Chapter Text
H,
The door to my flower shop swung wide, with the bell indicating someone was in. It was five minutes past closing time, I had already pulled down the blinds, turned the sign, and was cleaning up before I went home.
I froze as Mitch wandered into my shop, looking at the flowers and smelling them. My friend walked to my counter, hopped on, and pushed his designer sunglasses to his long hair.
"We need to talk."
Mitch has been my friend, and neighbor, for many years now and it was the first time I was seeing him this serious and resolute.
"Nice to see you too, Mitch."
"Harry..."
"Yes?"
"You need someone." He explained. "A relationship."
My mouth fell open in shock and awe. I have been single for a whopping five years now and I have been fine. I have a flower shop, and a flat in the city, I am in attractive shape - I do not need a relationship!
"Okay..."
"I love you, mate. But...Sometimes Sarah and I want to spend time alone...together...as a couple..." Mitch explained softly. I squinted at him, finding this line of conversation odd. "And you're always...around."
"Around?"
"Yes. Around." Mitch repeated. "We want to go to dinner by ourselves or travel as a couple or...I don't know, fucking go to the movies just the two of us. We don't need to do everything together: the three of us."
"But we're friends."
"Yes, but she's my wife," Mitch explained with a sigh. "And you're a grown man who needs someone...who is not...us."
I leaned on my broom, looking at my friend. He had a point, though.
"Well, that's a lovely way to end a Friday."
"Harry, come on now-"
"I don't know whether to be offended. Or hurt. Or both."
"You know I'm right."
"You're forcing me to be in a relationship so you and Sarah could have some alone time. You can always say no to me, you know?"
"And deal with you pouting for a month-"
I took offense to their comment.
"I do not pout!"
"We went to dinner just the two of us last month at that new sushi place by the river, we didn't tell you and you did not respond to my calls! This is the first time I'm seeing you, Harry!" Mitch argued. "You pout. And you pout hard!"
I walked to my friend, standing next to him at my counter.
I knew Mitch was right. I have been single for a while now.
You see I had been going through a period of self-discovery.
Before that, I had been in a relationship with a lovely lady, named Taylor. We knew each other since we were young, grew up together, and were each other's first. I knew her family. She knew mine. In the perfect world, we were set for life, you know? However, as the years rolled by, what was once the perfect love story, turned out to be...a lie.
I felt I was living a lie and being untrue, unfair, and not matching what she wanted from me. We both wanted the same: a partner, marriage, and kids. That was never an argument. However, no matter how much I tried, I just...felt something was missing. I did enjoy her company, Taylor made me feel good about myself and we had a good relationship together. She had a nice smile, a great personality, was super smart, and was witty. The sex was great, but...I wasn't complete. I was battling internally. The conversation about our future got more serious with our parents, lowkey pressuring us into marriage and hinting about our future together - I began fleeting and avoiding the topic. I was sure about marriage; I just wasn't sure about it with Taylor.
I had a lot of questions and doubts about myself as a person. Nothing related to her - she was amazing.
I asked for some time as I thought things through - was I getting cold feet? Was I nervous about settling down and becoming an adult? I chucked it to all those things and something more, but I needed time to search within myself.
In the meantime, while we were separated, I ended up having a short-lived affair with a man.
I've always had some sort of an inclination - and I hate that word, mind you. Growing up I always found all genders incredibly beautiful. I never really had a type. A nice smile is a nice smile, whether it be on a man or a woman, and there are dickheads on both sides. Men can have nice asses. And women can be just as strong too. But, when it came to the truth of it, I only knew Taylor.
To make a long introduction less long, after that one affair figured that I never liked labels. I thought they were the death of personality: putting someone in a box kills the spirit. People should be free to be whoever they want to be.
After some time of self-discovery and the end of that short-lived affair, I came out to Taylor first - she deserved that honour. Taylor didn't hate me at all and welcomed me - a few months later, she would find her slice too in a lovely young man. I did the same to family and friends, who were surprised I was well into my 20s, almost 30s when I began to truly accept my escape from the societal box. In the end, I was welcomed. Understood.
After ending things with Taylor, and a few escapades, I was left roaming in search of someone special. Anyone. I was true and honest now with myself - I could finally live my truth.
I kept looking. The pool of search had widened now: men and women, at my disposal. I could find my slice on either side. Some might say I was trying too hard and being too eager. Keep it casual. Don't look for love, it will find you...All that bullshit.
I just wanted to feel that...rawness that I knew I could feel in the moment but extend into something serious. Find someone special to have a life with. Someone lovely.
