Cult

7: Preparation Ω

(Here's the cast list thus far. Please comment any suggestions y'all have :] 

Catherine Zeta Jones- Kat's madre

Clive Owen- Kat's padre

Lily Collins (when she was a redhead)- Kat

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I take the beautiful, embroidered card that sits atop the new set of horsehair paint brushes.

"Open it," Zayn nods. I smile at the card, biting down on my lip.

There is a handwritten note from Zayn. "Turn around," it says. What?

I do as I'm told and the moment I turn, Zayn takes me in his arms. I am smiling, genuinely smiling at him. He really is so beautiful. The way his dark, full lashes curl and frame his warm eyes is as soothing as watching a setting sun. And he is thoughtful, too. This gift was simple, but that's precisely why I love it.

Zayn reaches into his back pocket and takes out a small velvet box with a bow on top. I open it quickly, nervously. Inside is a necklace, half a silver heart.

"I have one that matches it," he tells me, rubbing the back of his neck. He reaches under his tie and pulls out the necklace. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and kiss him. I actually press my mouth to his, feeling the softness of his lips and the pressure of his tongue. I have never kissed Zayn like this, passionately, genuinely.

He kisses back and winds his arms around my waist, holding me to his chest. He leans forward, pressing my back to the sleek car as his hand slides lower on my waist. There is a warm sensation building in my gut, as well as in Zayn's abdomen. I can feel the tension, the desire magnifying between us. It scares me. I let go. The Lord would disapprove of our lusting for one another.

"Kat, I l-lo," Zayn begins, but stops. "I think I lov--"

He shakes his head, embarrassed and nervous. He looks so sweet when he's nervous.

"What is it, Zayn?" I ask, encouraging him to speak up. He shakes his head. He's speechless. Zayn Malik, the man who can talk about himself for hours is speechless?

***

The next morning comes all too quickly. Today is the day of The Ball. In all my eighteen years, I have dreaded this day, but my birthday party changed something. I press my hand to my new necklace. I can't seem to shake off the smile from last night, from Zayn. He gave me a genuine, meaningful gift that had nothing to do with him or his lavish lifestyle. He even respected me and didn't make any moves. I did. I actually kissed him. I didn't even know he knew I loved art. He may have been a complete asshole at lunch the other day and most days at that, but last night, last night he was very sweet.

I laugh sligthly at myself. All it took for me to forgive slash like Zayn was a few paint brushes. At this rate, if Zayn gets my work into legitimate art shows, I'll probably be in his bed by the end of the summer.

The comforter and the embroidered blankets all around my bed have somehow meshed around my body, covering me like a mummy. I sit up slowly and rub my eyes as I yawn. It's only 7 am, but I must wake up early to prepare for The Ball.

I am already brushing my teeth and hair in the bathroom when my mother comes up to my room, calling for me to wake up. She grins when she sees that I've already woken. 

"Today is the day, today is the day," she keeps chanting under her breath. She clasps her hands together and giggles lightly. She's so excited and it makes me smile. Even if this ball is about two centuries out of date, I can't help but smile at the way my mother is grinning. If only she smiled like this when I showed her my artwork.