Garrix & Me (Martin Garrix Fanfiction)

Chapter 10

Zoe's POV

"Martin, it's me. Open the damn door."

I don't know why I'm even standing here. I'm probably the last person he wants to talk to right now, let alone have some kind of 'heart to heart' with. If anything he hates me, heck he seems to hate everyone, but I guess I want to talk, since he was sort of being nice this morning.

Was he being nice though? Or was he just being a jerk?

I hear a growl on the other side and the shuffling of feet before Martin opens the door.

"What?" He snaps.

"Are you okay?" I ask, telling myself I won't get angry.

"Now isn't that just a stupid fucking question."

I ignore the fact that he's cussing and take a deep breath. Maybe the only way to deal with someone as rude as he is, is to be calm and not let it phase you. Then maybe he'll realize he isn't getting anywhere being arrogant and will eventually calm down on his own accord. That's always been my mothers strategy when dealing with my brother during his rebellious stage. She let him do whatever he wanted until he got over it. Hopefully it works with Martin.

"Can I come in?" I nod toward the room and give him a small smile.

"No."

He moves to close the door but I put my hand out just as it shuts, my finger getting caught for a second. I gasp but it doesn't hurt.

"Fuck. What is wrong with you?" He asks, a look of frustration crossing his face.

"Nothing. I just.." I pause for a second, once again wondering why I came up here in the first place.

"You just what?"

"I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Well you asked that already now fuck off."

"Stop being so rude!" I roll my eyes.

"Stop being so goddamn nosy!" He rolls his eyes, mirroring my actions and crosses his arms.

"Will you at least let me come in for one second?"

"Why?" He asks, stretching out one arm to lean against the doorframe. The muscles in his arm become more prominent as he flexes to hold himself up. I gulp, staring.

"I...uhm," I force myself to look at him, "to talk?"

"Fine." Martin steps away from the doorway reluctantly and extends his left arm in an exaggerated gesture to welcome me in.

The room isn't exactly a mess yet but I can tell it's getting there. He hasn't unpacked his suitcase and the bed isn't made. The decorative pillows are scattered, or rather thrown, all over the room and I almost trip on his shoes tossed at the foot of the bed. I fight the urge to pick up the pillows and make the bed as Martin and I stand in awkward silence, looking anywhere but at each other. Eventually, I give in and bend down to push his shoes aside, grabbing two rectangular pillows.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks as I gather all the pillows in my hands and place them in a pile, walking over to the bed.

"Tidying up." I answer simply.

"I thought you came to talk."

"I did. I'll tidy up and you can do the talking. I don't actually know anything about you, to be honest."

I kind of do know things about him but so far, they haven't exactly all been nice things. I also figured it'd be less awkward if he talked while I kept myself busy in case I wound up staring at him again. That was becoming a really bad habit, especially around him.