[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 guy who wants too much risks losing absolutely everything." — Thomas Angelo
HELLO! happy friday! this is literally the longest!! chapter I've ever written in my life. an actual 9000 (yes, NINE THOUSAND!! words). so if y'all could spare a few comments (it took me about three days to write this) it would mean the absolute world to me!
i sincerely hope you enjoy. this chapter is one of my faves in a long time. it's got a lot of stuff in it 👀
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A R I E L L E
So, when Zayn said we were going to a charity ball, naturally I was curious. Who even goes to charity balls? This seems like a thing that the rich do and I've never been wealthy so it seems completely unfamiliar in my world.
I have no fancy fucking dresses, I'm terrified to meet the rest of Zayn's family, I don't think I'm classy enough for this crowd, and I'm just really fucking nervous.
In fact, Zayn warned me that this would be a super formal event. He told me that I had to wear a long dress and that I needed a second dress for later in the evening—a shorter, but still formal dress.
I'd went shopping yesterday with Summer. We found two dresses for the evening that set me back a little over a hundred bucks. I'd managed to get a pretty good fucking deal because there was a sale, otherwise I'd be bitching Zayn out for having me buy something so pricey.
Both dresses are red. Zayn suggested I wear red because it's, "Your colour, Babygirl." So, I chose a form fitting, floor length, strapless red satin dress with a deep v in the bust and a high slit up the left thigh. It was probably fairly sexy for the event, but I couldn't really give a fuck. I've always been a bit on the edge of sexy.
The second dress for later in the night was similar. The hem reached mid-thigh, there was a deep v between the cups, a floral lace decorative piece around the hem, and loose straps that rested off my shoulders.
I pull both dresses out of my suitcase and hang them in the hotel closet. That's another thing, we were in a hotel about three hours away from home, in the city where Zayn's step-father, mother, and sisters live.
Zayn told me a little bit about his step-father. Apparently his parents divorced when he was younger—nothing hostile about it, they just didn't get along anymore—and his mother remarried just shy of two years later. Zayn said his step-father and him didn't get along all that well, but it wasn't as if they fight like cats and dogs.
