.10
"Where are you going?" I asked from the passenger's side of Zayn's car.
"A place." Zayn replies vaguely, his eyes glued to the road.
I sigh, looking out the window. Even though it was only eight am, the streets of New York were packed with traffic. I always preferred walking, side-stepping this traffic. But Zayn seemed patient, not once showing frustration with how incredibly slow we were forced into going. I just wanted to go home. If Zayn knew about me, about everything, he would be just as disgusting with me as my brother.
After another 45 minutes of traffic, Zayn parks on the side of the road in front of a small diner. He gives me a small grin. "We're here."
"I don't wanna go in," I say, crossing my arms. Remembering my brother's declaration of hate towards me put me in a bad mood, and all I wanted to do was go home. Fuck Zayn. He barely knew me.
His grin falters. "Fine."
Before I know it, Zayn has the car in reverse. He flies down the road, his eyes on the road. I don't know what he's doing. Did I finally piss him off enough to make him leave me alone? Apart of me regrets it; but most of me is relieved, not having to bear a full day of being out in the open.
After an hour of traffic and silence, we pull up to a park outside of NYC. It's a small clearing, barely visible from the road.
I don't say anything as I get out. Better not to argue.
Zayns rifles through the back seat before pulling out a quilt.
I follow him to a spot right in the middle of the park, where the sun is shining. He places the quilt down on the grass, smoothing out the wrinkles.
I lay down on it, my hands behind my head. I can hear Zayn's chuckle as he lays next to me.
We look at the sky in silence for awhile. It's a dreary day, clouds blocking the morning sun.
"On my first day of Kindergarten, I met Annie. We were fighting over a swing on the playground," I chuckled at the memory. "From then on, we hated each other. Every chance we got, we fought. And then in third grade we were table buddies and slowly became best friends. Our moms were both drunks. We relied on ourselves. Two eight year olds, roaming through New York City alone," I chuckle bitterly, the words sour in my mouth. I stop, glance at Zayn. He's looking at me intently, curiously. I shrug. "I'll tell you the rest sometime else."
Zayn turns his head, looking back up at the sky. "My mum likes - or liked - traditional things. Curfew was dusk, family dinners every night at six. She was big on bonding, so every Wednesday was game night. Sometimes we went bowling, sometimes to the cinema. Or sometimes we just sat at home, playing board games." He pauses. "I miss that."
"Do you have any siblings?" I asked.
"Yeah, a sister. Her name is Ellis and she leaves back in Bradford with my dad."
We're silent.
It's comfortable somehow, two people laying side by side, watching the sky.
We make small talk for awhile. Zayn tells me his dads a businessman and his sister is fourteen, that he misses both of them. I remember him telling me he hasn't talked to either of them in a year. I want to ask about that, why he's been persistent, but I decide against it. It was peaceful, listening to his soothing voice.
I tell Zayn about my mother's drunkenness. About how I grew up with it, and I didn't know what it was like to have a real family. I tell him about my dad, how he left. Its easier than I thought, talking about them.
The best part about it is that there are no "sorry's." No condolences. Just chatter. Just two broken people reliving reasons why they're broken.
Zayn's arm snakes around my shoulders. I tense up, but instantly decide it was okay. His gesture was okay. Relaxing, I used his arm as a pillow, inhaling his smoky, cologne scent as my eyes fluttered close.
-
"Chandler, wake up."
My eyes open, being met with blurriness. I blink, taking in my surroundings. Zayn sits above me, a smile playing on his lips. Behind him, the sky is getting dark. My limbs pop as I sit up, yawning.
"How long was I asleep?" I ask.
"Five hours." Zayn replies.
I remember being at the apartment, not being able to sleep for forty eight hours, the emptiness I had felt. Being with Zayn seemed to wipe all of that away.
"Oh." I feel like I ruined Zayn's afternoon. "I'm sorry."
Zayn chuckles, "It's okay. It looked like you hadn't slept in awhile, I'm glad you did." We sit in silence as I ponder what we're gonna do next. Was Zayn planning on doing something else, since he woke me up? Or was he going to take me home? The thought makes me almost sad. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to be alone.
Just seven hours previous I wanted to. Seven hours ago I would've done anything to be locked in a room with my pills. But now I preferred Zayn's company.
"Do you want me to take you back to your flat?" Zayn asked, pulling out a smoke. I watched him light it, the way his mouth curled around the small object, his hollowed cheeks.
"N-no," I said nervously, biting my lip.
Well, honesty is key.
Zayn's eyes flickered up to mine in surprise. His mouth tugged at the corners in surprised delight. "Really?"
I felt almost giddy, being able to make him smile goofily. "Yeah."
"Alright," He took a drag, still peering at me. I stared right back, marveling over his beauty. I wanted to run my fingers over his rough cheek, feel the small hair of his scruff beneath them. "Are you hungry?"
I realized I hadn't eaten in two days. My stomach grumbled at the thought, and Zayn laughed. "Guess so," He said, giving me a wink.
My stomach fluttered, watching him take another drag. The smoke blew all around us, bathing us in a hazy glow. It almost felt like we were surrounded in delicate ribbon, as if we were safe from the rest of the world.
"Do you want to try?" Zayn asked, holding the cigarette toward me, the butt of it facing my way.
I hesitated before grabbing it. Annie and I used to smoke - when we were fifteen and it felt cool. But Annie grew to hate it, so we stopped.
I take a long drag, liking the way it felt when I inhaled, the small beating it gave to the back of my throat. Zayn chuckled as I handed the smoke back to him.
"What?" I asked. The drag gave me a minuscule buzz that only last a few, disappointing seconds.
"I was expecting you to at least cough."
I shrugged, trying for a small smile. It felt more like a grimace and I immediately stopped, but still felt a little proud that I managed to impress Zayn. "Well, I didn't."
Zayn just nodded, his smile still present. His tongue poked between his teeth, his eyes crinkling. It made me want to smile, his was so adorable.
Adorable?
I just used the word adorable?
I almost face palmed, but quickly grew aware of my surroundings.
Zayn stood, stomping out his cigarette. He held out his hand for me, and I took it without hesitating.
We folded the blanket before walking back to his car.
"What now?" I asked, almost shyly.
Zayn looked at me, a mischievous grin on his face. "You'll see."
