Mama, I'm in Love with a Criminal

01: Still an Innocent

01: Still an Innocent

"He's not even that bad!" I shout at my mother.

"He carries a pocket knife, Annie! How is he not even that bad?" she shouts back mockingly at me.

I scoff. "He doesn't hurt anybody with it! He's really caring! He wouldn't hurt a fly! Once you get passed his tough exterior he's a sweet, loving, caring person, ma."

She rolls her eyes. "Please."

I huff and cross my arms across my chest. "Plenty of people carry knives," I tell her with an attitude.

I'm sick of her always judging the guys I date. She's never happy with them and always finds something wrong with them. Whether it's the way he dresses or it's the way he walks, she always has a complaint.

And frankly, I'm sick of it.

"Oh, okay! That makes it all better!" she shouts, throwing her arms up. She puts her hands together. "Thank God! I was worried he was the only one!"

I scowl at her. "You know what? I'm done having this conversation. I'm leaving. I need to get away from you. I'll be back before my curfew."

I grab my jacket and car keys. I can feel my blood boiling. I'm so mad at her, I feel like crying.

I storm out the door as I hear her sigh loudly.

I get in my car and slam the door shut. The car shakes and I throw my jacket on the passengers seat. I lean my head on the steering wheel and let out a shakey breath.

Breath, AJ, just breath.

I take a few deep breaths and then start the car.

I know exactly where I'm going.

I drive straight to his apartment complex. It was on the wrong side of town, but I have been here so many times I didn't even think about it anymore.

I park in front of the old, rundown building. It looked worse from the outside. Inside, it wasn't bad at all. The appliances were all up to date. They had air conditioning and heat in the winter. Hot and cold running water. Everything was clean. There weren't any rats or bugs crawling around. It was perfectly fine. It was even reasonably priced rent.

I sigh, I grabbing my jacket and get out of the car. I lock the doors and make my way inside.

I greet the man at the front desk. He smiles at me. He's seen me plenty of times in the past.

"Zayn just got in not to long ago," he tells me.

I nod and smile, silently thanking him. "I'll just take the elevator up," I tell him before waving goodbye and walking away.

I press the button to the floor I'm going to and wait.

For some reason, I'm really hyper. Well, not hyper, but in a way. I just can't wait to see him. I haven't seen him all week.

It's Saturday. I could only go out on the weekends because my mother is strict with me.

I blame my brother for that. He would never listen to anything she said, but always told me I had to.

He's always getting into trouble an my mother tries to control him, but you just can't. He's untamable no matter how hard you try.

It was only my brother, my mother and I. My dad walked out on us when I was little. I don't even remember him, just the things my mother tells me about him. So because I never really had a dad, my brother, Andy, has always looked out for us. He is the only man in the house.

When the elevator comes to a stop, I quickly make my way out and walk down the long hall to apartment 6F.

Before I can even knock, the door swings open.

I smile at the figure standing in front of me.

He smirks at me and shakes his head. "I was just going to call you, babe."

"For what?" I ask curiously.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. "Believe it or not, I missed you."

I raise my eyebrows at him and lean against the doorframe. "Do you really mean that? Or are you just trying to get me into bed?" I ask, only joking with him, though.

His smile changes back to his signature smirk. "A little of both." He winks at me and pulls me inside, closing the door behind us.

I roll my eyes and peck his lips quickly before going over to his small living room. He lived alone, so it was perfect size for just him.

I sit down on the couch and he walks off into the kitchen. I put my jacket down as he walks back over. He has a beer in one hand and a soda in the other. He hands me the soda can and sits down next to me.

As he takes a sip of his drink, I look over his appearance.

He's shirtless, showing off his lean, muscular, tan chest. His raven hair is gelled up and his quiff had a reasonable height to it. He's wearing sweatpants and his boxers were sticking out the top, just enough to read the Calvin Klein bit.

My eyes roam over his tattoos. He has a bunch, but they all fit him.

He told me the other day that he might get my name tattooed on his arm. I was quite flattered.

"So," he starts, putting his arm around me. "What brings you here?" he asks, looking down at me.

"I can't just visit my boyfriend?" I counter.

He smirks and puts his beer down on the coffee table. "You can, but we usually don't spend our Saturday nights here."

"Well, I decided to switch it up," I say with a smile.

"And you know I don't like it when you come here by yourself when it's dark," he adds, ignoring my comment, pointing to the time on his cable box.

I sigh and open my can of soda. I take a sip and then put it down next to his beer. "I'm a big girl, Zayn," I tell him.

He smiles at me and kisses my temple. "I know, but you know it's not safe around here."

"You sound like my mother," I mutter.

He nods his head. "That's why you're here, huh? She pissed you off again?"

"Beyond pissed," I say with a huff.

He chuckles. "What happened, baby?"

"She doesn't like you," I say, leaning my head on his chest.

He smoothes down my hair. "Most parents don't."

I groan and look up at him. "I don't get why. You're not just a tough guy."

He laughs. "Them what am I?"

"A really nice guy."

He laughs some more and then looks at me. "The legal system would beg to differ."

"I know, but I mean, it's not like you do all that stuff because you want to. Your family needs money! And everybody sells drugs or does them at least once in their life. "

He looks at me sternly. "You better not be doing drugs," he tells me.

I roll my eyes. "You sound like Andy."

He chuckles. "Well, I did have to swear to him I would protect you. Even though I would do that regardless."

I sigh. "They just don't understand."

"They're trying to protect you, babes," he says softly.

"But I can handle myself," I say stubbornly.

Zayn leans down and kisses my head. "You're only seventeen."

