Waiting For This Cough Syrup to Come Down (this version discontinued)

Chapter 2

"Curiosity is idle only to those who fail to realize that it may be a very rare and indispensable thing." - James Harvey Robinson.

"How was his family?" Lana asked, sitting down on the other side of the sofa I was on.

"Dude," I began, "his youngest sister is one of the biggest tomboys I have ever met, his mum makes really good chicken and his whole family supports Manchester United. I would not never live there."

"Sounds like the perfect family for you," Lana empathised. "What's it like?"

"Elaborate."

"Being engaged; you always said you'd live a life of independence. What's it like?" 

I pondered the question. "I don't know," I realised. "I mean, it's weird. I sort of look back at my situation all those years ago and I could've never guessed this is what it would lead to. At first, I couldn't really come to grips with what was happening, but Zayn's really cool about it, you know? He doesn't talk about it all the time or be really mushy with me; he just acts like he cares but on a higher level. I don't know how hard it's gonna be though right now."

"How d'you mean?"

"You know that I can't be alone in a room with a guy if he isn't family," I muttered, feeling blood rush to my cheeks as I described the religious rule. "And I can't sleep next him in the same bed until we're married or anything and, I dunno, it's sort of embarressing in a way..."

"I think he'd respect you for it," she said smoothly. "You know what he's like."

"I hope so."

"Niall told me what you did for him," Lana smiled. "That you got Zayn out of his smoking and self-harm. It was really sweet of you to do that for him. I didn't even know there was anything wrong but when he came back I knew something was different about him."

I smiled, weakly. The sound of having someone voice the brief happenings of my time with Zayn sent that weird sensation in my stomach, reminding me of the feelings I had for him. "Thanks Lana. I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark, but Zayn didn't want anyone to know."

"It's fine, I get it," she shooed my apology away. "Answer this one thing, though."

"Shoot."

"Do you love him?"

"Oh God, Lana," I whined, slapping a pillow on my face in embarressment. "Go talk about this stuff with Danielle or something!"

"I'm just asking a simple question," she defended, innocently.

"No!"

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Fine," I gave up.

"Well?" she persisted.

I sunk back into the sofa, tucking my knees in and resting a cushion on them which blocked my face. "Maybe," I mumbled, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. "Please start squealing later," I added, noticing that Lana's face had cracked a huge smile and she looked as though she may explode.

"Can we talk about you now?" I asked, sheepishly. 

"There isn't much," she resisted, shyly.

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, come on, you lived in Barcelona for six years and you're telling me there's nothing to talk about? The last thing you told me was that you were scared of the people you were competing against."