Zayn Malik's Long Lost Sister (Unedited)

47. New Way Of Communication

"Are you seriously going to be helping me pick out an outfit to wear for when your girlfriend arrives?" I ask Zayn as his long fingers flip through my clothes I have hung up in the closet.

"She's a fashionista. There's a type she absolutely loves and I want you two to hit it off right away." Zayn explains, pulling off a plain white blouse from the rack.

"And what's her type, really?" I ask, going over to my drawers.

"Like an older stylish hippy kind of look." Zayn says with a shrug. "It looks better than how I just made it out to be."

"Give me an example of how much older and stylish." I say. I place all my jeans, shorts, and skirts on the bed.

"Ever heard of 'Saved by the Bell'?"

"Yeah."

"Ever watched it?"

"Yeah."

"Then like Kelly."

"Oh, that's easy." I say with a smile.

"Is this an old boyfriend shirt?" Zayn asks, holding up a white barely see-through button down shirt with a collar.

"No, it's a woman's shirt." I say, referring to the tag just at the back of the neckline. "My parents used to make me wear that under a blazer. It made me look too sophisticated. I really need to give away most of my clothes."

"No, don't do that. It could be nice if you used it as a regular outfit." Zayn says. "Do you have denim shorts that goes above your belly button?"

"A couple," I say with a shrug, motioning my hand toward a small pile of them on the bed. "I see that shirt with jeans, though."

"I see it with-" His voice stops and when I turn around, he's picking up a pair of comfortably stretchy leather shorts with dark golden designs on the front. "If you use this with the white shirt, it'll match your locket."

"It's weird that you know what you're doing when you're picking out girl outfits." I nod at him and he smiles triumphantly.

"Can you let Perrie know I helped with your outfit? She told me once that I have no taste in proper 90's fashion."

"Course." I chuckle.

"I'll finish up dinner and see what time she'll be over." Zayn says, leaving my room. Just as I was about to close the door after he left, I heard his phone ring with text before he screamed, "SHE'LL BE HERE IN HALF AN HOUR!"

His loud voice caused me to jump a bit, his nervousness making his voice shrill. "Shit," I mutter, clutching my shirt over my chest. "Damn, Zayn! When was the last time you saw her?"

"A week before you arrived." He answered back, already descending the stairs.

"Then play it cool." I closed the door and walked over to my bathroom, deciding on a shower when I began pulling my hair back over my shoulders. I stripped down and cleaned myself in luke warm water, allowing the rushed drops to massage into my skin. Today was abnormally warm, Zayn admitted. Moist dewed up on everyone's skin, even when you were just sitting down. Maybe warm, or maybe just humid.

Which ever it was, it felt amazing to shower it all away. As I finished, I began to hum a soft melody. A song that provided me comfort over a year ago. 'Footprints in the sand' by Leonna Lewis.

As I stepped out of the shower and on to the rug, wrapping a towel around me, I realized that this would be the next song I want to post on YouTube. I walk out of the bathroom, my hair dripping at the tips and soaking into the towel while I set out the clothes I will be wearing. It looked a bit too little. The shorts alone was really short but the combination of the shirt and shorts was nice.