[COMPLETED]
❝Of all the races I've started, loving him is the one I never want to finish.❞
In this re-imagination of my most popular story, Arielle Hawthorne is an illegal street racer, just like Zayn Malik. Zayn's egotistical, flirty, and a major p...
"And the things I remember best, those are the things I wasn't supposed to do and I did them anyway. Life is too damn short to be following these rules." — Denny Duquette
A/N: keep up with the comments babes! a warning for those of you, this chapter is rated very!!! m for 🌚
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Z A Y N
Arielle sits beside me, cross legged and clutching a PS4 controller in between her hands. We've been playing a video game online where we face people all over the world. Clearly Arielle's played this before because she's shooting fuckers left, right, and centre without flinching.
I'll admit, it's hard to focus on the screen in front of me when she's wearing a skirt that's ridden up her thighs in the position she sits. I hear her joysticks go haywire and she yells at the screen, causing me to look back only to find that I've died.
I groan out in annoyance, tossing the controller onto the coffee table. I stand from the sofa and saunter over to the kitchen cabinets where I know I keep a small and discrete tin.
I remove it from the drawer, taking out the spliff I rolled only two days ago. Grabbing a lighter, I head back over to sit beside Arielle. She doesn't tear her eyes away from the television, focused on wreaking havoc on another player.
After lighting the marijuana cigarette, I toss my lighter down, inhaling deeply on the joint. Smoke swirls around my tongue and I hold it in as long as I can, exhaling it to create a cloud of white before me.
I watch Arielle's point of view on the TV as she sneaks around a corner and nails some guy in the head. What follows are a series of profanities from the guy whose character she ended. She doesn't waste time in moving on, ensuring she's running after the next guy.
I inhale it into my lungs again, blowing smoke rings into the air.
"Do you mind?" Arielle asks, not pulling her eyes from the game.
I look at her, confused. Thinking she hates the skunky smell of weed, I move towards the ashtray, but I'm proven wrong when she extends a free hand in my direction as an inaudible way to ask for the cigarette.
"Well," she urges, "C'mon now, before someone shoots me."
Smirking, I hand it to her and watch as she quickly places it in her mouth, balancing it on her lips as she places both hands back on the controller to kick more ass. We're sitting so close together, I can hear it when she inhales deeply with the spliff between her fingers before she passes it back to me.