I am a traditional lad, despite wearing the colours of the rainbow family with pride. If I am with someone I am with someone and I want the entire thing: a life partner, a house, children, marriage. I want it all. I am predictable, I guess. And I have been searching for my one and only - no matter where they might fall on the spectrum of the identity of self.
However, ever since accepting myself and opening my search, I haven't been lucky. I don't know why...I haven't clicked with anyone. I've had my share of casual dates and one nightstand; it hasn't been a dry spell for me but...
I crave to have someone at my side. I crave to have someone to warm my feet at night or to touch my hair or cuddle at night, instead of me holding my giant pillow. I crave...someone. I am too obvious with my objective and that can be a turnoff. At least, I'm honest!
So, for the past five years, I have been single, and I have been living vicariously through Mitch and Sarah's, and other friends, relationships. I'm imprinting on them and wanting to have a little bit of their love for me until I find the other slice of my watermelon.
Cheesy, I know.
I am a romantic. I like walks on the beach, big romantic gestures, and kisses on the hand. Long stares, sweet words, and flowers on lazy Sundays. I am a cliché! And bloody hell...I deserve and have the right to feel butterflies flapping about in my stomach, no?
So, even though Mitch was right in his request, I was not going to be the one to admit that I indeed...needed someone. The last thing I needed was for my friend to act like a cupid.
"Harry?"
I snapped back to my reality focusing on Mitch next to me.
"Hm?"
"You're pouting."
"I'm not."
"Listen, we don't mean any harm, darling," Mitch responded with a softness in his voice that I had never heard before. "We know you have been on your journey, but I know you. Your...clinginess, means you're craving for something..."
"Mitch, I am fine. I do not need anyone."
Fucking hell, I'm such a fucking liar-
"My God, you're such a fucking liar."
"I'm not lying!" I argued with all my cells. "I am fine. I'm just cruising."
"You're not a boat."
"Hilarious."
"Look...I know this lad. He's single too. Might be interesting-"
"No, no, no...Fucking the fuck nope." I responded, standing from the counter, with my broom in hand. "You have a rotten finger to choose people."
Mitch cocked his head to the side following me with his eyes.
"Fuck you, no I don't."
"You do!" I argued, going behind the counter to grab two glasses and a bottle of tequila. "That redhead that believed the entire Royal Family was made out of lizard people?"
"She was quirky."
"The dude who collected crystalized bugs for a living?"
"It's a healthy hobby."
"The pornstar?"
"Escort."
"The woman with green hair, who grabbed my hand and predicted the end of the world?"
Mitch shrugged. "Not all psychics are good, and the world can end any minute now."
"She had crystals around her neck, the woman jiggled as she walked!" I retorted. Mitch shrugged again, completely unbothered by my criticism. I placed the two glasses on my counter, pouring the drinks for the two of us. "Look, I am fine. I don't need a relationship. I am just...living life."
"While drinking tequila at 06h00pm."
"The closed sign is up."
"See if you had someone waiting for you, you'd be home already and not acting like a singleton in Juarez."
"You're despicable sometimes. I don't know why Sarah married you."
"I don't either."
We clink our glasses and sipped the lemon-flavoured tequila. It sent a shiver down my spine and tickled my tongue.
"Okay, I overreacted by not talking to you because of the restaurant. I felt left out."
"You will never be left out - it's impossible, Harry. We live in the same building. Just...find someone who can...keep you company. I'd hate for you to be the Joey to my Chandler." Mitch reached for a Post-it next to the register, scribbled a name and a number, and then glued it to my forehead with a slap. "His name is Zayn. He's a DJ at the bar-"
I removed the yellow Post-it and looked at the number.
"A DJ? No."
"Give him a shot, he's a good lad," Mitch suggested, walking away from the counter. "He's off tonight. Give him a call and go out for some drinks. I told him I'd give you his number and that you'd call tonight-"
"You what-?"
"It's not weird. I have his consent."
"Mitch, I'm not doing this-"
"I have a good feeling about this. The sixth time is the charm - as they say."
I looked at the Post-it and scrunched my nose. Zayn. Zayn? Really?
"I'm not texting him."
"You are. You know why?" Mitch asked, walking backwards out of my flower shop, and putting the glasses on his face. "Because you hate to miss opportunities. And this could be your one. You'll only know if you take him out for a drink."
"Mitch-"
"One drink."
"He's a DJ!"
My friend shot the number one at me, then left my shop slamming the door behind him. I was left looking at the Post-it with a scribbled number.
