+

passionately (!!!!)

SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD. SMUT, ACTUALLY. OKAY? OKAY.

And just for the record, it's not supposed to be the most explicit or exciting smut of all time. I mean... this is Penny and Zayn we're talking about. They're not going to have, like, rough angry sex with moans and spanking and whatever. They're supposed to be cute and giggly and Dumb In Love, so that's exactly how I wrote their smut. ENJOYYYY. Oh, and if smut isn't your thing, I promise the next chapter is 100% smut-free!

The next few weeks were an odd whirlwind of activity. It was almost concerning how quickly people were wanting to book 'Coffee Girl' for their magazines. I suppose people pause on your add when they recognize the face, and stay even longer when they can't quite place it. I was good for business. A conversation starter, and all that other bullshit. 

My life was suddenly composed of Skype calls with Zayn at night and flights all over Europe during the day. My day job was put on the back-burner, which Carter didn't actually care about at all. As I've said during my entire time at Unique, Carter is a good friend, and a terrible boss.

So, basically it was extremely exciting and rare occasion when Zayn's schedule overlapped mine. I was starting to realize what he meant about a lifestyle taking over all at once. One day I was helping Zayn with a rather ambitious project, and the next I was being requested for photo shoots all over the continent. It felt amazing to have a break in Amsterdam at the same time as One Direction was playing there.

"Most couples would be having a romantic dinner right now," Zayn pointed out, twisting and untwisting the cap of his water bottle while we watched 5 Seconds of Summer play from the side of the stage.

"We're not most couples," I replied, for lack of a better response. Zayn tucked his water bottle under his right arm and threw the left arm over my shoulders. "I think I want a tattoo," I decided, glancing at the collection of art resting against my shoulder.

"Me too," Zayn said simply. "I want whatever you're getting."

I turned slightly, raising my eyebrows at him, but he wasn't looking at me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said, planting a kiss to my hairline. "I'll get your face tattooed over the whole of my back, and you can get mine."

"Bit extreme for my first," I laughed. "I've uh... I've always wanted a tattoo that matches up to somebody else's? Like, I always imagined my husband and I would have two halves of some image on our arms and then when you press them together--"

"Yes," Zayn said. "As your hopeful future husband, I think that's a great idea. We could go straight after the show, if you're ready?"

"I can't believe Niall broke the railing off the stage," Zayn breathed, fingers still twitching from the adrenaline of the show.

I shoved his shoulder playfully. "I can't believe you serenaded me, you sappy prick."

"You loved it," he teased. "You were going to cry, I could tell. You love Strong, and you know it."

"Yes, the lyrics bring a tear to my eye every time," I joked. The car slowed to a stop and Zayn unbuckled his seat belt, so I did the same. I tried not to think about how odd it was to get matching tattoos before you properly say I love you, but at the back of mind, I think we both knew without having to tell the other person. Maybe today would be a good time to say it aloud.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it seems like it would," Zayn explained, holding the door open for me. I was greeted with the overwhelming scents of rubbing alcohol, bad wine, and smoke. For some reason, it was comforting that it didn't smell bad or anything... and too sterile an environment wouldn't have felt welcoming. At this hour, the place was mostly empty, but Zayn had obviously called ahead, because there were two chairs towards the front of the place waiting for us.