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loudly

"Hey," Zayn said, poking his head around the corner before sitting across from me at the table. "Did you eat without me?" 

"Yes," I lied, propping my feet up on the table, as an extra barrier between the two of us. I lifted my book higher to hide my face.

"Not that I don't think your feet are absolutely adorable, but is there any reason you just blatantly lied to me about breakfast?" Zayn asked, reaching up to move my feet back onto the floor.

"I didn't," I said defensively, giving him by best offended frown.

He chuckled and shook his head at me. "How come you're allowed to hate surprises, but I've just got to deal with whatever crazy shit you come up with?"

"Because we only have three more hours together before you're off to the next country," I pointed out. "I just want to make it count. Was that your mum on the phone?"

He nodded. "Complained to me about how we've got matching tattoos but she still hasn't met you. Which-- uh, actually now's as good a time as any to ask, she wants you to come spend my weekend off with the family. Like, all of us together."

I tapped lightly on the skin around my new tattoo, biting back the goofy grin that was forming under the surface. It was cute, to me, that Zayn sounded nervous about asking me, as if I'd harshly reject him and dump him right on the spot. "Of course, I'd love to. In fact, my mum's been complaining that she's not met you yet either."

Zayn smilled wide and got up from his chair, running a hand through his hair with only slight difficulty, fingers catching on a few tangles. He leaned down over me and kissed me softly on the lips. "What's my surprise?"

"I ordered in, because I'm absolutely useless at cooking," I informed him, eyes dancing across his features, an attempt to take it all in. This was one of those moments were you just can't believe that you're really alive. In fact, to convince myself it wasn't a dream, I took Zayn's hand into mine and pressed it flush against my chest, feeling the pulse from both his hand and mine.

He smiled again, soft and fond, and kissed me again. It's a bit odd how kissing is entirely instinctual for me. The thinking is thrown out the window, especially with Zayn. You don't actively shut your eyes, not when somebody kisses you slow like that. Your eyes are just closed and you're suddenly aware that you've shut them. And I don't hold my breath, but Zayn sometimes does, if he's not planned on kissing me.

"Okay, I'm officially hungry," Zayn muttered, gently guiding me to my feet. "Please tell me you ordered omelettes."

"Welcome back," Carter said, perching himself on the edge of my desk. "How was the trip?"

I shrugged, staring at the empty basket where my work usually lived. Nobody had even bothered assigning me anything while I was away? I'd been looking forward to immersing myself in something ordinary, like correcting the grammar of twenty-somethings that dropped out of college and now write about Kate Mara's eyebrows.

"It was good," I stated simply, trying not to giggle about spending an entire 24-hours with Zayn. "Agent thinks I should quit here, model full-time instead. Not sure he's entirely wrong," I joked, motioning towards my empty basket.

Carter smiled faintly. "An agent. My Penny-Poo. Wouldn't have guessed model. Maybe an actress, talk show host."

I rolled my eyes. "Think I should put in my two weeks' notice?"

"Or I could fire you, since you're never here," he suggested. "Get a paycheck for a couple more months that way."

I nodded faintly. "What, like... now? Should I be saying my goodbyes?"