Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

41. The Past and the Future

Harry

After this kiss, we lie silently in each other's arms for a long time. Neither of us says a word. I notice that Zayn wants to talk, but something is stopping him.

"How's the preparation for your exhibition going, Zee? Have you got everything ready?"

Zayn looks up and smiles.

"Everything is organized. The paintings are already in the gallery."

"And are you satisfied with your pieces of work?"

"I'm happy. In fact, I'm very happy. I think the vernissage will be a great success."

"That makes me happy for you", I answer and give him a big kiss on the mouth.

"Mmhh," moans Zayn and embraces my body.

"I'm addicted to your lips, Hazza," he whispers.

"And I'm crazy about you. But I'd like to go back to last night. I would like to ask you something.", I mumble against his lips, which keep pressing on mine.

With a pleading voice Zayn says: "Do we have to talk about this now? I'm glad my terrible headaches are over. I don't like to talk about the fateful night anymore," he grumbles.

"Oh no, Malik...you won't get away with it so easily. I have to know who the beautiful lady was and what was going on between you two", I tease him, but I am totally serious about it.

He lies relaxed on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. "Are you jealous ?" he grins mischievously.

"Maybe I am jealous, Zayn. What do you have to say in your defense," I joke.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Well, let me tell you, I don't believe a word you're saying. Go on, tell me."

So far, our conversation on this subject has been banal. We are just scratching the surface. In reality, however, I want to know all the details. My jealousy is eating me up inside. Of course I know that Zayn maybe doesn't remember what happened. He was so drunk that night. Still, I'm trying to get something out of him. Maybe his memories of that night will hurt me. But even worse is the uncertainty of what actually happened between them.

"Mmmhhh... so I was in the pub, sitting over a glass of beer..." he opens the conversation.

"Just one beer? Don't make me laugh!", I counter.

"Okay, okay, maybe I had few beers. Well, then this pretty woman came up to me."

My throat constricts when I hear about it.....pretty woman.....I try to play the cool, not to let it show how much these two words stir me up inwardly. I can't compete with a woman. A woman is a woman and a man is a man.

"What did she say to you?" I ask and hope for a less painful answer.

"I don't remember. Why is that so important, Hazza?" purrs Zayn and tries to distract me with his tenderness.

After his lips already kiss my neck and make their way to my collarbone, I whisper into his ear: "Come on, Zayn. At least you remember that she was pretty."

"Not as beautiful as you." he mumbles and continues his kisses unimpressed.

I whine about his uncommunicativness. "Zayn...". Zayn rolls his eyes, runs his fingers through his hair and sighs loudly.