Flames

nine

A chilly breeze blew rapidly against us, hitting every inch of my body with force until I couldn't take it anymore, and I squeezed closer to Zayn's back, my right cheek connecting with his black leather jacket - almost to the point of hurting by how tight I held it in place. I hated the air hitting my face, so I compromised with my self and stayed put, even if it felt utterly embarrassing as I carefully pictured his smug face smirking at my sudden interaction. Even then, I figured it would keep me securely in my spot - another safety measure that I was completely okay with.

Zayn would let out a chuckle every other stop, probably in response to my quick moment of slightly letting him go, only to rapidly cling back to him once he brought the bike to move again.

It was quite a debate figuring out if I was utterly scared or just being cautious, but either way, I couldn't help and agree with the fact that it was exhilarating and a slightly fun experience.

I don't know how long we rode for, but as soon as the engine died, I opened my eyes after closing them when Zayn decided it would be funny to accelerate, even though it already felt like we were going way faster than the speed limit.

Once my eyes adjusted back to the daylight, I looked around the area and inspected the view, trying to comprehend where we were.

I furrowed my eyebrows upon seeing a not-so-fascinating area. In fact, the small neighborhood looked rather intimidating and quite unappealing the more I looked at it. All and all, it was not somewhere I wanted to be, ever.

"Uh, I'm not going to be raped, robbed or murdered, right?" I asked Zayn once we both got out of the bike. I knew I was being a bit over dramatic, but I couldn't help and ask anyway.

"Like I would let that happen," Zayn commented with a roll of his eyes.

"Then what the heck are we doing here? This does not seem like a place I'd want to go on a date, or for anything," I was trying to ignore the 'like I would let that happen' sentence because it was causing a strange, warm feeling in my stomach, and if I thought about it too much, I knew I’d start blushing like crazy.

"I need to get something real quick," Zayn replied, walking toward the sketchy looking house in front of us. It was old with many, many visual defects, not to mention it scared the crap out of me.

"You'll be fine," Zayn answered my thoughts, and grabbed my forearm with his hand, making me follow him inside. The front door squeaked like crazy as he opened it without knocking. "You're allowed to do that?"

Zayn smiled, answering my question without having to say anything else. I raised a brow and continued to follow him deeper into the house, trying to ignore the foul odor of the place, and the uninviting vibe from the worn out furniture and pealing walls.

We finally reached a wooden door that was decorated with spray paint in what seemed like an attempt at graffiti. Zayn opened the door with his foot, making me giggle at his displeased expression. Once it was fully open, two pairs of eyes darted between the small screen TV that played The Notebook, to stare back at us. It was Zayn’s friends from school that had been gone for a while, and they were both sprawled on two red bean bags, a massive amount of junk food that included pizza boxes, chip bags, soda cans and cheeseburgers laying right beneath their feet - some of them looking quite a few days old, which explained the smell.

“Shit, Zayn, what the fuck is a girl doing here,” the curly haired boy said, his green eyes widening at the sight of the surrounding and then back at me. He had a baby face; much to my surprise, particularly because of the tattoos on his arms that could be seen because the shirt he had on was cut from the sleeves.

“Fuck,” the other boy said. He had a buzzed head with chocolate colored eyes, except the sides were so red they almost matched the bean bags, to which I assumed came from the small blunt that burned on the floor. He didn’t have many tattoos, except for two apparent ones on each of his arms.