Forever Intertwined (A Zayn Malik Fan Fiction)

Chapter 8

“Want some more?” Zayn asks me. We spent the day together, him taking me sightseeing. We took a ride on the London Eye and had the best time ever. At about 4 in the afternoon, we decided to go back to his place. On the way there, we stopped at a place selling fish and chips and he bought some.

 “No. Why aren’t you eating any?” I ask.

 “I’m not hungry.” he says.

 “Then why did you buy it?” I asked, confused.

“Because. You looked like you wanted it.” he says.

“Are we there yet?” We have been alternating between cabs and walking all day, and my feet are aching. I really wish I didn’t wear heels today.

“You could have told me that earlier.” He says, and of course I must have mentioned it out loud.

“It’s no big deal.” I say.

“Uh huh.” He says, not believing me for a second. He stops and bends down in front of me. “Get on.” He says. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up. Piggy back ride, yay! After a few minutes my eyes start to close, and the next thing I know I’m waking up on a bed in a room that isn’t mine.

I start to panic and start feeling around, hoping I still have my clothes on. Luckily I do, and I start to relax a little. I look around and realize I’m in Zayn’s room. The sheets smell like him, so I lay back down and enjoy them. After awhile, I figure I better go find Zayn.

I walk out into the hall, and follow the smell of food straight to the kitchen. Zayn stands at the stove, stirring something in a pot. I quietly walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Hey. You’re awake.” He says, smiling.

“Yeah. How long was I out for?” I asked.

“Ummm. Almost 6 hours?” he says.

“Really!?” I say.

“No babe, it’s only been about 2.” He says, smirking.

“Don’t mess with me like that.” I say, playfully smacking him in the head.

“Hey. Don’t touch the hair.” he says, which of course makes me want to do it again. So this time, when my hand is 2 inches from his head, he grabs me by the wrist.

“No.” he replies, trying to be serious. I take my free hand and just when I’m about to make contact with his head, he grabs that wrist too.

“No.” he says again, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead. He then kisses my nose, then skips my lips and kisses right underneath my chin, then makes his way to the base of my throat, trailing tiny kisses as he goes along. He kisses my collar bone, lets go of me, and then turns back to the stove to continue stirring.

I miss his warm soft lips on my neck immediately. I wish he hadn’t stopped, but at the same time I’m glad he did, because I was really getting turned on. This may be a good time to mention The Pact.

In 6th grade, Liz and I made a pact to stay virgins until marriage. As time wore on, we changed the pact to stay virgins until we were 300% certain we were in love, and that the person loved us back. Then, we changed it again, to lose it only when we think we have found the One, and as long as we consult with each other first. We’ve both had boyfriends; maybe 8 or 9 altogether, and even though most of these relationships lasted for long periods of time, we stayed virgins. It was hard, but we thought of our bodies as roses, and with every guy you slept with, you gave them a petal. When you finally found The One, you wouldn’t have any more petals to give. So we figured we would wait till we found The One, and give all our petals to that one person.