Complementary

twelve

medicine - the 1975

zayn

We are sat on my couch with a reasonable amount of space between us.

Reasonable, meaning, I claim the left side and she claims the right.

I wish she was closer, though. I wish she would lean into my side and rest her head in the crook of my neck. I wish she would drape her arm across my chest, and I wish she would secretly listen to the sound of my heartbeat pounding against my ribcage; an affect of our proximity.

Sadly, I am too nervous to get any closer to her, and the most I have felt her skin on mine all night is when she reached over in the car and took my hand in her own. I am strangely satisfied with that, though I do crave the warmth of her body and the direct feeling of her presence.

"Are you even paying attention to this cinematic brilliance, Zayn?" Carlie asks, catching on to the way I am staring at her.

"Not really, no."

"Stop looking at me," she laughs, almost appearing embarrassed. "It's weird."

"You stare at me like that all the time." I call her out, grinning.

A smirk grows slowly on her face. "I didn't think you took notice of that."

"Of course I did."

She shrugs, looking back in the direction of Titanic playing on my TV. Louis had left the DVD over here ages ago and I had never gotten around to watching it, so Carlie and I have seemingly lucked out.

I force my eyes to the screen, completely uninterested in this movie, even if it is considered a classic. Carlie seems to enjoy it though, by the way her eyes soften whenever Leonardo DiCaprio speaks. Or maybe she is just enjoying the view of the actor. Probably the latter.

"Do you want me to make, uh, popcorn or something?" I offer.

"We just had dinner, Zayn."

"And?"

"Okay. Hurry up, please."

I shake my head at her, getting up to walk to my kitchen. I flick on the lights since my apartment is mainly dark and pull out the bagged popcorn, sticking it in the microwave and waiting impatiently in front of it.

I know Carlie had wanted to watch this movie, but I am more interested in talking to her. I want to know more about her. I always do. And the way she had told me to ask her out on a date made me think I would learn of why she is the way she is. So far, it has been playful conversation. I do not necessarily dislike that, but with a mind like hers, I would much rather listen as she voices her own thoughts.

The microwave beeps and I pull out the now-inflated bag, dumping it into a large bowl and grabbing two water bottles from the fridge. I turn around to be met with Carlie's familiar sea glass eyes and I jump, completely startled. "Jesus Christ, Carlie."

"Sorry." She says dismissively. "I know you're bored with the movie and I know I promised to tell you more about myself, so let's just stay in here."

I blink. "You never really promised anything. You don't owe me any explanation."

"I kind of do," she tucks her hair behind her ear. "I mean, you took me out for dinner at my favorite restaurant and I have been acquainted with you for a month, yet we know practically nothing about each other. Isn't that strange to you?"

I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating what to say. "I wouldn't necessarily say it is strange. The both of us are just...closed books."

She laughs dryly. "Yeah. Closed books."