Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 18

I pack up my stuff, carelessly stuffing my belongings into my bag. Zayn continues to pace around the room, and it's driving me insane. Focusing on more important things, I tuck my hair behind my ear and zip my bag closed. I hear him huff in annoyance as his heavy feet continue to stomp around the room.

"Can you stop?" I plea, mainly annoyed by his constant movement.

"What?" He pauses, and it seems as if he was oblivious to me still being in the room.

"That pacing, stop. It's driving me crazy." I wave my hand at him, and point at his feet.

"Sorry love." He whispers, and sits in one of the black leather rolling chairs. He spins around quietly, as he stares at his phone screen. My curiosity is creeping up on me, but I push it away, and force myself to focus on getting to my next class. I walk out the door, but turn around and lean against the frame.

"I'm leaving, are you coming with?"

Silence.

I sigh, and turn on my heel, leaving him alone. It's weird, the way he's acting. Them again, getting to know him, this could be just something he does that I'm unaware of. After all, spending so much time with a person, the little things they do could annoy you, or make you fall in love with them.

This annoys me.

--

"He what?!" Ashley shrieks, as she plops down on my bed next to me.

"He completely disrespected Eric. It's fine though, because I explained to him that I'm not his girlfriend and he has no right to treat my Best friend like that."

Saying the words out loud, sound much more confident than I feel.

"Wait, you're not his girlfriend?" She's completely puzzled and I can't figure out how I can make this clearer for her.

"Nope."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because he hasn't asked me." I shrug, ducking my head. Now that I think about all the flirting we've done, and kissing, it doesn't make sense as to why I'm not his girlfriend.

"Look, right now I'm just getting to know him. He doesn't seem like the type to date, but I could be wrong. He's very sweet, and caring, but a total asswipe at times."

"The only thing you've been getting to know is his lips El." She scoffs, and folds her arms.

Her words pain me in ways I didn't know words could hurt. My heart stings, my stomach twists, and my head begins to pound. Although hurtful, her words ring a sort of truth with them. I like Zayn, I do. Thinking about our night out to dinner, strolling the streets of London, butterflies erupt in my stomach and a smile grows on my lips. But, I won't allow myself to be used. To be seen as just another girl, but I'm also not one to force a guy to like me too. If he likes me, he'll want me to be his, and only his.

"I guess you're right." I throw my head back against my pillow, inhaling deeply.

"Hey, anything new with your mom? I feel like we haven't talked about it." Her face shows worry, and the last thing I need is someone worrying about, or pitying me.

"What's there to talk about?" My shoulders slump, as my mind creates a fake sense of relaxation.

"I don't know, I mean, after the photo Michael gave you, don't you want to know more about her?"

"Any child would, but how am I supposed to figure any of this out? I have no where to start."

My mother left, while unintended, left without a trace to follow.

"You could ask Michael." She mumbles, and I swear my heart drops to the pit of my stomach. I sit up abruptly, all the blood rushing in my head, and glare at her.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" I spit, and she cringes next to me.

"He's your only option! I mean, if it's that important to you, you'd want to know right? Regardless of the circumstances?" Her body is slouched, as she cringes from me. Truthfully, my hand is feeling twitchy. She may feel my urge to slap her as well, for her outrageous suggestion.

"No. In fact, why don't I just forget I share the same air with him, and move on? My mom died, Ashley. I've been through hell and back with that man, and she died because of him. How dare you suggest I go to him for help!" I'm on my feet now, running my fingers through my hair as I pace around the room.

"Look, Ella, I'm sorry-"

"No, drop it." I hold my hand up to silence her, but feel slightly guilty for treating her like shit.

We share a moment of silence, knowing neither of us have an idea of what the right thing to say actually is. She grabs her phone from my mattress and heads towards the door.

"I'm going to get some coffee, I'll see you later. I'm so sorry." With that, she's gone. And the silence I've come to know, greets me with open arms.

"Fuck!" I throw my phone against the wall out of pure rage, and frustration. I'm trying so hard to forget about him, forget he exists and continue to live my life, and get my degree.

Michael or Zayn? My subconscious whispers, throwing it's two cents in.

Definitely Michael. Sure, I have many things to figure out with Zayn, but that's for a later time. As for him, Michael, I need to keep my distance from him. He's not a normal person, no, he's not even a dead beat dad. He was around my whole life, although he was set on making it a living hell with his alcohol addiction.

I sit on the bench in front of the window sill, and bring my knees to my chest as I scan the city nightlife. The London Eye, glowing blue in the distance and Big Ben casting a warm yellow glow in the sea of black around it. As I scan the city, I recall my childhood.

I recall, the slivers of light I received, in a childhood full of darkness.