Mitch was right: I hated the thought that I could've potentially lost the opportunity for something good. I'd rather be disappointed, than regret not taking this or that action. Could he be right? That this...DJ Zayn Malik, could be my slice.
But he's a DJ! They live for the nightlife. They're casual and want to have fun, drink, and roam around. I've never met a DJ in a solid relationship, and I am yet to find one who wants to. It doesn't fit the profession.
Right? Or was I prejudiced?
"Hey, who was that?" Maria asked, coming into the shop from the back. I owned the shop, but Maria was with me from the beginning. I'd go to her whenever I had questions or was unsure about something. I trusted her completely and saw her as my right hand to make the best decisions for the shop, and myself; as well as my conscious when things got too complicated.
"Mitch." I relayed looking at the yellow post glued to my fingers. "Came here to tell me off. Says I need a relationship."
"Huh..." Maria took off her green apron, leaving it hanging on the wall behind the counter. Her big and wild curls bobbed around her face as she walked towards me. "Well..."
"Don't tell me you agree?"
"Well..."
"Jesus Christ. It's a Friday. Did both of you agree to annoy me?"
"It's not annoying you. It's an...honest opinion, Harry. Whenever I have something with John you insist on tagging along."
I frowned at Maria.
"You're divorcing him!"
"Hey!" She snapped at me, with a pointed finger. "We're separated. Not divorced. And he will come home soon."
"I saw him with his girlfriend. He seemed incredibly happy."
"I'm a 40-year-old woman, Harry. John is almost 50. Do you honestly believe he can keep up with a 25-year-old? He's going through a ridiculous crisis, that's why he cut his hair and started going to the gym, but you know what...it's all fun and games until she wants to go out with friends and do all the cool things 25-year-olds want to do but can't because of an old man with bad knees. I'm all for female liberation, what I don't like is grown-ass men making a fool of themselves."
"So, you love him still, then."
"Oh, please..." Maria shrugged, avoiding my question. "At this point, he's dying to have me back, I'm not even bothered by it. I go on dates; I have dinner with friends when out dancing yesterday and he knows...he knows and he's salty about it. John expected me to crumble and crawl begging him back, but I didn't.'
'So, he feels the need to appear extra happy with his pretty bunny, to prove a point, you know? If he were happy and unbothered, he wouldn't be lurking on my social media or asking about me. When he's done, and understands he needs to act his age, he'll crawl back to me because I'm the only one who has the patience."
"And you'll take him back."
Maria snorted. "I like the idea of him being obsessed with me. Men are ridiculous like that."
'All of this to say that yes, you need someone."
I showed her the yellow Post-it note.
"He's a DJ, Maria."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't know..." I looked at his name scribbled on the note. "I'm unsure."
"How about we find out?" Maria moved fast; with one hand she grabbed my phone before I could take it from her reach, and with the other she grabbed the Post-it off my fingers. "Pretty name. Zayn. I like it. Very...international."
"What are you going to say?"
"Nothing damaging, glikie mou." Maria let out with her Greek accent poking through. "Just a text."
She typed quickly - faster than I expected and sent it. Then, she planted the phone on the counter for me to read:
Me: Hi. It's Harry.
Got your number from Mitch.
Want to go out for a pint?"
I snorted.
"That does not sound like me."
"But he doesn't know that now does he? Besides, he doesn't need an introductory poem and two soliloquies, just a request." Maria moved away from the phone, grabbing her coat. "I have to go now-"
"What? You're leaving me with this?"
"Well, you're the one that needs someone. Not me. I gotta get home to watch a good old crime doc." Maria explained releasing her curls from the collar. "There's this juicy one about a woman who murdered the husband, the lover and then fed them to the dogs. So fascinating."
"Please, don't get ideas from that."
Maria cackled as she walked out of the shop, and I was left unsure if she was laughing because it was a nonsensical request or because it was an evil plan she had brewing already.
The seconds ticked as I watched my message stay unread and without response. Would he respond at all? Was I too eager? He didn't care for this at all. I bit my nails as I watched the minutes roll by and no change in the message.
In the end, I gave up. He wasn't going to answer. I turned the phone off, flipped the screen and prepared to go home.
I finished sweeping and wiping down the counter. Lowered the AC so the flowers were kept cool. Moved the money to the safe and prepared to lock up for the night. We would open again on Saturday an hour later and stay open until lunchtime.
