Sparks Fly

Your Impossible to Resist

Your Impossible to Resist

Sparks Fly: Chapter 7

MaineLove

An appalling taste formulated in my mouth after I sneered such a terrible, heedless stream of words at him. My word choice was too far from intelligent and mature to call a comeback; it was more brash and foolish than I desperately hoped. It gave him supremacy and oversight of the situation; he knew well I was one to immediately regret my actions. And he was fully aware how venerable I was at the moment, as he turned to face me. His eyes a mixture of disbelief, indignation and something I was far too frightened to consider. Hatred. I trained my eyes to my open toed shoes, silent and praying.

“Sure about that?” Zayn hissed, taking several effortless strides until he was right up against me, boxing me between his lean body and the metal railing. Sweat coated my palms as his breath tickled my neck. “Take it back,” he murmured, grasping my wrists tightly. The energy in my body drained within seconds of the contact, his mingling scent far too counteractive to battle. Nonetheless, his definitive expectancy caused a rush of anxiety to push through me as I stuttered a thread of incompetent words.

“Zayn,” I managed to utter, as his lips brushed my neck. Shudders arouse me at the familiar sensation of his lips against my skin.

“Take it back,” he repeated softly. I held back a delighted sigh as his fingers skimmed the curves of my body, finally resting on hips.

“I have nothing to take back.” Innocence coaxed me as if I were a child being accused of wrongdoing, and it took expanses of courage to muster up the small sentence. My newly found strength melted approximate to butter as he nibbled my earlobe. Biting down on my lip, I attempted to channel the desire that was building within me as an ill-favored moan escaped my lips. I felt him smile in triumph, knowing he’d pushed all the right buttons.

“You know, no matter how hard I try I can’t resist you,” he whispered. My brain ran dry of all thoughts as an ambience of infatuation filled the air. The words I so had longed to hear from his mouth felt terribly treasonous. They were not the words of a loyal, trustworthy man but merely the words of one who had no consideration for another’s feeling. That was the kind of man Zayn truly was. His fingers reached for my chin gently tipping it up to meet his lips. Every muscle in my body ached for his touch; however kissing the lips of a deceiver generated a revolting, queasy feeling in my stomach. I brushed his fingers away.

“Resistance will lead us no where Victoria.”

“Zayn your here with someone else,” I countered.

“It doesn’t matter, she won’t know,” Zayn retorted, his hand returning to my chin. This time, I had run low on energy and refusal. He yanked me on to him and covered my mouth with his in a hungry kiss. I responded immediately, seeing no point in refrain. His mouth was warm, the caress of his lips softer than I could have ever imagined. He smelled tentatively of after shave and mint as his tiny stubble tickled my skin. He grinned into the kiss, flaunting his victory like a child.

I was a powerless entity in his presence, a doll manipulated any way Zayn pleased and tortured anyway he see fit. I detested how advantaged he was in our problematic, frazzling relationship but I was far too in love to even attempt to battle the foul brute. I pulled away, my mind racing as I numbly stared back him. He wore a baffled expression, but brushed it off with ease. My fingers wrapped tightly around the collar of his varsity jacket.

“Where does this leave us?” I muttered, wondering out loud. My eyes instinctively locked onto Zayn’s, he looked at ease as if the answer were at the tip of his tongue.

“I think we should take a break…” he trailed off, assuming I understood his acceptation. I had gotten his motive perfectly he was denying my love. “And I want to give Bethany a chance.” He eyed me skeptically waiting for a hasty reaction, my orbs glued to the chipping paint on the surface beneath us.

“How could you do this to me?” I sneered. He absurdly silent, most like containing his anger over my relentless.

“Why don’t you understand, damn it.” He spat, his temper sparking at my hardheaded tendencies. Zayn rammed his fist into the metal railing, sending it a shake with a violent rattle. A small gasp escaped my mouth, as his eyes became dark with rage.

“Understand what? How I gave you everything yet you were never able to do the same. You right, I shouldn’t have ever fallen for such an asshole. And for the record she’ll never love you the same.” My voice raised furiously, the possibility of further hostility evaporating instantly as continued to press his body against me.

“Move Zayn,” I ordered giving his chest small push, he remained fixated in his position.

“Get away!” I small tinge of regret washed over me however, I had decided before hand that he was receiving whatever reaction he deserved. He stepped back, his face displaying pure fury and slight bewilderment as I pushed past him, bumping against his firm shoulder in the process. His eyes trailed after me, watching my frame with immense concentration.

“Don’t fucking do this Victoria,” he exclaimed, his voice coarse with hatred. Zayn was difficult to decipher, one of ever changing phases and an unreadable demeanor. A week ago I had been hungry to discover all his layers, but promptly I wanted to flee, hide and have nothing to do with such a boy. Seconds ago we’d been heatedly lips-locking, then he’d cruelly rejected my affection over a girl whom did not love him as much as I did and now he was pleading for my presences. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thoroughly baffled. Brushing all other complicated emotions to the side, I focused on the dominant. Anger. He’d kissed me so much reassuring desire; I almost believed he loved me with the same fervent passion I had given him, yet Zayn let all that wither away within seconds. Leaving me empty in desperation and need.

“Why do you give a damn? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend anymore!” I stormed off the terrace.

I paced back and forth around my living pondering on all the demoralizing ways my life would change now that Zayn had officially left me. I was grief struck, my body shaken from the plethora of broken emotions that engulfed me. After I had made a hasty retreat from the terrace, I found Liam and forced him to drive me home and had cried my soul out the entire way regardless of his consoling words. Upon entering my house at 1 am, I had quiet a repulsive appearance, with frizzy hair and running make-up all over my face. I stumbled into the sitting area with purse and shoes in hand, collapsing onto the sofa as a new wave of tears collected in my eyes. Still half an hour later, I hadn’t gathered enough vigor to change out of my horrid clothing. I lethargically stepped back and forth, my mind running blank of all thoughts. There was a large question formulated in my brain, however I was far too terrified to become knowledgeable of the answer. What did she give him that I hadn’t?