Pause. Rewind. Play. (A Zayn Malik Fanfic)

Chapter 11: Clubbing

"So do you want to go first, or do you want me to?" Zayn asks. He's been asking me the same question on our entire "journey" together and I've replied with the same head shake. We sit on a bus stop bench. We've wandered pretty far out of town. He left his phone back at the hotel and mine died a long time ago. I don't think any of the press has gotten us yet, which is good.

Oh God, I can already see the next headline if they found us together: Zayn Malik and Ari Catalano, more than friends? I hate paparazzi, always changing the story and ruining people's lives.

"Honestly, I never want to talk about this," I say as the bus came. We both got in and put in change before going to the way back for seats. This is the last bus for tonight and we're the only ones on. I don't own a car, and taxi cabs are nasty, not like buses aren't worse enough. However, I feel it being more awkward sitting with a taxi cab driver than in a bus with a lot of other people. So I do use the bus quite a bit. That and walking to get to places.

"Care to explain why?" he asks. Zayn shifts next to me so his head rests on my lap. I don't protest. I hesitantly start to run my hands through Zayn's quiff, messing it up a lot. I tought he'd get mad or something, considering he loves his quiff, but no, he just stays still and let me toy around with his hair. I always did love running my hands through his hair, it felt really nice.

"I'm not ready yet," I say with a big sigh. Zayn closes his eyes.

"You'll never be ready," he says before opening his eyes. Just by looking at me can make me blush ever so slightly. "The real question is, do you ever want to settle this?" I close my eyes, sighing deeply before opening them again. Zayn's eyes are studying my every move.

"I don't know," I whisper, twiddling a lock of hair in my fingers.

"How can you not know?" he asks, sitting up. He looks me in the eye with annoyance. Really Zayn? Is that supposed to get me to talk?

"I just don't okay!" I snap Seeing as the bus stopped at the corner a little ways from my apartment, I get up. He takes hold of my wrist, but I snap my wrist away from his touch. "This is my stop." Zayn hesitantly lets me go.

"You've changed, you know that?" I'm halfway down the isle now and the driver looks pissed that I'm taking so long. I stop in my steps.

"And you haven't?" I ask coldly over my shoulder as I finally get off the bus. I don't look at is as I walk down the street, into the apartment complex, and up to my home.

How dare he say I've changed? I will admit I'm not the same Ari back from Bradford, but it isn't like Zayn's still the good old boy he is, now is he? Zayn just frustrates me to no end nowadays. It's nothing like it was before when we'd just click and talk so easily to each other. Oh, how I've missed those days.

We could talk effortlessly without a care in the world. Our phone bills always went up because we'd be talking to each other all night. Scoldings from our parents never stopped us. I have to say, Zayn did make me a bit more out-going, no long Miss. Goody-Two-Shoes and more of a regular rebellious teenager.

The amount of times we got in trouble is ridiculous, but neither of us ever cared. Groundings never stopped us from seeing each other. I did turn into one bad ass from Zayn. However, I was still more of the responsible one in our relationship, stopping him from doing anything too drastic.

The best part was, we'd just laugh everything off. We were two love-struck teenagers that were having fun with life while we still could. Zayn helped me actually live life instead of sitting around all day reading and painting. Back then, I didn't really like painting all much either. It's weird how a lot has changed since coming to New York.