"But I'll be eighteen in a couple months!" I argue.

"A couple of months is April. We're in the middle of November, Annie."

He only calls me Annie when he's serious or flirting. Every other time, he calls me by my nickname, AJ or just A. It was short of Annie Johanna, the ridiculous name my mother gave me.

I sigh and lean against his bare chest. "Why can I just run away and live with you?" I mutter.

He smiles and kisses my head. "As much as I would just love having you here all the time, you have to finish school."

I look up at him and into his golden brown eyes. "Promise?"

He nods. "When I get enough money to get out of here."

"Why? I like it here. It's cozy."

He smiles. "It's not safe."

"So? You can protect me," I say with a smile.

He sighs. "I have a reputation, you know that. I have people who are always after me. I can't always protect you."

"But you want to protect me, right?" I almost plead.

He sighs and leans his head back against the wall behind the couch.

"Zayn?"

He takes a deep breathe and then looks at me. "You're going to get hurt if you stay with me. I have no control over what I do. If somebody finds out about you, they could hurt you, A. I don't want you to get hurt."

I know he's only saying that because he cares, but he'd never admit it. He rarely shows affection. The 'I missed you' I got earlier wasn't meant for me to take seriously. He meant it but he didn't want to get attached. He was a criminal who played with girls' hearts and I made it my goal to change that about him.

"I'll be fine," I insisted.

He rolls his eyes. "No, you won't be. You shouldn't be with me."

"And why not?" I ask. "I haven't gotten hurt so far."

"Yeah, so far," he exaggerates. "But in the future, you could."

"No, because I have you and Andy to protect me."

"What if we're not there?" he asks.

"Then I scream and kick them in the balls," I say with an innocent smile.

Zayn laughs. "That doesn't always work, babe."

"Then, I'll run really fast."

"What if they have a gun?" he asks seriously.

I'm lost for words. I didn't think of that.

To he honest, guns don't really scare me much. Yeah, I know they're used to killing, but I'm not really afraid of them. I'd heard a gun shot before and I knew you're suppose to duck down and cover your head. However, none of it really scares me. I would only be scared if someone held me at gunpoint while dangling me off a cliff because I'm afraid of heights.

"You shouldn't be with me. I don't know how to get that through your head. I'm not good for you," Zayn stresses with a sigh.

"I don't care," I tell him. "You're still innocent to me."

He sighs and smiles. "That's the nicest thing I've heard all week. How thoughtful of you."

"I don't want to hear your, smartass answers, Zayn," I tell him, waving my finger in his face.

He smirks. "I'm full of them."

"Believe me, I know," I say to him.

He smirks wider. "I have more if you want, babe."

I roll my eyes playfully. "I've heard enough of your smartass comments to last a lifetime."

Zayn gasps. "Excuse me? Are you getting fresh with me?" he asks, turning to face me.

"Maybe I am," I say, keeping a straight face and challenging him.

He smirks and leans in closer to me. "I would be careful if I was you. That's a bad idea."

"Apparently so is dating you, but I really don't give a shit," I whisper to him.

He leans closer so he's almost touching my lips. "I'm a bad boy, Annie. I'm not good for you." As he whispers, his lips brush up against mine, driving me crazy.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself close to him, but still not kissing him.

"I like bad boys," I whisper.

"Even criminals like me?"

"They're my favorite."

He smirks. "But mama doesn't like criminals."

"But mama has never been with a criminal like you," I say, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

Zayn let out a throaty groan. He would never admit it, but he loved when I would play with his hair, even though he hated when people touched it.

I smirk at him and he pulls me onto his lap.

"You know I don't like it when people touch my hair, Annie," he says in a raspy tone. His lips were inches away from mine.

I pout innocently. "I'm sorry."

He smirks, leaning his forehead against mine. "That doesn't work on me. I invented that look, babe."

“I make it look better,” I tell him with a smirk.

He leans closer to me, his warm breath on my lips. “Sure about that?” he teases.

“Positive.”

He smiles. “Negative.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think so.”

“Why do you argue with me?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because it’s fun,” I say, continuing to play with his hair.

He leans his head back onto my hands and groans again. He looks at me and smirks before crashing his lips into mine.

Whenever Zayn kisses me, he smiles. He won’t admit it, but he does. His kisses are always filled with passion, too. Then, there’s that one emotion I can never figure out. It is either love or lust. He always holds me close, as if he’s afraid of loosing me or something. I don’t know. Maybe he just doesn’t want anyone to have me, which I was perfectly fine with.

Zayn pulls away, breathing heavy. “It’s almost nine.” His voice is hoarse.

I shake my head and kiss him again. “I don’t want to go,” I whine when I pull away.

He smiles and kisses me again. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

I sigh and reluctantly get off his lap. Zayn pulls on a t-shirt and I put my jacket on.

“It’s cold outside,” I tell him as he walks towards the door.

He shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

He walks me down to my car and keeps his arm around me the whole way down.

When we get there, he looks down at me as I get in. “Next time you decided to come here, call me first,” he tells me sternly. “It’s not safe here, Annie.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine.”

He laughs and kisses my cheek through the open window. “Alright. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I sigh heavily. “When are you…ya know, going on your next…thing?”

His face turns serious. “Tomorrow night.”

I sigh and turn on the car. “Call me before and after you get back,” I tell him.

“You sound just like my mother,” he chuckles. “I’ll be fine. I always am, A.”

“I know, but still…”

He smiles and kisses me. “I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I say as I start to pull out.

I see Zayn waving in my rearview mirror. I sigh, but smile. He’s really not that bad. I don’t understand why my mother doesn’t like him.

　

　

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Part one!
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