Hopeful In London (1D Fanfiction Sequel to Trapped In London)

19. I'm the Only Normal One

Sorry for the shortness and stupidity of it all. I'm just lazy and tired. ;p BTW. You're very welcome that I updated for you. (You know who you are) 

~Maggie xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~19. I'm the Only Normal One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie's POV

Yawning, I rolled out of bed and shoved my feet into the Ugg Boots that were placed neatly beside my bed. My sock covered feet were still cozy warm. <3

I trudged into the bathroom, groaning and tilting my head from side to side to look at my hair as I brushed my teeth. 

You know, if I were to take a concussion test every time I woke up that I would result in positive concussion every time?

Not kidding. Memory loss, lack or balance, weak. 

Jeez. Imma mess.

When I presumed to calm down my mane of hair, I stretched until I felt my back pop a number of times.

Soooo good.

I grabbed the hot chocolate from behind the coffee maker, and used that to make some. 

"You're up early," I heard from the other room, and rubbed my eyes a little before looking over to see Zayn.

"Meh," I replied flatly, rolling my head back.

DING DING DING DING DING DING F*CKING DING DING DING DING.

I popped my head up in alarm, looking around with wide eyes.

"Calm down babe," Zayn chuckled, hitting the button on top of the Coffee Maker.

"Oh," I grumbled, the noise stopping. "I guess it functions as a wake up call," I rolled my head back again, staring at the ceiling,

"You look tired," He pointed out, and I nodded.

"Meghan and Taylor are horrible sleepers. We've established this. And Taylors finally found a career she doesn't set on fire,"

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow, seeming surprised. "Please continue,"

"Well we've established she's not an artist. Other than her musical interments-"

"--Instruments,"

"That's what I said,"

"No you.. Continue,"

"Other than those things she isn't following Meghan in her singing stuff. And she can't cook," 

"Which leads you to believe..?"

"She's a book writer,"

"Author? or Poet?"

"I dunnnnnno. She writes short stories. 'bout. Stuff,"  I explained brilliantly.

"Conversations are a lunch thing," Zayn decided, kissing my forehead and two mugs.

"Food," Was my only reply as I nodded a little, taking the mug and holding it out as he poured the hot liquid into my cup.

"Eh-- wait," I flailed my arm in front of his face as he tried to take a drink. I opened up the fridge, leaning around as I looked into it. "Aha!" 

I grabbed my trusty can of RediWhip® and sprayed it onto the top of the drink, then onto his, and then into my own mouth.

"Boom," I said after swallowing. "Geniusness,"

"You have a cute morning voice," Zayn murmured, seeming to be dozing off, and I rolled my eyes. I leaned and kissed his nose.