New York State of Mind | zm au

Broken

"You aren't ticklish are you?" Zayn raises an eyebrow. The movie playing on my television seems unimportant now.

I play it cool, "No, of course not." I return my attention to the TV. The warmth radiating off his body is too great for me to ignore. The small couch doesn't allow us any space of our own. Our thighs touch, sending fire through my veins and chills through my bones.

"Are you sure?" He asks, cracking his knuckles.

"Absolutely positively not ticklish." I turn my head and make eye contact with him. His chocolate brown eyes overpower my dull grey ones. He sees through my lie. I flee the couch, locking myself in the bathroom in a matter of seconds, shutting the door right on him. My laughter can't be contained.

"You'll have to come out eventually, and I'll be waiting. Right here." I get down on my hands and knees and peer under the doorframe. I see his boots.

"Is that a challenge?" I question, standing up and moving over to sit on top of the toilet.

"I think it is." His voice is muffled through the door, but I can't still sense the playfulness in his voice. If I told him not to, he probably wouldn't. But I can't resist a tickle match.

Seconds, minutes, and maybe even an hour ticks by before I hear his boots thump across the floor. Maybe he's giving up.

Foolishly, I unlock the door. It clicks open and I slowly turn the door knob. I step out.

A battle cry rings through the air. I try to retreat to the bathroom, but since he was hiding behind the door he closes it with the palm of his hand.

I dash into the kitchen, using the counter to separate us. I make a move to go one way, he makes a counter move. I see a little boy in front of me, not at all the mysterious neighbor I had come to know. His smile could end wars and cure cancer.

But, in a way, I sense that he's all mine.

When he attempts to go over the counter, that's when I make a mad dash.

He must not know how strong he is, or how petite I am, because when he makes contact with me, I go barreling forward. Straight into a chair and my wooden guitar. A bone-chilling crack is all to be heard. He's frozen. I'm frozen.

Slowly, I lift myself off the chair and observe what I've done.

"Tessa..." I pick up what's left of my guitar. The neck is split in two places and there's a hole in the back. That's all I had left to connect me with my parents. My dad gave me that guitar when I was eight. I carried it from foster house to foster house. And now, it's destroyed.

"You must know I didn't mean to..." He places his hand on my shoulder, but I shrink away from it. I drop the remnants of my normal life on the chair, where they'll sit until I'm brave enough to get rid of them.

With tears in my eyes, I turn and walk across the floor to the door. I open it and look expectantly at Zayn. I can see his heart shatter in his eyes. We were just fooling around, and now I'm telling him to leave.

He's broken more than my guitar today. But my heart as well.

7/10