misfits // z.m

ch. 19 || tempest

XIX. tempest

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[Thalia's POV]

As we dressed on our final day in Amsterdam, I noticed how we both moved with the synchronisation of a couple who were beginning to get to know each other - me, hesitant in my own skin and filled with trepidation, aware of his occasional glances at me, and him - confident in himself, exchanging the small nudge as he reached for his next item of clothing.
I felt strangely liberated after last night; the way he looked at me made me feel like a siren - it felt like he only had eyes for me, and for once, I felt special.

Once I had tamed and coiled my hair into a bun, Zayn pecked me on my lips and skimmed his finger over the purpling hickey at my neck.
"Does it hurt?" He whispered against my skin.
"No." I answered truthfully, though wondered if it would be in his, and my, best interest to cover it up. Paps were everywhere - like hounds who could smell a story.

"I should probably cover it over." I smiled, loosening my hair and watching it rain down my back.
Zayn smiled, running his hands through my dark hair with ease. "You've really come out of your shell since I first met you."
I shrugged, "'s hard not to around you."
He gave me a smile and placed his hands on either side of my waist. "Come on, trouble, England awaits."

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The sun was peeking through the grey clouds, showering fragments of the sky with its sunbeams.
I'd bid Amsterdam farewell and travelled from the beautiful sunshine into the clement grey of England.
Having travelled first class, we were the first off the plane onto home ground.

Zayn took my hand in his as we wheeled each of our suitcases, having objected to letting him carry both. Zayn cast me a glance, a small smile on his face.
"What?" I asked. He let go of my hand to place it on the small of my back, his touch sending chills through my body.
"You. You're so stubborn. And emasculating."
I laughed, "Sorry. I didn't actually want to carry my suitcase." I shrugged as Zayn stared at me and continued, my voice lower this time, "I just wanted to hold your hand."
He chuckled, "Thalia, you're very sly."
"Aren't I just?" My suitcase caught on a stone, and I tugged it to get going again.

Extra security met us at arrivals in the airport, once again ushering us into a car with blacked out windows and a familiar smell of leather and air fresheners. I imagined a day where it could just be Zayn and I and nothing else.

I unlocked my phone, texting Dana.
To: Dana
Back in England! See you soon<3

Zayn leaned on my shoulder, watching me as I flicked through apps on my phone.
"What music do you like?"
"Hm?"
Zayn lifted his head to look at me, "What music do you like?"
I shrugged, "I'm not picky, I love all sorts." I handed him my phone and watched as he paged through my songs; ranging from arctic monkeys to hozier to the smiths, to...one direction.
Zayn stopped to look at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You bought my album?"
I nodded sheepishly. I'd bought it on the days before Amsterdam, deciding I should support my boyfriend in everything he did. (Because bold italics just didn't cut it when I wanted to tell the whole world he was my boyfriend. MY boyfriend.)

"You guys are actually pretty good. Especially you." I smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"What, did you think we were rubbish?" He pouted.
I laughed and ignored him, "Can I have my phone back?"
He handed it over, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his bottom lip out. "You thought we...were rubbish?"
I shrugged, "Never paid attention to the mainstream singers before."
Zayn's mouth fell open, "Thalia Harris, you wound me."
I placed my hand on his knee, tracing circles, "I wound everyone."