Underneath My Skin

Ch. 12

Today has gone by fast. I followed the regular schedule. Get up take a shower, get dressed, walk with Zayn to work, work, go to lunch with Zayn, then go back to work. But now i'm following Zayn into his apartment and my nerves are getting the best of me.

We walk quietly to the elevator and I gulp as the doors close. And there it is, a weird electrical feeling swirling all around us. Some un handled sexual tension drawing us together. Zayn shakily reaches out and presses the button with the number six on it.

"Do you feel it too?" He Whispers.

I gulp and nod. I hold my breath as we continue to go up. When the doors open, I feel free and let out a sigh of relief. He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to his door. Its the third door on the right, i'll have to remember that. He unlocks the door and pulls me inside.

I gasp at how clean and creative it is. The walls are white with colorful graffiti on them. His carpet is white and he was a sleek black couch. He has a graffiti coffee table and side tables. Even his entertainment center has graffiti on it, and on top of the entertainment center is a huge flat screen.

"Wow," Is all I can manage to say.

He chuckles. "You like it?"

"Yes, its so creative." I say in awe. "They just let you do this?"

Zayn shakes his head. "What's on the walls is wallpaper that I made, it can easily be taken down. And all the furniture is mine."

I nod and he walks into the kitchen. I follow him. His kitchen is modern and sleek, but the paintings on the wall capture my eye. One painting is graffiti bowls stacked on top if each other. I smile, he probably painted this. The rest of the paintings are things like fruits and vegetables.

I look back over at Zayn and he's washing his hands. When he's finished he pulls a pack of chicken out of the refrigerator.

"Do you need help with anything?" I ask.

He looks back at me and smiles. "Could you get the cutting board out of the cabinet under the sink please?"

I walk over to the sink and open the cabinet underneath it. It takes a minute but I find the cutting board I hand it to him and he thanks me. He washes the chicken and then starts to cut in into square pieces.

"Anything else?" I ask.

"A skillet. Its in the same cabinet. And olive oil, in the pantry."

I nod and quickly grab the skillet from the cabinet. I set it on the eye of the stove and walk to the pantry. Its stocked up with a lot of food. This is my kind of man. I find the olive oil and walk back to the stove. I pour about a table spoon into the skillet and put the oil back.

Once he's done with the chicken he washes his hands then walks over to the fridge and pulls out broccoli trees. He washes the broccoli off and cuts it respectively. He throws the chicken into the pan and cuts it on.

"You can sit down if you want," He says.

I smile and sit on the bar stool. I watch him as he finishes cooking our meal. He looks like he enjoys cooking. I have figured out that we're having Chicken and Broccoli Alfredo. He made the Alfredo sauce himself which is quiet impressive. When the food is ready he puts a generous amount into two large bowls. He carries them over to the black dinning room table. He pulls my chair out for me and I sit. He sets my plate in front of me.

He walks back into the kitchen and grabs two wine glasses from the cabinet. He grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge and pours it into our glasses. He walks back over to the table and sits our glasses down as well as the wine bottle.