Believing in love...Again (A Zayn Malik story)

Chapter 19: You know me too well

RASHEL:

I threw myself on the couch, with Zayn right next to me. I put my head in his lap and he, like always, ran his fingers through my hair, trying to separate the red from black. I am telling you, he is obsessed. I laughed out at the thought.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, his fingers still working in my hair.

‘You are obsessed with my hair.’ I replied and glanced up at him.

‘You’re gonna miss it when I am not there.’ He said. Way to kill the mood, Zayn. My heart sank at the thought.

‘Shut up.’ I muttered but he heard me.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, I lifted my head from Zayn’s lap and sat up.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Did I ever tell you I have been to jail?’ I asked. His eyes flew wide open and I laughed at his expression. It looked as if he has seen a ghost.

‘What?! No! You never told me!’ he said in a shrill voice. I dramatically covered my ears.

‘Well, I have been. Twice, actually. Mr. Anderson bailed me out and he didn’t talk to me for a week.’ I explained as I remembered begging him to talk to me. I remember that I literally went on my knees and begged him. Man, that was pathetic and the sound of Zach laughing for weeks after that, making fun of me didn’t make me feel any better.

‘Why did you go to jail?’ Zayn asked, his expression showing that he didn’t want to hear what I had to say.

‘I was caught doing street art, both the times.’ I told him. I don’t know why people are so against graffiti. I love doing it. My studio is another thing. But there’s just something about spray painting a wall when you know that you could end up in jail if you get caught. It’s true, you know, doing the forbidden is much more awesome. There is a thrill, an adrenaline rush knowing that you could get in trouble. I remember the first I was caught. It was right after Luke had left me. I was broken. I don’t know what got me, but I wanted to draw my heart out. I was so lost that I didn’t even hear police siren. Eventually, I ended up in jail and Mr. Anderson got me out. The officer warned me to not do that again. Little did he know that that wasn’t my first street art, nor was it last.

‘Seriously? You are into street art!?’ Zayn asked, surprise masking his face, making him look like a fourth grade kid asked to do trig.

‘Why is it so surprising? You have seen my studio.’ I said.

‘Yeah, I should’ve known. It’s just that your studio’s so filled up, I thought you wouldn’t have had time to even do street art.’ He said and I nodded.

‘Have you done one since I came here?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, one.’ I replied.

‘When? And how did I not notice it?’ he asked.

‘Umm…it was when I used to sneak out…’ I trailed off, knowing he would understand.  

‘Will you show me?’ he asked.

‘Why not?’ I said and pulled out my phone from my pocket. I clicked on the street art album in my gallery and handed him the phone. I had done many, a smiley face, a microphone, a guitar, many random things. Some of them didn’t make any sense. Some of them, I don’t even remember why I did them. I have been doing it since I was 17. I don’t what made me do it. At first, maybe it was my naïve mind trying to be badass or something, but eventually, it turned into something that soothed me, made me feel better when I felt as if this was the end of the world, and if you know me, you would know that I have a lot of those moments. Zayn scrolled through the photos, his eyes occasionally widening in awe. I had even done some major ones that took much more time and that meant more thrill. A guy singing, that was obviously inspired when Zach had his first gig at the local club. A guy playing basketball, obviously Luke. Every graffiti had some or the other story behind it.