TEA$ERS

Chapter 19

Unedited

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Chapter 19

We are afraid to care to much, for fear that the other person doesn't care at all. -Eleanor Roosevelt

"Don't go in there, you'll wake her up." Melanie's voice says from behind the wooden door of my bedroom; blocking me from the rest of the small apartment.

I blink my eyes a couple time to adjust to the bright rays of sunlight streaming in through the blinds.

Along with the new day, the memories from last night come flooding back into my brain.

What a great way to start the day.

Another voice echoes off the walls, but I can't quite catch who's it is. In all honesty though, I was hoping that I could just have a day off from everything and stay inside. HD TV could just have it's way with me for all I care.

"I don't care, I want to see her." The other voice says. The accent and deep tone gives off the person's identity much to soon. I groan, wrapping a pillow around my ears to block them out.

Zayn's footsteps are loud and obnoxious as they patrol around my kitchen. With a final heaping sigh, I roll out of bed towards the noise.

Melanie is wearing a high waisted mini skirt and combat boots, which in my opinion is much to made up for 9 in the morning, while Zayn was sporting his usual-Nike shoes and a grey sweatshirt.

"Henderson!" He says frantically, coming closer to me. His eyes scan my body, and I quickly remember the t-shirt of his that I wore as make-shift pajamas.

I tug on the hem of his large shirt; not pleased with the way that it hugged my thighs. It was almost as if my body fit perfectly in it and that wasn't the message I was trying to send off to him when he was staring at me like a zoo animal.

"What is he doing here?" I ask Melanie, who was standing a few feet away from us.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugs. "I told him to leave, but I couldn't very well shove him out of here."

"I needed to see you. Whether you wanted me to or not." Zayn says, taking my wrists between his large fingers. I wince as he does so. The scars were still fresh and raw; not something needed to be touched. I quickly pull my wrists away from his reach, but his reflexes are fast enough to grab them again.

My cheeks warm as he flips my wrists over, revealing what I should've hid more subtly. The back of my hands had suffered most; my wrists just as scarred.

"Who did this to you?" He demands. His voice, while harsh made no impact on his soft touches against my skin.

His breathing has turned erratic, and I know that he's close to blowing up if I don't tell him. But I knew Zayn, or at least, a little bit, and telling him will only begin a new war.

"Tell me."

I shake my head slowly, to try and calm his abnormal behavior.

"No, you don't get to do that." He starts, waving a finger in my direction. "You don't get to be all pissed off at me for not telling you shit and then doing the same exact thing to me."

I hesitate with my words. He was right. Or, somewhat right. But it didn't mean that he could have his way.

"Well maybe if you actually told me about the stuff that I was so mad about, we wouldn't have this problem. Maybe then I would be able to trust you with it."