Innocent Until Proven Guilty: A Zayn Malik Love Story

(4)

            “So,” I breathed out. “How do I look?” I twirled around in my vintage patterned spring dress. I matched the flower print halter dress with nude pumps and coordinating accessories.

            Bristol raised her eyebrows in astonishment. “You look really good.”

            “Thank you,” I smiled, nervously playing with the hemline of my dress.

            Her smile morphed into a mischievous one. “You look really good – for a date.” She added.

            “It’s not a date,” I defensively retorted. “Just two people going out to eat for dinner.” Alright, so maybe yesterday Zayn and I threw the word ‘date’ around here and there; but there is no way this is a date. After all, two people have to like each other to go on a date, right? And I don’t like Zayn; I’m only looking for answers.

            Bristol nodded slowly, batting her eyelashes for emphasis. “Whatever you say, Joey.” She murmured. Rolling onto her stomach, she propped her head up with her hands. “All I’m saying is that if you’re going to be wearing that, then you’re going to give him the wrong impression.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked, crossing my legs and folding my arms.

            She sighed, and then shook her head. “You look sexy.”

            “Sexy?” I smirked. “Do you even know what that means?”

            Bristol smiled sheepishly at me. “Kind of,” she admitted. “Daddy uses it when he sees a pretty lady in public.”

            “He does, does he?” I asked, chuckling softly while shaking my head. “Your daddy’s a pig, Bristol.”

            She shot up from the bed, nodding her head furiously in agreement. “I know right!” She cried. “I mean, have you seen him eat before? He’s so gross.”

            I slowly walked closer toward her. “Gross?” I asked. “Like this?” Before she could react, I already had my legs on either side of her small body. My hands found their way to her stomach before I began tickling her like crazy and laughing like a mad man.

            “J-Joey!” She cried in between fits of giggle. “S-stop it.”

            Her wish came true. In one swift moment, I was back on my feet, straightening out my dress. But not because she asked me to, no, it was because of a sound that came from the window. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I slowly made my way toward it. “Wait!” Bristol screeched. “Here, take this.”

            I stared at the random broom in her hand before enveloping it in my own. “Thanks,” I mumbled. “I guess.” I turned the knob on the door which leads into my balcony. As soon as the door was open, the lights on either side of the door flickered on. “That’s weird,” I said, turning around to face Bristol. “There’s nothing here.”

            Bang. I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes shifting toward the source of the noise. A tiny rock landed right beside my feet, knocking against the stone flooring. I walked closer toward the edge, looking around for someone who might have thrown it. There enough, in all his glory, stood a certain brown haired boy.

            Zayn.

            “What are you doing?” I hissed, looking between him and the pile of rocks he threw.

            He sheepishly smiled in return, digging his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just couldn’t use the front door.”

            “True.” I muttered.

            His eyes suddenly lit up. “Were you planning on using that against me?” He asked, nodding his head toward the broom.

            “Sort of,” I mumbled, my cheeks heating up quickly.

            Zayn shook his head, chuckling softly. “Only you, Johansen.”

            “I think you know enough about me now.” I snapped, narrowing my eyes in his direction.

            He shrugged, raising a defiant eyebrow. “Then why don’t you come downstairs so I can tell you more about myself?”

            Without a word, I slipped out of the balcony and locked the door behind me. “That’s my queue to leave, B.” I sighed, reaching for my clutch.

            Bristol followed me all the way down the stairs and to the front door. “You sure you don’t want to go home?” I asked, pulling her into a hug.

            She kissed my cheek and whispered a ‘good luck’ before responding. “Me? No way! Savannah promised to play UNO with me.”

            “Say goodnight to her for me.” I said, opening the door to leave. “And don’t forget to lay off the sugar; I don’t think Savannah would be able to deal with you.”

            Bristol smiled evilly before skipping down the long hallway. “I can’t make you any promises!” She called out in a sing-song voice. I rolled my eyes playfully and stepped out of the door, bumping into someone along the way.

            “These are for you, my lady.” Zayn cheekily said, pushing forward a vase full of the most beautiful lavender flowers I’ve ever seen.

            I smiled in appreciation and took them in my hand, stepping backward into the house to place down the vase. After making sure the close was clear, I casually placed them on a small table near the door. I made sure to smell them before I met Zayn outside again.

            “It isn’t nearly enough to make up for what I owe you, but it’s a start, yes?” Zayn chuckled nervously, putting his hand on the small of my back and leading me toward his car.

            I shook my head reassuringly. “No, Zayn,” I insisted. “It was really sweet of you. Thank you.”

            “I’m glad you liked them,” he replied. “Harry helped pick them out.”

            I smiled at the sound of his name. “Harry – isn’t he your. . .”

            “Sexual friend?”

            “Yeah,” I chuckled. “Him.”

            Zayn sighed. “I know he comes off as, well, that – but I promise you once you actually get to know him he isn’t –” He paused. “Actually, never mind.”

            The two of us laughed the rest of the way to his car. He opened the passenger seat for me, which I happily slid into. I fumbled with my fingers nervously as he settled into his seat. I don’t know why I was feeling nervous. Can I even say I’m feeling nervous? It’s more like anxiousness. Yeah, that’s the word. I’m anxious as to where this night will lead up to.

            I didn’t even realize we were already driving. There was complete silence in the car. But, it was a comfortable silence. That was until he broke it. “Do you like any stations in particular?” He asked.

            I shook my head in response. “Anything’s cool.”

            With one hand, he reached over and turned on the radio. I watched from the corner of my eye as he pressed several buttons, switching between different stations. Suddenly, ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ came on.

            Zayn was about to change it when I brushed his hand away. “No, I like this song.” I said. “Do celebrities sing along to their own songs on the radio?” I suddenly asked. What? It’s a decent question.

            “I dunno,” he playfully replied, “want to find out?”

            And that’s how it was for the rest of the short car ride; goofily singing along to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’.