Sparks Fly

A Lacey Bradford Accent

A Lacey Bradford Accent

Sparks Fly Chapter: 5

MaineLove

“What?” Zayn asked, a drop of fake innocence dangerously coating his voice. He poked his head out of his book, his large rimmed glasses framing his perfect face.

“You hurt him why?” I demanded sternly, all previous affection and love for Zayn had been quickly and almost troublesomely squeezed out of my heart. It worried me how Zayn had completely changed for me in mere seconds. All thoughts about him before were purely related to perfection and complete beauty. The thought of him physically hurting someone seemed pathetic and unlike him. I had established him as a complex, understanding, and caring person. And there was still the slightest bit hope, that he could vouch for his actions.

“Answer me, why? why are you so quiet?” I screamed helplessly. I wasn’t able to decide which feeling overruled, disapproval or anger. Although they were both spiraling into one and shooting icy daggers at Zayn through my eyes, as he failed miserably to conjure up a audible response yet again. I lifted my hands up and pushed at his chest hard, letting some of my pent up emotions out. Yet he didn’t budge, instead he placed his large, rough hand over mine and locked my arms against him triumphantly. He reeled me in until our bodies were tightly pressed together, it took a second to decode the foreign and sensual look in his hazel orbs, as the gap between became smaller. I had almost forgotten how well our bodies moulded together, like a fine sculpture that has taken year to perfect. We were dominant together, if only our trust and truthfulness was just as dominant.

“Your so cute when your angry,” he grumbled, his voice husky and low.

“This isn’t funny Zayn.” His signature grin quickly met his lips, before he pressed my lips to his. His fingers danced around my hips and hooked themselves into my belt loops, preventing me from escaping. Our kiss, well one word could describe that: Hot. Every time we had lip locked before it was slow and sweet, we were in no rush, there was nothing to prove. All we wanted to do was savor every moment together. But this kiss was like lightning, it sent every vein in my body on an electrical surge. My stomach flip flopped at the fiery passion that left me wanting more with every passing second. Zayn’s lips were hungry and needy, trying to cross the line. His tongue brushed my lip asking for entrance, and I was about to oblige when rationality kicked in. No form of kissing was about to erase the prominent image of Harry’s black eyes from my brain. I pulled away immediately, and watched his gaze travel over me, in search of any body language of how I felt. I didn’t let anything show. His eyes looked frustrated and overwhelmed. I had a feeling he was fully aware of my venerability towards him, and he was trying to use it as an advantage.

“Did you just resist a kiss Charles?” he growled, trying to pull me in again. It was true, I was easily affected and distracted by Zayn’s charm and bad-boy swagger, everything about him had my nerves crackling and my stomach turning. He knew just when his lips were inches apart from mine, I wasn’t able to process one coherent thought. But as time passed it was deeming impossible for me get through to him. He was trying to turn the tables, and I was ever so foolishly falling for it.

“Don’t change the subject, Zayn.”

“What are you talking about sweetie?” His Bradford accent laced with desperation and need.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t.”

“Don’t lie Zayn, I’m talking about Harry.” It was as if his victims name had set his body a blaze with fiery guilt. I watched as he averted his eyes and shamefully gazed at the floor, I smirked successfully, finally having the upper hand in the whole situation. But his silence burnt all hopes of an explanation of his innocence. Although my moral conscious knew he was to blame, it didn’t stop my brain from occasionally thinking of scenarios to prove Zayn wasn’t the wrong doer.