Storms {z.m.}

Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - Christine

(Hey guys, I won't take too much of your time. Just wanted to say thank you so much for reading my story and sharing it with your friends and for those of you vote! Please keep voting and sharing this story! I made a twitter account so I can keep in contact with you guys it's @Zayn_Storms just write me and tell me what you like/don't like or any comments about the story and I'll reply. I love hearing back from you guys, it means a lot to me! Xx Fitz)

"Wanna dance?" a cute boy with an Irish accent asked me as I sipped on a fruity drink I didn't know the contents of.

"Sure," I obliged, grabbing has hand as he pulled me into the dance floor. The further we delved into the heap of dancing bodies the stuffier the air grew and the more claustrophobic I began to feel. I downed the rest of the drink and instantly my anxiety dissolved.

The loud electronic music was pounding in my head and I could feel the bassline fill the room as I threw my head back and closed my eyes. I needed this more than ever; I had no idea how to deal with my problems ever since Zayn left.

I never realized how much more than a confidant he was to me. Every time my parents got into a fight he was the first person I'd call and we would talk about anything but whatever was going on outside my bedroom door. I never realized how much hearing his voice soothed me. I would focus on the tiny inflections of his speech and the way he enunciated certain syllables that most people didn't. The way he mumbled whenever he was smiling as he spoke, the way he would clear his throat when he couldn't find the right words to say, everything he did became like some sort of healing ritual for me and without him next door, or on the other side of the telephone, I was left with an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

That isn't to mention the fact that his abandonment hurt me on so many levels. I thought that we were going to end up happily ever after when in reality he had probably never thought of me as more than a friend. I couldn't blame him; I wasn't beautiful, clever, or even that interesting. The only thing I had to offer him was whatever little I had.

The part that hurt and confused me the most, though, was that even if he only thought of me as his best friend, he still left without so much as looking back once. The Zayn that I had known my whole life would never leave his friends, and not to mention family, behind like that. Somehow I knew that it had to do with whatever it was Yaser had told him before he died about pursuing his dreams.

No matter how stupid my fantasies where, I couldn't stop thinking about them and praying one day they would come true. Seeing Zayn's thin, red lips in person had completely sent me flying back to square one of my recovery process. I imagine myself the night before the audition, and when I say myself I mean a much ballsier version of myself, leaning in close to him and telling him exactly how I felt without having to say a single word.

I remember the air was thick due to the oncoming rain. After he explains to me his reasons of auditioning this year, I keep my cool. I don't cry, I don't get teary-eyed, I don't show myself to be upset or anxious. Instead, I'm calm. I take a step closer to him so that we're clearly within a distance reserved exclusively for lovers. I look into his brown eyes, and they look almost caramel-colored in the light of the moon. His face is unreadable: I can't tell if he wants me to kiss him or not, but it doesn't matter. I inch closer as I let my eyes slowly close. My eyelids meet at the same time that my lips meet his and it feels as if I've been shocked at the mouth.

I instantly recoil and open my eyes to see that Zayn is doubled over laughing, one arm around his stomach and the other pointing at me. His genuine smile has become a vicious sneer and he laughs at me. His light eyes are now dark with superiority and I realize that this was all some sick joke. He's laughing at me because I was stupid enough to think that a kiss from me would be enough to his mind about the audition. One kiss from me couldn't change his desire to heed his dying father's last piece of advice. One kiss from me couldn't change the fact that Bradford was a small town that couldn't feed nor contain a soul as big as Zayn's. Not because a kiss wasn't enough to move mountains like these, but because I wasn't enough.

When I snapped out of my waking nightmare I realized that I was crying on the dance floor while the sweaty bodies around me kept moving in sync to the music, completely oblivious to my meltdown. The cute Irishman was staring at me with a concerned look on his face.

"Wanna get out of here?" he screamed into my ear. I nodded and we made our way to the door Poppy and I had entered from. The images of Zayn laughing at me torture me and the walk to the exit seems endless.

When we finally get outside I push the cute Irishman onto the wall and press my lips to his as hard as I can. I can taste the vodka on his lips as I allow myself to loosen up a little. He places his hands on my waist and I let him. I wouldn't call it a kiss so much as a distraction. Anything to get him off of my mind.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private," he says as his lips parted from mine. I nodded without thinking. The alcohol running through my veins was going to have to make tonight's decisions for me because my heart and mind were too spent.

Cute Irishman, who's name I still didn't know, pulled me through the crowd of people outside of the abandoned building and we made our way up the driveway and closer to road. A few feet before we were reached the road he pushed me onto a red cover and kissed me. I felt absolutely nothing.

A part of me told me I should stop. I was about to do things with this guy that I could never take back, and I didn't even feel a damn thing when he kissed me. But another part of me reminded me was that the point of tonight was to not feel anything, because I let myself feel at all it would surely be for Zayn. I struggled between the two choices upon me and made the same choice I had made night after night.

He unlocked the back seat of the red car and I climbed in after him.