I loved my flower shop. It was a little store, placed in a corner of London's art and culture district. One couldn't miss it. It was called 'Harry's Garden' - even though the name was quite simple, I loved it because it was a literal garden. Painted in this vivid yellow, with green lettering on the sign above the door and purple flowers. My shop had glass windows with frames painted green. It was full of indirect light during the morning and in the afternoon it basked in the orange sunset glow that crept in through the buildings - that's when it was the prettiest. I always had music playing in the background as I believed the plants and flowers would enjoy it.
On the outside, I had two yellow metal structures with the flowers of the season looking perfect. I also had moulded flowered vines that came up the sides of the shop and poured down over the sign in bright colours of pink and purple; it was normal for me to see tourists or passers-by taking pictures at the entrance. Usually, they would come in, saying they saw the outside and felt the urge to enter - usually, they would always leave with a plant or a bouquet. In the summer months, I would extend the green awning with the lettering in yellow and add four small tables with two chairs each, for those wishing to try Maria's lemonade and homemade biscuits.
Inside the store, there were two rows, on the left and right side, with beautiful flowers full of bright strong colours, green plants of varied sizes, cacti, and small pieces of art that Maria loved to make. In a small square in the middle of the store, we had tall baby trees ready for planting; from lemons to apples, strawberries, to oranges... The store always smelled fresh, sweet, and enticing. Behind the counter, I had seeds for peppers, baby tomatoes, red fruits, and others.
The store did amazing, especially on themed days like Mother's Day or Valentine's Day. We had a good dose of flower arrangements for birthdays, births and casual customers wanting to ramp up their home gardens. I loved doing my job and on days like this, I didn't even feel tired.
I was already planning my evening when the phone rang. Without thinking - the unanswered text had already left my mind - I answered:
"Hello?"
"Yo. Hi." The voice let out. "It's me."
I stopped in the middle of my quiet and empty store.
"Who's this?"
He chuckled.
"It's me. Zayn." He said his name with a heavy pronunciation. I couldn't quite figure out where from, but he wasn't a Londoner. Neither was I. It takes one to know one. "You texted me."
"Oh! Right. Right. I did, yes."
"Sorry for the late reply. I just left the studio." He answered. "Listen, I'm about to go home, change clothes, shower, and look like a decent human. You still want to meet for that pint?"
He seemed so nonchalant and so...open about it. This wasn't his first date or set-up. I was the rookie here.
"Yeah, if that's okay with you."
"Yeah, it's fine. It's Friday. I'd hate to be indoors." He responded. "I'm getting an Uber. I'll meet you at the...hmm...let me see...how about at the docs?"
The docs was a bustling night place. It had restaurants, bars, and clubs and it was common to see people of a certain higher class there, women in heels and men in blazers. No youngsters in jeans and trainers. It was for an older crowd. I wondered how old he was.
"Sure. Any bar in particular?"
"Oh, I'm a regular at Vinnie's. You know? It's the one right at the end of the docs, it has some music, but people can talk and hang out. There's a wonderful outside area too and it's such a cool night. What do you say?"
He seemed resolved. Willing to act and suggest things. I figured if nothing came out of it, at least I got to have a drink at this fancy place I never got to go before.
"Sounds amazing."
"All right. One hour."
"Wait!"
"Yeah?"
"I...I don't even know...what you look like."
He chuckled a little and I found it charming.
"Fair. I'll send you a pic. You send me yours, yeah?" He asked. "Make it a decent one, though. Too early for nudes and all that. See you. Bye."
And he ended the call leaving me without an answer.
In less than a five-minute conversation, I was scheduled to be on a date, with a random bloke, in a place I'd never been before.
The photo came with a ping and my eyes nearly bulged out of my skull.
I had seen pretty men.
I had seen handsome men.
I had never seen a man like Zayn. His beauty was...unique. I wasn't sure how old this picture was, but it was in black in white. He was sitting in the sun, with sunglasses from a designer brand. Short dark hair, with a manly beard, adorned his face. He seemed serious. Frowning.
I was for the lack of a better word, impressed. I didn't know what to expect, but I wasn't expecting that.
I drove home, got to my flat and began the hazardous task of finding something to wear for this impromptu date. Vinnie's was a classy place. It demanded a blazer and chinos or some dark jeans, at least with some cool shoes. Should I wear my hair up in a bun or leave the wild curls to do whatever they wanted to do?
It's not like I didn't have too many dates. As I said before, I've been searching for my other slice of watermelon, but it has been a struggle. It's scary out here when one's single and, even though I believe this was the year to venture and take risks...people were still crazy!
