Addicted z.m

Chapter 20

Not to be annoying and like the authors that ask for votes every chapter but for my twentieth chapter I'd just like to ask, if you are honestly enjoying this story, please vote.

I won't ever ask again.

I woke up to the sound of a door closing and sat up slowly as my recollection of the night before returned to me. I gasped when I realised I was alone and remembered Zayn had been here. His spot was still warm, which meant he hadn't gotten out of bed too long ago.

I was prepared to dash out of my room to stop him from leaving the house when I looked over at the terrace that was connected to my room. The glass doors were closed but outside I could see the shape of a body with messy hair. I smiled with relief and walked out onto the terrace to greet him.

But even when I closed the door behind me, he didn't acknowledge my presence. I stepped next to him and the smell of burning tobacco hit me.

"Good morning," his voice sounded distant and I frowned.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked. "It's only 7."

"I couldn't go back to sleep, my head was killing me." he confessed.

"Well, that's what happens when down a bottle of tequila," I joked. He either didn't find it funny or just chose not to react. He hadn't even given me a single glance, let alone a smile. I didn't think I'd get a crack of a smile from him or a laugh after last night, but I still had that part of me that hoped he would open up a little more.

"What happened last night?" he asked randomly.

"What do you mean?"

"The last thing I remember is taking a few shots in my kitchen," he clarified. "I can't remember anything after that, not even how I got here in the first place."

"Not even little snippets?" I questioned.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Well for starters, you have to promise me you won't ever get drunk again, at least not around me. You're worse than my five year old cousin."

He looked at me confused and I laughed to myself over the memories of last night. I told him about showing up to my door, and telling me he couldn't stop thinking about me. He squinted, trying to remember anything I said.

"We didn't-...you know...right?" Worry was evident in his voice.

"No," I eased his tense structure with my answer. "But you wanted to."

He sighed and stayed quiet, staring at a tree.

"Did you really get shot?" I asked.

He finally looked at me but he was completely thrown off. "What?"

"Last night, I asked you about your scar and you told me you got shot...and that you have another one on your leg."

He looked away from me, placing his lips around his cigarette then puffing out a breath of smoke.

"Did you, or did you not?" I pushed.

"I did," his voice was kind of harsh but he met my eyes to apologise. "But I don't want to talk about it."

I figured. "S-so...what does this mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Are we back together or what?" I asked.

"I don't know. I was drunk, Spencer."

I scoffed. "Then tell me, while you're sober, why did you break up with me?"