Storms {z.m.}

Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - Christine

I rummage through my closet with newfound determination. I was going to be there for Zayn, but whether I was going with the intent of becoming more than friends or not, I had to look good.

I couldn’t wear a dress or anything that made me look like I tried too hard, I had to be somewhat casual so that he could see that this was just like old times. I saw my Midnight Memories tank top and contemplated wearing it; it would be a great ice-breaker. “Look, your face is on my left boob,” I’d say.

What am I thinking?

I quickly shove the garment into the back of my closet and try to find something more suitable and less creepy. Something that was girl-next-door pretty. I pulled out a plain white tee and my denim jacket. I put them on quickly and looked in the mirror. If it weren’t for the black tattoo peeking out behind the sleeve of the jacket and the green streak in my hair I might even look like the old me that Zayn used to know.

Crissy.

But the old me was never given a second glance. I wasn’t beautiful enough to captivate anyone by my appearance, so no one ever got to know me like Zayn did. Even then, Zayn never even noticed I was in love with him when the signs were clearly there. That is why I had to be braver, be bolder. Christine always got noticed, and I liked that.

As I looked myself over in the mirror I realized that I don’t have to go back to being Crissy just for Zayn. I quickly undressed and grabbed a pink bandeau and put on a black sleeveless Misfits t-shirt. I paired it with a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and black converse. My belly button piercing peeked from behind the thin material of the black t-shirt. I looked myself over and a thought came to me that I had never thought before: this felt more like me than the first outfit. I spent so much time and effort trying to reinvent myself and be someone else, and now I feel more like the persona I tried to create than who I used to be. I didn’t know if this scared me or thrilled me but I didn’t want to think about that right now. 

I sat at my desk and pulled out my make up bag. I caked on a thick layer of black eyeliner over my eyelids. As I continued doing my make up my mind began to ponder over how exactly I was going to handle talking to Zayn again. Seeing him the other day was completely unexpected and it was a disaster. I couldn’t have that happen.

Would I hug him like I used to? Would it be more appropriate to shake his hand since he has a girlfriend? Are him and Perrie still dating? The questions wouldn’t stop coming.

I looked at myself in the small mirror and realized having half an inch of make up on isn’t the most casual look I could have. But how does one dress to reconcile with their ex-best friend that they are in love with?

Am I in love with him still? I didn’t have to think about that one too hard. My body reacted to thoughts of him alone, I can’t imagine what would happen when I was mere feet away from him. I’m already extremely nervous.

“Ugh,” I say as I further examine my make up. It looks too trashy. I begin to wipe it off when I notice movement behind my make up mirror; Zayn is in his room.

I instantly freeze. I am not mentally prepared for what is to come and it terrifies me to think that it could be a disaster like last time. I try to remind myself that I’m only there in the capacity of a friend to help him get through this tough time, but the unreasonable part of me is urging me to take this chance to tell him how I feel.

I feel like Angel Crissy and Devil Christine are standing on my shoulders and they’re both making very good points. But then again, the devil on my left shoulder is wearing a shirt for a dress so she clearly doesn’t have much reason.

I duck my head below my window and continue wiping off the excess make up when I hear his voice.

“What are you hiding from?” I’ve heard this voice millions of times, most recently on the telly, but hearing it in person after all this time really gives me goose bumps. Not being able to see him lets me hone in on his voice without being distracted by his brown eyes. It really has deepened, it’s a man’s voice now. I beg my heart to beat a regular pace but it refuses to. He has such a control over my biology and he doesn’t even know it.

“I can see you,” he announces, louder this time. I contemplate the thought of slinking further into my chair and pretending like I’m really not here, but I realize he can see the top of my head peeking a few inches above my window sill. 

I slowly lift my head up from my desk and let my eyes take in the sky and trees, then the white house in front of me, I even look to the right at the cars parked in front of the house. I take a deep breath and finally rest my eyes on him.

He’s wearing a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up and I can see the black ink plastered all over his right arm as well the beginnings of a sleeve on his left arm. He had both arms placed on the window sill and his window was wide open. His hair is sticking up in every direction and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in two weeks. I expect my stomach to drop and my heart to go into cardiac arrest, but my whole body eases when I see his smile. Although now it’s surrounded my facial hair, that smile is the same smile I grew up with. I swear that smile alone could power a city. Zayn smiles wider than anyone I know. I feel a familiar calm take over me as images of me and Zayn hanging out after school flash through my mind.

Why am I so nervous? This is the same boy I spent hours with for days on end, no matter how much fame and money he has accumulated in the last four years, he’s still Zain Javadd Malik.

I’ve really got nothing more to lose. And Liya is right, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if.

“Hi, Zen” I yell back across the empty space. I give him a wide smile and I realize that for the first time in four years it’s not fake. In this empty bedroom just feet away from Zayn’s, on this beautiful summer day, in this beautifully bizarre moment, I am happy.