In the end, I opted for a casual style: a baby blue shirt, with dark jeans and a dark blazer. The hair...well, I tried to tame it, but in the end, I decided to let my long brown lazy curls fall down my shoulders. I added a few silver rings to my fingers, nothing too over the top and a couple of silver chains that fell my open shirt. Looking in the full-body mirror I think I look good.
"What do you think?" I asked my dog. I had a brown Labrador named Stomper and his favourite place was my bed. I had gotten him about two years ago and he still saw himself as a big puppy. "Yes or no?"
He barked at me and then tossed his tongue out.
"Helpful," I responded. "Off the bed." Stomper barked at me, unmoving and cosied himself more on my comforter. "Stomp."
He barked again and I stepped closer, making him jump off. Trotting away, Stomper found his place in his big bed by my door - but I knew the moment I left the bedroom he'd find his spot in my bed again. I looked at my big mirror, fixed myself again and prepared to spray my Tom Ford perfume.
There. I think I looked...presentable. I smirked at myself in the mirror.
"You look nice, Harry. Why thank you, Harry - so kind of you. You're welcome, Harry." I winked at myself in the mirror and immediately cringed. "Ugh. Idiot."
****
I drove to the docs, in hopes that I could find a parking spot that was close enough on a Friday night - I was lucky. Inside the car, I took one final gander at myself checking my face, my breath, and my hair. When I was satisfied with my look, I walked out of the car.
As I figured, the people in the area were a bit older than me but were having just as much fun. On my left, the river sloshed lazily separating London in two. On my right brown buildings looking like beach houses with dark wood composed the docs - each one hosting a bar or a restaurant. Vinnie's was the last one on the sidewalk and I could see it was already in full swing. I stopped by the door unsure if I should get inside or not.
My phone vibrated with a text from Zayn:
Zayn: I'll be there in about five minutes.
Grab a table. I made a reservation.
I was impressed. He had gotten us a table. So, I walked over to the entrance, heading to the young woman who welcomed the patrons.
"Evening. I'm meeting someone. I believe the reservation is made under Zayn?"
The woman looked at her iPad, smiled and responded "Certainly. Follow me."
We entered Vinnie's and I was in awe of the space. With a tall ceiling and a second floor, Vinnie's was a fancy place. It had a DJ at the back of the room playing some lounge music, with a small crowd on the dancefloor enjoying his songs. The rest of the patrons sat in comfortable chairs talking and mingling. The host indicated my table, a discrete corner with a full view of the entrance. I sat down and she asked me if I wanted something to drink; I answered saying I'd love a gin and tonic. Then, proceeded the agonizing waiting game.
I was never a fan of this part: the uncertainty of whether the person was going to show or not. If they were about to dump me on a last-minute thing. I couldn't keep my knee from trembling under the table but kept from biting my nails.
My eyes scanned the room, seeing people mingling and having fun on a typical Friday night. It was still early, and Vinnie's had a lot of free space. It wouldn't pick up until 11h00pm when they would change DJs and amp up the type of music.
At the bar, the bartenders made amazing cocktails with vibrant colours. The DJ switched songs with something with a little more bass to it, making me bop my head and relax to the music. I caught a few curious glances from a few women, and I looked back - most of them were older, which even though they were lovely, were not my target.
"Hey."
I looked to my right, and he was just standing there. He was even more beautiful in person and yes that was an older photo: Zayn wore a dark turtleneck shirt, with a dark blazer and dark jeans. He had a head full of hair, styled beautifully and looking luscious, with a perfectly trimmed beard connecting around his lips, chin, and jawline. He looked like a prince and for a moment I lost my footing.
"Hi."
Should we hug? Shake hands? In my nervousness, I remained seated, wiping my hands on my trousers. Zayn pulled a chair and sat across from me. He looked around the room, unbuttoning his blazer.
"Huh...this guy is playing today..."
I looked at the DJ. I had no idea who he was.
"You know him?"
"Yeah," Zayn responded with a smug smile, looking back at me. "He thinks he's a better DJ than me, but in reality, he's just playing that Lo-Fi Girl on YouTube."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Oh?"
Zayn chuckled "I'm joking. He's a good DJ. An impressive set."
"I see."
Zayn fixed his suit, pulling the chair forward and resting his elbows on the table.
"So, Harry, you got my number-"
"Well, Mitch gave me your number."
"He thought we could be a match."
I was going to kill Mitch.
"I guess so," I responded. "He's made it his life mission to find me a match."
"Why?"
"Oh, he thinks I'm annoying and clingy."
"So, the solution is to get you in a relationship?"
"Exactly that," I explained, and I saw his smile again. "I'm sorry he made you agree to this. I know it's...awkward."
