January. // z.m. au

Chapter 7

Island In The Sun | Weezer

Daisies: delicate, simple, and casually beautiful. Adorned with pretty, white petals and a soft yellow center. Their fragrance was close to non existent but still pure. They were different, not typically given out unless you knew that they were the person who'd be receiving them's favorite. Daisies, also known as my favorite flower. And so when Zayn handed them to me as he was stood before me, dressed in his typical leather jacket and boots, I broke out into a genuine smile even though I was quite stunned that he would give me daisies.

"How'd you know daisies were my favorite?" I grinned, still admiring the plant held between my hands.

"I didn't," he chuckled. "They were the first ones I laid eyes on. I didn't want to be late so daisies it was."

Lucky guess or not, I was still content.

"Thank you, you didn't have to."

But way to make an impression, I thought.

"It's no big deal," Zayn shrugged. "Shall we get going?"

I nodded, heading back into my flat to put away my flowers and grab my purse.

"Ready," I smiled as I followed behind Zayn where we'd be off for our last minute "date".

***

I had absolutely no idea where Zayn was taking me as I sat passenger seat in his sleek, black car. I questioned him a few times but all I got out of him was a simple, "It's a surprise."

For some odd reason I was never nervous around Zayn. I did get the occasional flutter of the heart when I was near him but that was partly due to the fact that he was strikingly beautiful and nice, sometimes flirty. Zayn was a relaxing guy. He made me feel comfortable around him. I didn't feel the need to worry with him like I normally would with other guys. He was an easy talker; smooth with his words and actually someone I didn't mind listening to.

And, boy, could I listen to him forever. His voice was so pure and his thoughts were so effortlessly put into words that made you think. He was an intriguing mystery--something straight out of a movie.

I watched him from the corner of my eye most of the time. I noticed how his skinny fingers lightly tapped the rhythms from the beat of the music on the steering wheel. How he would bob his head to the songs on the radio. I admired how his tongue would randomly dart out to wet the surface of his lips or how absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful and badass he looked in his "bad boy" attire. I would imagine him leaning against a black motorcycle, cigarette in hand and an explosion of fire in the scenery behind him.

I imagined him in the middle of a box office action movie. Now that would be a film I would pay to see.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" he randomly asked. His eyes were still focused on the road in front of him, but a little grin was rising on his lips.

"A little bit of everything," I replied. "Except country. I absolutely despise country."

"Despise," he repeated, wearing a playful smirk. "Hmmm... that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Harsh," I said, "but true. It makes me cringe."

He laughed, like, really laughed out loud. I loved the sound even if it was fairly new to me.

"How 'bout you?" I spoke.

"I'm more of an R&B, hip-hop kind of guy, but I like a bit of everything."

I pictured Zayn as more of a classic rock guy, but I think it was mainly because of how he dressed. Now that I thought about it, R&B fit him a little more.

"Hmmm, I see it." I nodded.

He chuckled and focused his eyes back on the road. I noticed how the car was starting to slow down a bit so I could only assume that we were at our destination. I looked ahead at the building before me. We were bowling.

"Bowling," I said to myself, smiling.

"You don't like bowling, do you?" Zayn questioned. His eyes sort of fell and it was honestly the the cutest thing ever.

"No, no," I chuckled because his face was just so darn precious. "I think this is very cute."

I swear his caramel colored eyes lit up when I said that. He turned his head to look at me, a smile spreading on his thin lips, before saying, "Well, let's go bowl."

And bowl we did.

***

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