.07
A few moments later the door opens, revealing Zayn without a shirt on. Tattoos pepper his arms, his chest. I marvel at them. Feel the urge to trace them.
"What are you doing?" He asks, not rudely.
I flick my eyes up at him, away from his defined muscles. I can feel myself, slowly coming back. "I don't know." I answer simply.
A faint smile shows on his lips. He steps back, opening his door wider. "Come in."
I do. I climb the steps to Zayn's loft. A peculiar, odd feeling trickles in as I step foot in his room. Familiarity. Comfort.
Zayn sits on the couch. I do as well, a cushion away from him. I watch him, and he watches me. We're kind of staring at each other, me taking in his newly shaven face. It looks nice. Makes him look young.
"I'm messed up," I abruptly say. Zayn arches an eyebrow. "I mean, you probably know that."
"I don't think you're messed up." He says simply, his accent lacing through the words, making them somehow sound pretty.
I breathe a laugh. "I ran out on you, freaked out in the middle of a parking lot, and now, after I've fucked your roommate, I intrude into your bedroom because I can't stop thinking about you. Oh, wait, I barely even know you!" I explode. Its been festering ever since the diner a few days ago, where I realized this random boy had caught my attention. That he made me feel whole. Okay.
Zayn keeps his face neutral. I feel ashamed. Stupid. He probably has a girl on her way now.
"Sorry." I mutter. I get up. Walk towards the stairs.
"Wait," Zayn says, standing up and walking over to me. "Stop running away from me," He says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
My eyes shine with tears. Stupid tears. "I..." I stammer. I can't say anything. My throats closing up, betraying me.
"Come sit down, okay?" He advises, almost like he's walking on eggshells. I reluctantly agree with a nod. I sit down in my old spot, but Zayn sits right next to me, so close that his thigh touches mine. He grabs my hand, tracing circles on my palm. I let him. "You intrigue me." He finally says quietly, his eyes peering up at me through his long eyelashes.
I let his words slide through me. Makes my stomach do a twist. "Why?"
Zayn shrugs, biting his lip. "You just do. I don't know why." The silence stretches between us. I'm becoming whole again, around him. Every time we've come into contact the whole feeling has festered, spilling over my insides. But when I pull away from him, it vanishes. I don't know which way to turn.
"I like it when you shave." I say out of nowhere. Zayn's mouth tugs at the corners and he lets out a small laugh.
"It was for a job interview." He explains. I raises my eyebrows.. "At the community center, downtown. Teaching an art class."
I nod, taking the information in. "Do you draw? Or paint?"
Zayn's smile turns bashful. "Just a little."
"Can I see something?"
So this is what a conversation feels like, conversing back and forth. Being interested in something.
"Maybe another time," He says nervously, his lips turning pink.
It almost makes me smile. How cute he is. The thought is so normal and unscary that I start to worry. My stomach starts aching, an unpleasant feeling settling. Why was it so hard for me to be normal?
"Chandler," Zayn says, his hand caressing my cheek. It forces me to look at him. "Come here," He whispers. I do as told, leaning in towards him.
The kiss is slow and passionate. Zayn takes his time, his hands sliding through my hair. "Zayn," I whisper as he starts peppering my neck with kisses. I inhale softly as he finds my weak spot, right below my ear. He sucks at the delicate spot, nibbling at it gently.
My vision becomes blurry. I don't know what's happening, but before I know it, tears are crawling down my cheeks. Zayn pulls away slightly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Chandler, what's wrong?"
I turn my head away. I can't stand to look at him, to be under his worried gaze. "I.. I don't know." My voice cracks.
I think about Annie. How we used to tell each other everything. I remember when she talked about a mysterious boy who she was in love with, and how once she started choking up just thinking about how much she loved him. Little did I know she was talking about my brother.
But I wasn't in love with Zayn. He was just a boy I met last week.
Except I did like him.
And that scares me.
"Look at me," Zayn urges. I shake my head.
"I can't." I whisper, wiping away a stray tear.
Abruptly, Zayn's arms go around me. I'm about to question his motives but I'm cut off by him picking me up bridal style.
I wipe away the rest of my tears. I'm against his bare chest. I study one of his tattoos before leaning over it and kissing it quickly. I hear Zayn's sharp intake of breath, but he keeps walking.
He sits me down on his bed. His white duvet immediately surrounds me, and I sink in the soft material. Zayn pulls the blanket down, tucking me under the heavy comforter. "Here," He says, bringing up a white sheet and tucking it around my slim body. I'm watching him, his gestures making my heart swell.
"Lay with me," I suggest, my voice small. Zayn smiles a little, nodding. He walks to the other side of the bed, retracting his shorts from his body. He's wearing black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, leaving little to nothing to the imagination. Sliding in next to me, Zayn wraps his arm around my middle, pulling my back against his front.
"Good night," He whispers, placing a kiss right below my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I snuggle into him.
"Sweet dreams." I reply.
I keep my eyes open as I feel Zayn slowly go to sleep, his breathing becoming even and his hold around me loosening. I stare at the wall opposite of us, wondering what the hell happened tonight.