"It's fine, truly." He responded. "Mitch's second job is to play cupid. It was a matter of time until he reached me. And he has told me that I should settle down, but I'm not into it."
"Why not?"
"There's time."
"What if you die tomorrow?"
"What if I don't?" Zayn answered. "Besides, having someone at my side won't keep me from dying."
"Yeah, but you'll have a good time with someone until your dying day."
"Are you wishing for my death, Harry?"
He said my name and I shivered. I've heard my name many times but said like that and by a man like him...it sounded different. As if he had added more syllables.
"Never."
Zayn stared back at me for a while. I felt his eyes scan me up and down, seeing right through me. I felt naked under his sweet dark stare. Zayn sat back on his chair, with a lingering smirk on his lips, just taking in my measures.
"So, you work with Mitch, then?"
"Yes, at the Box," Zayn added. "Resident DJ. There's only me."
"What an honour."
"Please, no autographs." He teased. "I've known Mitch for a couple of years and he's a great lad."
"Yeah, we're neighbours," I added. "He's a good friend."
"Mitch said you're a florist?" Zayn asked and I nodded. "What's that like?"
"Pretty," I answered. "I love it. Wouldn't trade it for the world."
Zayn kept silent for an extra second, just watching me. I discovered he had the talent to smile with his eyes, even when his lips rested.
"Can I be honest?" He asked and I encouraged him. "I never met a florist who 1) was a man and 2) was a man that looked like you."
My face grow hot, but I held firm facing his compliment.
"Thank you, I suppose."
Zayn's eyes wandered around the room, people-watching. His tattooed hand, with the word LOVE on his knuckles, touched his beard, smoothing it. He was thinking about something, and I did not want to interrupt his train of thought.
Then, Zayn stared at me. The white beam of light that danced above our heads fell over on him momentarily, taking my breath away.
"What are you looking for, Harry?"
"What do you mean?"
"With this," Zayn asked. "Us. Having this pint. What are you looking for?"
"To have fun..."
The server came back and placed my gin and tonic in front of me. Zayn arched his eyebrow at my glass.
"That is a fun drink, but you're not looking for fun," Zayn responded. "Come on. Be honest. I believe in telling your intention on a first date to make sure the two parties are on the same page. Avoids confusion and stress."
I grabbed my gin and took a sip, feeling the cool liquid come down my throat. I placed my glass back, feeling Zayn's stare at me.
Hell, he's right - at least, we could be honest with one another.
"I'm looking for a relationship," I confessed to myself and him. "Someone special. Who wants to be with me in the long haul? I am tired of the dating scene, it's...scary out here. I am a homebody and want to be with someone for the long haul."
"Marriage. Kids. Cute house."
"And a dog."
"And a dog!" Zayn repeated with a smile. He nodded at me with an impressed look. "Been single for a long time?"
"A while," I added. "Not crazy about it."
"Hm..."
"I want to be in love, and I want a relationship full of love. I'm a hopeless romantic. And I am looking for my slice."
"Your slice?"
"Of watermelon."
"Odd fruit to choose for a metaphor."
I shrugged. "I quite like watermelons."
"I see," Zayn answered. "Harry is looking for his slice of watermelon."
"Yes," I responded. I noticed his stare and lingering smirk. "You?"
"Me?"
"Yes. Are you looking for a long-term thing?"
Zayn leaned forward towards me, and I felt the soft scent of his perfume. It reminded me of roasted oranges and cinnamon. It was intense, and rich, and made me think of vibrant colours like yellow, orange and red.
"No," Zayn confessed. My balloon deflated before it could take off. "I'm not looking for anything long-term. I don't...do relationships."
"You don't?"
"I don't. Not made for it. Haven't had a boyfriend since my early 20's. Not for me."
"Why?"
"The pool of search is too wide..." He commented. A man walked by our table and Zayn looked at him, admiring his walk shortly, but then returned his honey eyes to me. I was melting already. "Rather than misbehaving and hurting someone else, I just...do whatever I have to do."
"So, you're not in a relationship...man."
"I was in the past. Had a boyfriend long-term way back when. It ended because it had to." I noticed, how his eyes veered down, as if it was a sensitive topic. When he looked back at me, he seemed resolved. "Since then, I decided...I am not the relationship type. I just...live life one bed at a time, I suppose."
"Does that make you happy, Zayn?"
"Doesn't make me happy or sad. It's life."
"Doesn't the prospect of living your life alone scare you?"
"We're all alone in the end," Zayn responded softly. "You can't take people with you when it's your time. Each person has their road and their destination. Even if you die together, you won't be in the same place together."
