

"You should make dinner." Zayn said. He didn't even look at me.

I considered saying something back then thought against it. Him telling me to make dinner was a demand, not a suggestion.

"Like what?" I tried my best not to sound sarcastic.

All I got as a response was a shrug of the shoulders. With a huff I threw back the blanket I was using, making sure to hit Zayn in the process. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I retreated into the kitchen.

I found a box of spaghetti hidden behind some stuff I had carelessly thrown in the cabinets. I put a pot of water on the stove and waited for it to boil.