New York State of Mind | zm au

Zayn

The coffee maker made intense bubbling noises as it brewed my morning drink. Somehow, I managed to sleep until nine o'clock. I hardly sleep four hours a night so it was a nice treat to get nine hours.

I want to make cookies.

I haven't an explanation for my sudden lust towards baking. I just want to smell something sweet and taste sugar on my lips.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and examine the fridge for all the supplies I need.

A knock at the door makes me close the fridge and saunter across the cold, tiled kitchen floor.

I unlatch the deadbolt and swing the door open.

"Good morning." Apartment 77A guy stands a mere foot away from me, a clear grin on his face.

"What are you up to?" He peers around me, into the kitchen where I have a mess shrewd out on the countertops.

"I feel like making cookies." I stat, taking a small sip of coffee.

"Ooh! Christmas cookies? I never used to celebrate Christmas until moving out here by myself." He says.

"You don't celebrate it with your family?" I ask.

"Nah, they're not too big on Christmas."

"Oh."

"If you haven't caught on by now, I'm trying to hint that I want to come in and make cookies with you." Zayn whispers. I widen my eyes and form my lips into an 'O' shape.

I shift my shoulder backwards and swing open like a door. Apartment 77A guy walks in and takes off his boots.

"I was just getting the ingredients out, I haven't started anything." I say, setting my empty coffee cup in the sink.

"Good. I wouldn't want to be left out." He smiles at me and his eyes twinkle.

Minutes later, we're both deep in conversation while forming little spheres out of cookie dough.

"So you just left? With half of your hair blonde?" I can't help but laugh at his ridiculous story.

"I didn't her to make it worse, so I just dealt with it until it grew out." Breathily, he explains.

I put the tray in the oven and we sit on the couch and talk until the timer dings.

"Frosting?" He questions while I pull the tray out.

"Left cupboard."

He pulls out red and green frosting and opens each container. I get a knife out of a drawer and hand one to him. I put a green 'T' on mine, my first initial.

He puts a 'Z' on his, copying mine.

"Tara?" He asks. I shake my head.

"Tessa." I say. He nods lightly.

"Zachary?" I ask him. He shakes his head.

"It's Zayn." He says. It's a fitting name, mysterious and powerful. It fits him like a glove.

"Nice to meet you, Zayn."

"Likewise, Tessa."

5/10