[COMPLETED]
❝Of all the races I've started, loving him is the one I never want to finish.❞
In this re-imagination of my most popular story, Arielle Hawthorne is an illegal street racer, just like Zayn Malik. Zayn's egotistical, flirty, and a major p...
"The past is a good place to visit, but certainly not a good place to stay."
— Unknown
A/N: hello! Love me! 😭 I love you guys, enjoy 💕
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A R I E L L E
"Did you just say his name was Ezra?" I ask him, feeling all of the blood drain from my fucking face. "Like Ezra fuckin' Sullivan?"
Memories flash back of my childhood. Of things I wish I could forget and of people I have no desire to reminisce about.
"Yeah," Zayn says and I can sense he doesn't even really want to tell me about this. He seems uncomfortable about the entire thing and knowing Ezra, I'm sure as to why he feels that way. The guy's fucking psycho. "He called you Ella."
I swallow an uncomfortable lump in my throat, remembering when he used to call me that as a child. I didn't know just how involved he'd become in my life after my father's death. If I knew, I would have moved out as a damn child somehow. I would've left the fucking country. I would've figured out some way to get away from him and my mother.
"How do you know him, Arielle?" When Zayn asks the question, he looks at me softly, aware that I likely don't want to talk about it. I'm sure Ezra said something to him that made his mind wander. Like how Ezra always called me his darling Ella in the creepiest fucking tone ever.
It was his way of mocking my dad. He says it that way because he knows how much it really bothers me. He knows how to get under my skin.
Plus he thinks he's my father now ever since my dad's passing and the fact that he's technically been my only father figure since then. Still doesn't make him my fucking dad.
I sigh as Zayn rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. "When I was a kid, he was my dad's best friend." I pause, unsure of how much to share with him as he just waits patiently. "My dad was always good, straight edge. Ezra, on the other hand . . ." I trail off, giving Zayn a weak smile, "he never fuckin' was."
"My dad got caught up in his bullshit and he was murdered when I was really young. I barely even remember him."
"I'm sorry," Zayn tells me, bringing my hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of them. "Did they ever find out who did it?"
"No one was ever arrested for it," I admit to him, "But I'm positive I know who did it."
Zayn twists his neck, surprised at my admission. "Wait, seriously?"
