Half a Heart

Chapter Two

As Zayn and I sped along a dusty, forlorn road near the river that ran through the state, I stared out across the shimmering water, sunlight rays glinting off the blue waves in the fading afternoon light.

I thought about how grateful I was to have Zayn in my life. It's not that I was clingy or desperate, or dependent on him for that matter, it was just that at that very moment I felt at peace with how much I needed him and how he was always there for me. I didn't want to imagine anything any other way. He-- and our relationship-- were flawless, all of the little quirks and arguments included. Why would I want it any differently?

We drove in comfortable silence, the engine of the motorcycle being the only noise as we kept our silent musings and wonders to ourselves.

Zayn began humming, tapping his fingers against the handlebars and I reveled at his smooth, clear voice and unrestrained melody. After a little while, we drove up onto a secluded, grassy strip of land on the clean beach by the river we had been driving past all this time.

As he unbuckled the straps on his helmet and laid down our fuzzy blue blanket, I took out the sandwiches and snacks from the compartments under the seat.

We both sat down, enjoying the cool breeze and dimming light. It was a while before either one of us spoke.

"Thank you-- for this, I mean," I said, trying not to sound formal or stiff.

"I thought that instead of doing something fancy, we could just hang out together and enjoy each other's company, you know?" Zayn said carefully. I could tell that he wasn't sure whether I genuinely liked it or not.

"Well... It's perfect," I admitted, looking out across the water.

"Wanna eat?" Zayn asked, tentatively picking up a mini sandwich and a juice box.

"Yes," I laughed, "I'm starving."

-

We sat there for a little bit, marveling at the gorgeous scenery and the heartfelt food. The conversation was lighthearted, but the message was clear: we were both so thankful for the other's companionship. At least, I knew I was.

Finally, Zayn stood up and brushed the crumbs from his pants.

Turning his head to face the water, he asked, "Do you wanna go for a swim before it gets dark?"

I stood up, looked around. "But we didn't bring any bathing suits or anything..?"

Zayn turned to me and cocked is head mischievously, feigning innocence. "So?" he asked me.

Instantly, my face reddened. Zayn and I had never done anything that crossed the line before-- it's not like neither of us had never felt the urge to, we were just both respectful of one another and it never came up.

But I trusted Zayn with my life. So I figured, what's the worst that could happen?

If I hadn't been feeling particularly adventurous, I would've dismissed the idea immediately.

But why not?

Seeing that I looked as if I was going to agree, Zayn started unbuttoning his jacket, keeping his eyes on himself in case I was nervous.

"Oh, alright, why not?" I said aloud, giggling.

I don't know if it was the wine coolers or the intoxicating presence of Zayn, but I felt exhilarated.

While I started sliding my tank top straps down my shoulders, I looked over to admire Zayn.

Zayn was one of those people that seemed to exude confidence, but people that are close to him know that he's introverted, shy and reverent. I could tell that he had as much trust in me as I had in him; which was something that just made me love him a million times more.

Just as he lifted his t shirt over his torso and I caught that flash of pale skin, I barely had enough time to stare at the glimpse of dark tattoo before he stopped and quickly turned towards me.

"WAIT WAIT BEFORE WE SWIM WAIT," Zayn yanked his shirt down and I blushed, embarrassed at having been noticed admiring his body. I pushed my straps back up my arms and sat down back down on the blanket awkwardly.

He rummaged through the deep compartment of the motorcycle and pulled out a worn, old sketchbook.

My breath hitched.

Anybody who knew anything about Zayn knew about his passion for art, especially graffiti and sketches. The look of pure concentration on his face while he was working on one of his masterpieces was what I practically lived for.

The fact that he wanted to show me one of his sketches made me want to melt into a big, oozing, love struck puddle on the floor.

He turned around to face me, somewhat nervously, and sat directly in front of me with his legs curled.

I shifted in my spot, looking at Zayn closely, studying his chiseled features and waiting for him to speak.

He started flipping through the wilted pages, and I caught fleeting glances of brilliant sketches and detailed drawings.

Eventually, he paused at the last used page, hesitantly. I could tell he was nervous to show it to me as I studied the look on his face, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

I cleared my throat subtly, and Zayn looked up to face me.

"I-- I drew something for you. For today, I mean." he confessed, "but now that I look at it, it doesn't seem good enough, you know?"

I was so touched, a smile tugged at the corners of my smile and heat rose to my cheeks. How had I gotten so lucky?

I reached over and gently took the sketchbook from his hands, pulling in front of me.

As soon as I glanced over it, I nearly burst into tears.

"Oh my god, Zayn, this is beautiful," I could barely whisper, "how did you--" I gaped helplessly, staring down into the drawing.

It was a drawing of me, sitting on the sand in front of the beach we had gone to just a little over a week ago, or so it seemed.

It was a drawing of me.

From his viewpoint, from the way that he had sketched me out, I looked stunning. The landscape was stark, the sketches of the sand and waves and other beach goers incredibly detailed. I was sitting on the edge of the wet, sandy beach, wrapped in my cover up, my hair blowing in the breeze. He had perfectly captured the setting sun, the fading light, and how candid the moment had been.

It was just a drawing, and colorless, but it was absolutely breathtaking.

"Are you okay?" Zayn asked, the touch of a chuckle behind his words.

Before he had snapped me out of my intense admiration of his sketch, I hadn't realized that I was on the verge of tears, so enraptured in the picture.

"Zayn-- this is flawless. Oh my god, it's just... It's perfect." I was at a loss for words. "The fact that you drew this is absolutely incredible. Can I--" I began tentatively, "can I keep it?"

Zayn beamed at me, obviously pleased at my reaction.

"I have to fix it up a bit, add some more details. Then, you can have it."

"I think I'll frame it," I laughed, "it's that great."

I admired it for a few more short moments before handing it back to Zayn for safekeeping.

After he had carefully put it back in the compartment of his Harley, he looked back at me with a familiar glint in his eye.

"So," he asked mischeviously, "What about that swim?"