Fire Starter

Chapter Ten

See, I'm pretty damn smart, in my opinion. I tend to also write what's on my mind. So, when Mason & Nicole have a conversation at the table during breakfast, it will be hard to understand for some of you. But just bare w/ it or skip this chapter altogether, and save yourself the headache. c:

Btw I think the beginning of the chapter is cute! x

-

When I had went to sleep, all was well. I was warm and comfortable. But somewhere between midnight and dawn, I'd woken up with panic. It could be because I was in Zayn's bed, with Zayn.

But maybe it was just because I thought I heard thunder. Thunder doesn't bother me when it sounds like a sheer rumble, but when it's booming, I'm on the verge of tears. I never understood why the crash, crackling, boom bothered me so much.

I had looked over at Zayn through the half dark room to check if my stirring had woken him up. It hadn't.

He was on his back like me, but one leg ontop of the covers, and both hands under his pillows behind his head. Soft snores rolled off his tongue through his ajar mouth.

I quietly and breathlessly rolled out of the tall bed, tip toeing towards the door, taking the silk cotton, ugly green blanket with me.

I stepped on a pencil, the crack making me stop instantly, chewing my bottom lip. Even Zayn's wary snoring had stopped.

Please don't wake up.

But then more snores followed.

As I turned the door knob, it wouldn't budge. Of course I'd forgotten that the door was locked.

I didn't know where I was going;
To the attic maybe. But as soon as I was out of the room successfully with the door closed behind me, I found myself in the kitchen.

I wanted a meal, because I didn't have dinner, but instead helped myself to a glass of warm milk snagging a few pita chips from a bowl in the fridge.

Two glasses later, and I felt woozy. I didn't want to go back to Zayn's room and accidentally trip over something in my sleepy state, making him wake and give me shit for leaving the room. I'd rather that in the morning.

I could help myself to the spare room, but Mason had conquered it.

The locked room across from Zayn's wasn't an option.

I wouldn't of made it up to the attic without falling down the latter.

Sleeping in the hard cold marble tub didn't seem pleasant either, plus I'd seen in a movie or two when someone was asleep in the tub, and another had gotten up in the morning to take a shower, they stuck their hand in the shower to start running the water through a tired state without having checked if anyone was ever in it, which isn't always likely. It never ended pretty.

I, then, carried my heavy body to the couch regardless Zayn's warnings earlier. They were irrelevant and didn't process through my thick weary skull.

Within minutes I was out like a light again, but wrapped in the protection of the comfortable sinking couch. It was cold because of the wind carrying in through the busted window, but it didn't bother me at the time. The thin blanket and thick clothes provided me some sort of protection from the breeze.

It was every blue moon that I would actually have a dream. I could have been dreaming about making love for the first time, or swimming in a pool of peanut butter, only to turn over and die, or even pressing a knife through Zayn's chest, killing him. But I'd never had known, even the next morning, and I'd wake up feeling typical and habitual.