One Direction School Preference Series

19. First I Love You's 3/5th

First I Love You's

Zayn

In all honesty, you couldn't believe that you and Zayn had been together an entire semester. In all freaking honesty, you had never expected to fall in love with him. On the surface, you had zero to no similarities. Full opposites on a pure judgmental basis. But after you finally gave him a chance you found yourselves to more similar than at first glance.

Upon a first assumption Zayn was the stereotypical bad boy. He smoked, or did, fought with people and the system, had that silly leather jacket style of dress. There had been rumors he would do things, for a price. It's like he walked straight out of Grease. Now you, you were, you hated to admit, the Cupcake personality, all fluff and whipped cream. You loved sweet things, baking, you were kind to most everyone, and were almost always dressed cutsie or sweet. You looked at things positively no matter what the situation. Together you must have looked like the oddest couple, but you liked it that way.

But under that first glance both you and Zayn were calm individuals, you both enjoyed 'art', he with graffiti art and you with the art of the written word. You had similar political and spiritual views. You shared a similar taste in films, sense of humor, and literature. And from all of that, you really couldn't stop yourself from loving him. But Zayn, he's not the kind of guy that falls in love, but you hoped that he had fallen in love with you.

"Do you realize it's kind of ironic?" Zayn said without looking up from the easel he had set up in the kitchen.

"What's ironic?' You asked distractedly as you sift flour into a bowl while allowing the egg and sugar to be mixed in the stand mixer.

"That I call you cupcake, and here you are, making me cupcakes." He smirked at your back as he sketched your apron onto your form.

You thought for a moment before looking over your shoulder at him. "Do you find it ironic that you're still making art of me, even after the project has ended?"

"I'm going to keep doing you, until you let me do you."

"Zayn!" You gasped before flicking flower at him.

"We have to give your mother the bambino!" His eyes were wide in mock desperation. "If she doesn't get that bambino, I don't know what she'll do to me."

"You kill me, seriously." You turned back to check the egg whites and sugar mixture. You checked for stiff peaks before putting the mixer on low and slowly incorporated the flour. "But seriously, why do you keep creating me? Aren't you bored with me yet?" you tease.

"I'm making memories, because I'll never get bored of you." He mumbled, his face hidden by the easel.

Your eyes widened, did you hear that right? "Zayn, why would you need to make memories?"

He looked up at you, eyes masking his anguish. He wished he'd never gotten himself into this mess, wished he had never accepted that damn bet from Derek. Because here he was, months later, completely in love with you. He drew you so often because he knew, that when you would find out, you'd leave him. And all he would have left would be these images of you. So, every day he would sketch a different expression you had made, having memorized it in the quick seconds that it would pass over your face. And every chance he had he would make you posse for him, or create you in different mediums as you worked on something in front of him. So far, he had finished a charcoal sketch of you playing with his sisters, an oil pastel of you shelving at work, a watercolor of you asleep on top his desk while studying, a watercolor pencil piece of you sitting in flowers, nose in a book, and surrounded by 20 more, and his original creation, the negative space spray painting of you, his personal favorite.

Today he was sketching you baking with your back to him, later he would paint it with oil paints. You were his muse. Before he only wanted to spray paint, but you encouraged him to experiment with other mediums, because 'Hey, maybe you want to go to college for art. I bet you'd get a scholarship." And he did, he did for you, because you deserved someone who did everything they could to improve themselves. You deserved someone who worked to achieve things. Not someone who took petty money and jobs from scum. If he ever had a chance at keeping you then he needed to do everything in his power, he could. He needed to change now so that when you leave him, he'd have a chance.

He pushed back his stool silently and walked over to your humming form as you scraped down the sides of the stand mixer. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and hid his face in your hair. His emotions were a jumbled mess of how he would tell you about the Deal. But first he needed to cancel it.

"Zaynie?" You asked switching the mixer off and turning around to face him.

Zayn's hands left your waist to grip the counter on either side of you, effectively capturing you. His eyes sparked with what could almost be desperation, but you settled on it being heat. He swooped down and captured your lips between his own. His teeth nibbled at your lips, seeking entry that you were fine with giving. His tongue swept inside and tangled with your own. Biting kiss after kiss was given to you and he pressed even closer, sealing you between his body and the counter. His hands slipped up your body to tangle in your hair. Your hands knotted in his shirt at his waist, sweetly accepting his demanding kiss.

Zayn's hands returned to your waist and pulls you away from the counter before sliding down to your thighs, picking you up, and setting you on the counter. His kiss turned even more furious as he took from you all he could. No longer able to reach his waist you gripped at his shoulders, unsure of how to react. You had never been kissed in such a way before. Zayn, having been your first kiss, was trying to take things slow so as not to scare you off. Yet here he was, completely dominating you in the way he had so wished to do the first time he met you.

Your eyes opened at the sound of something falling to the floor. Zayn paid no attention to it but out of the corner of your eye you could see a bowl and frosting splattered on the floor. "My buttercream!" You cried pushing him away. Your hands flitted up to cover your burning mouth. "Nooooooooooo." Zayn tipped his head back and barks with laughter. You turn side eyes to him and pout your lips. "That was an Italian meringue. I'll have to start all over. What is life?" You cried up to the ceiling.

"I'll help you make it." He said kissing you one last time. "Now stop pouting, I don't like when your pretty lips look sad."

"Zaaaaaayyyyynnnnnn" You whined, pouting even more at him.

He leaned forward and rubs his nose to yours. "Will it make you feel better if I tell you I love you?"

Your cheeks turned bright pink and your lips tilted up into a smile. "Yesssssssss, because now I can finally say, I love you too."

Relief settled into is his skin. If you loved him, then he still had a chance. And he had a reason.