blue jeans || z.m. au

2%

sorry i havent been updating crazy, i just am really into this story okay japofjp 

1567 words ✖

---

"Zayn," Someone says in a soft, soothing, voice. It takes Zayn a few moments before he finally opens his eyes, they feel as if somebody glued them shut. He takes in his surroundings, and lets out a confused sound from his mouth.

"Hmmm? Where am I?" He croaks, he voice thick with sleep. His tattooed arms stretch above him and he yawns silently. He looks up to see that girl, and he has to think for a bit to figure out her name.

"Genevieve?" Zayn questions. He can barely keep his eyes open, he feels weak and fragile. Her hair smells like pomegranates, and she smiles at how young and cute Zayn looks right now. She sits at the edge of the bed, and it dips. Zayn moves a bit to give her some room, and he just stares at her with those eyes, those beautiful, coffee colored eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"You're at my flat ba-" She clamp her lips shut to stop herself from what she was about to say. How could she have almost said that? It's not like they're together or anything, she can't just call people 'babe' whenever she wants, Genevieve thinks.

"What was that? I'm sorry I couldn't hear you the first time," Zayn says, his voice laced with amusement. Genevieve knows that he's only teasing her, but she rather not be teased right now. She tries to brush it off as if she wasn't effected by what Zayn was trying to do. But, in reality, she was.

"I said, you're at my flat." She says, smirking. Zayn only smiles back, his tongue in between his white teeth, knowing perfectly what she said the first time, only trying to embarrass her. He decides to not talk about the subject any further, but the subject about the room they were in right now.

"Is this your room?" He asks, sitting up in the bed, much comfortable than the one that Harry is letting him sleep on. Much more comfortable.

"Yes, do you like it?" Genevieve doesn't really know why she asked if he liked her room, she shouldn't care if he liked it or not. She fiddles with her newly painted black fingers, her hands seeming more interesting.

"I do, actually." Zayn states. Her head snaps up to him, but he doesn't realize that she's looking at him, because he's looking around the nice, but different, room. Her walls are painted a dark, hunter green, something Zayn has never seen before. But it didn't look bad. He turns around to see a big window behind him, light streaming in, so the room didn't appear so dark and gloomy. She had a nightstand placed on the wooden floor, next to her bed, an iHome on it. The bed he was on had gray, wrinkly sheets, with white pillow cases, and a big white comforter. In fact, he didn't like it, he loved it.

"Do you remember anything that happened yesterday?" Genevieve asks in a quiet voice. Zayn stops examining her books, and turns to look at her. She looks like a child that have just been in trouble, a small pout on her lips. He keeps his eyes placed on her red lips, her tongue swiping over them, but not in a seductive way; simply just to wet her chapped lips.

"Zayn? Do you?" She questions, standing up from the warm bed. Genevieve wants desperately to sit back down on the mattress, and stroke his face, and hug him tightly, press her fingers against his head, touch his jet black hair. But, she doesn't, and keeps her black Doc Martens adorned feet glued to the hard wood floor. Zayn of course notices she's wearing a different pair of looser, blue jeans. They are cuffed at the ends and have some holes, white frays around them.

"Wait, what did you say?" His eyes move from her lips to her bright green eyes, a confused look on his face. He knows he shouldn't have been looking at her mouth, but he just couldn't help himself. Genevieve huffs and clenches her fists in anger.