You're My Kryptonite-- One Direction/ Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Chapter 3: Zayn. (Part 1)

Chapter 3: Zayn.

"You don't know who I am?" he asked, before biting his lip, and sticking his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

I cocked my head slightly to the left in confusion. "Should I?" Should I? I don't think I've ever seen him before.

He hesitated, then he finally spoke. "Um.." he started, rocking slightly on his feet, "Well, um, I'm Zayn.. Zayn Malik." So Zayn, it is. First name Zayn, last name Malik. Huh. Zayn stopped fidgetting and looked down at me expectantly, waiting for a reaction of some sort. Was I supposed to be reacting?

"Um.. okay, well, I'm Anna.. Anna Taylor..." He raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes, looking at me with suspiscion and doubt. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He stood there deep in thought for a few seconds before snapping out of his somewhat-trance. Taking his hand out of his pocket, he ran it through his hair before responding, "I just.. I uh, no, n..nevermind."

"Okay.." He was definately hiding something, but I wasn't going to push it. Instead, I decided to focus on the issue I'd been pondering for the past.. however long it's been. "So, what do we do now, Zayn?" Moreso, what do I now? Zayn probably has a home, a place to go. I on the other hand--

His words interrupted my thoughts, "Well, lets start out by getting out of here," he said, gesturing towards the dark alley we were currently standing in, lightly giggling. The sound of his laugh rang in my ears; there's something about this British guy.

Taking my hand in his, Zayn led me towards the path that Carney and his men didn't take. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable; him holding my hand.. I mean, I had just met him. But there was also a comforting feeling that came with his touch. A feeling of protection and safety. But, this isn't safe. I just met the guy. For all I know, Zayn might not even be "Zayn". He could be dangerous; he could be a rapist, a murderer, a serial killer, a mental person, a gunman.. Those thoughts led me to subconsciously let go of his hand, and immediately distance myself from him. He looked over and me and ran the hand that I released through his hair.. again. He does that a lot when he looks nervous. I'll have to keep that in mind. We continued walking, and the cold wind brushed against my skin again, causing me to shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Zayn looked over at me and his eyes slightly widened in realization.

"Oh, god. I'm an idiot," he started, in his thick accent that made my heart flutter a bit. "You must be freezing in that outfit." And with that, he began to unzip and remove the hoody he was wearing.

"Oh, no! Please, I'm fine. You don't have to do that, I'm fine," I squeaked as another wave of cold wind hit me.

"You're cold. Here," he firmly stated, as he put his jacket on my shoulders. I opened my mouth slightly, about to protest, but another gust of cold air decided to hit me again, so I gave up and just nodded in reply.

"Thanks," I murmured, slipping my arms into the large sleeves, feeling some warmth begin to reveal itself to me. I looked over at Zayn, and I swear, a part of me melted on the inside as I noticed how breath-taking he looked. His arms; they were perfectly sculpted. They weren't scary big, yet they weren't awkward and scrawny, they were just toned and.. wait, what am I thinking? I don't even know him. I shouldn't be thinking like this. But my eyes couldn't help but glance back in his direction admiring how fit he looked in his dark jeans and beater.. Just a beater. He was probably freezing, and I couldn't help but allow guilt to fill me. "Zayn.." He looked over at me, and the brighter street lights revealed a slight smile on his lips. "You're probably freezing now.. I'm sorry, here, you can have this back," I reasoned, beginning to take off his jacket.

"No, no," he quickly asserted, coming over to me and keeping the jacket firmly on me. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Now onto other things, I've been wondering, what were you even doing out there? By yourself? It's dangerous."

"I could ask you the same," I retorted. I really didn't want to talk about what had happened, so I opted with firing the question back at him.

"No, no, I asked first, so you have to answer. And anyways, I pretty much saved your life back there, so telling me a bit about yourself is the least you can do," he stated with pride, an obvious smirk planted on his face.

I hesitated. I mean, why would I tell a complete stranger about my life problems? My "family" problems? But he did have a point, I don't know what would have happened to me if he didn't pull me over earlier.. I owe him an explanation at the least. So, I gave in.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But don't blame me if it bores you." I said that, I saw joy flash upon his face; I saw a glint of victory... immature. "Let's just start out with saying, my dad isn't good at a lot of things."

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The reason I'm splitting it into two parts is that I have to leave (home) in a few minutes, but I really wanted to post for you guys because I haven't in a few days. (Sorry!) But, yeah, Part 2 should be up when I get back, so either later tonight or tomorrow morning!

Thanks for reading!

---Jenn xx