"That's...dire."
Zayn smiled at me, and I wanted him to smile forever.
"It's harsh, I know, but...It's just my philosophy. I'm a fun and cheerful lad, I promise. I just...don't do relationships."
"So...what do you do?"
"I fuck." He answered with honesty, and I was shocked by it. Before I had time to respond, Zayn kept on. "Listen, Harry, you're a lovely bloke. I feel you can make someone genuinely happy one day. Just not me."
I felt destroyed inside as if what I wanted was wrong.
"You're just going to bail on me?"
"We don't match, Harry. You want a boyfriend and a future husband. I'm not boyfriend material today nor husband tomorrow - nor ever." Zayn shrugged at me. "Do stay. I paid for your drink already. I'll tell Mitch we had a lovely time, but we didn't work."
And he got up from the table buttoning his blazer again. I don't know why, but I stood up as well. Zayn watched me with curiosity, and I blurted out the first words that came out of my lips.
"That's unfair."
"What is?"
"You didn't give me a chance, Zayn."
"We don't want the same thing, Harry. I'm being honest and true. I hate to lead people on."
"You don't know me."
"I do. You just told me: husband, house, kids, and a cute dog. I don't want any of that nor will I give you that. I'm saving you the trouble and tossing you out into the ocean so you can find your lobster - which is a better metaphor than watermelon. Take care. It was lovely to meet you." Zayn turned to walk away from me, and I held his arm. He looked back at my hand in his arm and then at my eyes with furrowed brows. "You're not one of the crazy ones, are you Harry?"
"Fine," I said. "Let's do it."
"Do what?"
"Fuck."
Zayn's eyes went big in surprise and shock. "I have a feeling you're not the one-night stand type of lad."
"I've had my share. I'm not an idiot."
Carefully, Zayn removed my hand from his arm. He was always polite and kind, even when dismissing me. Now, I wanted to prove myself to him more than ever.
"You don't want that, Harry. You want a relationship-"
"What, you're afraid you'll fall in love with me?"
My remark shut him up for good and I saw a glimmer in his eyes, taking on my challenge. The white light floating above our heads fell on us for a moment. It was just us.
A server walked by, and Zayn called her attention.
"Coke and rum." The girl quietly nodded and walked away. Zayn kept looking at me with a hint of curiosity and interest. His eyes wandered up and down; I felt on fire under his gaze. "You want this?"
"I do." I let out. "You're not husband material, but I can at least get one off since we're being honest. Bit of a dry spell for me."
"How long?"
"Six weeks. You?"
"Seven days."
"You're really out there."
He shrugged. "If you're going to judge my lifestyle-"
"Far from it," I added. "We want different things; doesn't mean we can't have fun. We're both adults."
"And you want to fuck."
"And I want to fuck."
"And you're not going to bail on me at the last minute, Harry? Because even though you can and I'm all for informed consent...I hate having blue balls."
"I won't bail."
A smirk appeared again on his lips. Zayn unbuttoned his blazer and sat down. The tattooed hand covered his smile, smoothing his beard as he looked around the room. While he was distracted, I grabbed my tonic - I had some one-night stands in my time, meaningless things that I barely cared for. Never had I had one with someone like Zayn: mysterious, sexy, and deadly gorgeous.
And honestly, the relationship thing was not even the thing right now. Simply good old fun. I should let my hair down and enjoy it. Zayn was so enjoyable.
His eyes met mine again and I gulped. Bloody hell he looked sexy sitting across from me. It was my turn to scan his figure with my eyes: he was lean, well built, tattoos peaking for under his collar, and wrists and visible on both of his hands. I wondered where else he had ink.
We didn't say a word. We just sat and enjoyed the music as it played around us. Zayn sat back in his chair, with one arm draped back and another carefully resting on the table. His fingers tapped on the dark word, as the mandala on the back of his hand waved with the motion.
I looked at him reading the intention behind his stare. He was thinking about it and was tempted by my proposal and honestly...
I hoped he'd accept it.
The server returned, placing his rum and coke at his side.
"Thank you," Zayn took a sip of it and then placed the glass back. "Well, it's only fair we get to know each other a little before we see each other in a compromising pose..." I gulped feeling my mouth dry. "Tell me about yourself then..."
I did most of the talking while Zayn asked poignant questions. I talked about my flower shop and how I worked there with Maria. I told him how I met Mitch and Sarah and we tried to put a band together but failed at the project. I told him how I lived alone in London, with a flat near my shop and had a dog named Stomper-
"He already has the dog..." Zayn teased with a smirk. "Only thing missing is the husband, house and kids."
