Half a Heart

Chapter Nine

That evening, after Zayn had driven me home, I showered and went straight to bed with a really good Nora Roberts novel.

It was around ten thirty when I dog-eared the page I was on, shut the book, and turned on my radio to the lowest volume on coffee shop music to help me fall asleep. Outside, it had just started to rain, pouring lightly on the leaves of the plants outside and gently dropping off the roof onto the edges of the patio... Soothing. Calm. Relaxing.

With the soft blare of the radio and the pitter-pattering of raindrops next to my window, it wasn't very long before I drifted into a peaceful sleep, hearing my radio shut off after its fifteen minute timer.

I woke up Sunday morning to the sound of my phone ringing, vibrating against the teakwood dresser beside my bed.

Fumbling with my lamp, I switched on the light and glanced at my clock.

10:41 a.m.

Groaning, I flipped over in bed and rubbed my eyes to adjust to the light, sliding my finger across the screen of my phone to answer the call on its last ring-- I didn't bother checking the caller ID. Turns out, I didn't have to. I would recognize his voice anywhere. Zayn's. And it sounded urgent.

"Brooke I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up but I really need to talk to you," he said, sounding upset.

Immediately, I was awake.

"No, no, it's fine it's fine," I shook my head, "what is it? What's the matter?"

He took a deep breath, and I could almost imagine him running his fingers through his mussed hair and pacing across his bedroom.

"Can I come over?" he asked. "I need to see you. I- I want to tell you in person."

Hearing his voice catch like that made my heart sink. I didn't know what was going on, but when Zayn was in a bad place, so was I.

"Of course." I said, twisting my necklace around my finger and tucking my feet underneath me. "Whatever it is, it's okay, I promise," my voice wobbled.

"Okay, I'll be there soon," he said, sadness decorating the edge of his words. He was scaring me.

"I love you." he sounded different.

"I love you more," I tried to sound unafraid, but I couldn't help the way my voice broke.

When he hung up, I took a deep breath and wiped the wetness from my eyes. I padded softly into the bathroom, looking myself in the eyes in the mirror above the sink before washing my face.

Was he breaking up with me?

I shoved the thought out of my mind. No, no, he couldn't be.

I wouldn't be able to take it if he did.

•••

I didn't bother to change out of my pajamas, I just brushed my hair and my teeth and made up my bed-- anything to do to take my mind off the hour-long minutes that were ticking away; every second was a year that I was waiting for him to get here.

I finally sat down on my sofa and I picked off my already chipped nail polish, brushing off the blue flakes that fell on me. I tapped my foot until the sound made me want to scream.

I jumped up the millisecond the doorbell rang, throwing it open and staring up into the sparkling brown eyes I knew so well.

Zayn pulled me in for a hug, and I sighed as I felt his fingers rubbing circles into the small of my back.

He smelled so good.

I buried my head into his chest and we backed up into my apartment. He pushed me into the kitchen, sliding me up onto the countertop and grazing his cheek along my jawline. It wasn't long before I felt his lips on mine, warm and succulent and---

I pulled away, studying his features before I looked into his eyes to see, instead of the glint of passion I knew so well, a dullness.

I wonder who felt worse, him, or me.

The anticipation was killing me.

He ran his hand along my forearm, leaving goosebumps behind.

Finally, he spoke.

"There's no way to say this to make it easier," he began, and I looked away from his steady gaze, down to the floor.

I thought, So this is it. It's over.

He took my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. I was embarrassed to feel a tear roll down my cheek.

"Look, if you're gonna break up with me, do it fast," I whispered. "I don't think I would be able to take it any other way."

He sort of smiled.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," he rubbed his nose against mine, dropping his hands away from my face.

"But I might as well be. My family is moving."

The whole world, zoning away from me, snapped immediately into focus.

"What?"

I was struck dumb.

I slid off the countertop and buried my face in my hands.

"What???" I said again stupidly.

He took my hand and we sat at the kitchen table across from eachother.

"My mom got this huge job. Like, this huge opportunity. We're moving to Brampton in three weeks."

"Brampton? As in Brampton, Ontario??" I could barely even speak.

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, ruffling his hair with his fingers and putting his head in his hands.

"I don't think I can do it," he said, "I can't move away from you. I love you-- you're the one. You're it. There's nobody else after you, Brooke. I sound stupid but-"

"No. You don't," I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable lump blocking it.

"But you can't not leave-- I get it. We can make it work."

Zayn's voice was feeble, "I can't, though. I'll miss you too much."

His hands intertwined with mine across the mahogany. I stared into the eyes of the "bad boy" I knew so well, reduced to tears because of me. Because of us.

We needed each other.

The reality hadn't hit me yet, but it would.

Before I knew what I was saying, I heard my voice say, "Why don't you just stay with me?"