"Why are you so averse to relationships then?"
"I'm not. It's just...not my thing." He responded with honesty. "Do continue."
"No," I responded, taking the reins of the conversation. "Your turn. Tell me about you."
"I'm Zayn. I'm a DJ at the Box - the same bar as Mitch. I don't have a dog. I live close - downtown and spend most of my time at a studio."
"You're a musical lad."
"Very." He responded. "I love music. It's my escape."
"You don't get tired of music?"
"Never." He responded. "There's so much to listen to and so much to create. I can easily play a set, finishing at 03h00am and go to the studio until 06h00 to make something new. Some people hit the gym...I create music."
"What kind?"
"Whatever my spirit feels."
I found his fascinating. "And you can create...like that?"
"I don't want to brag and sound pretentious as fuck, but...It's quite simple. I just play around, until I find the right beat, add words and...voila."
"Fascinating process..." I commented. "I play a little bit of a guitar and sing. I tried the drums, but surprisingly, I don't have hand to feet coordination."
"Interesting. I do play the guitar, a bit of piano..." He added. "Can I guess your genre?"
"Sure."
Zayn stared at me for what seemed forever.
"Pop. With a hint of alternative. Rock, but not heavy metal. You like the classics, but not necessarily the Beatles or the Stones, but bands with good lyrics with strong hooks. Even underground bands, most people won't know of. You're the kind that can and will repeat the same song over and over."
I was surprised by how accurate his description had been.
"How-?"
"It's obvious..." He smirked. "Besides, Mitch told me."
I let out a light chuckle and he mimicked me.
"Funny."
Zayn twisted his glass and then leaned forward again, sending me the scent of his perfume.
"What makes you think I want to fuck you?"
"What, you want me to pitch myself to you, Zayn?"
"Humour me, Harry."
"I'm not ugly," I responded with confidence, and he raised his eyebrows. "And I know you checked me out."
"Huh..." He hummed and I politely thanked him with a short nod. "Did you check me out?"
"I did."
"And?"
"I'm intrigued and I would be lying if I said I didn't found you interesting," I commented. Zayn smiled wider. "What about me?"
Zayn watched for a long time. "A nice surprise."
I shot him my award-winning smile. "I'll take it."
There was something here. Even if just physical it was certain and palpable. We stared into each other's eyes, unmoving, measuring one another and wanting to have a taste. A bite. A lick. Something. Looking at it for what it was, we had chemistry and I could feel his pull towards me.
"Then..." He let out. "Let's finish this and go to some place...quieter."
"Okay."
"Are you driving?"
"Yes, my car is parked by."
"Great," Zayn responded, grabbing his drink. "I know just the spot."
****
We didn't go far.
We were still at the docs. However, no one could see us. Zayn had chosen this spot, under a walkway and I parked my black car in the shadows. No one could see us, but we could see them. The river sloshed closely with a lazy sound and the sounds of the night were distant. I wasn't nervous...
Anxious?
I mean, I know sex. I've had sex before. However, never like this - with such honesty and openness. So, I was a tiny bit anxious - after all, Zayn seemed so open about it. He sat at my passenger's side, with legs sprawled wide and comfortably sitting in a car that wasn't his. He seemed trusting. Believing in me and my pure intentions.
"What if I'm a serial killer?" I asked. "What then?"
Zayn scoffed looking at me. "Are you?"
"I could be."
"Are you?"
I smiled. "No. Are you?"
"No, but you asking me that has some serious racial undertones..." He commented and I panicked. I stuttered trying to produce a response, but Zayn cackled in my face. "Relax. Relax. Breathe, Harry-"
"That's not funny."
"You're too tense. I'm joking." He let out a smile that contaminated me as well. "We're good."
"So..." I looked around seeing some lost souls wandering about, coming, and going to the bars. "Do we just...do it?"
"You haven't done this before, have you?"
"I've done one-night stands. I'm not a virgin."
"Do I intimidate you?"
I turned to him, seeing him glare at me with those eyes. How did they manage to glimmer so seductively in the dark? And that smirk, full of smugness! He knows he's attractive and sexy.
"No..."
Zayn smiled at me, his tongue peeking between his teeth. Zayn moved to his coat and retrieved a cigarette pack. He opened it and from inside he took a dark stick, clearly not a cigarette.
"Perhaps, a bit of smoky courage?"
"Weed?"
"Yes."
"Oh..."
He cocked his head at me, with his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
"You've never smoked?"
"No. I have..." I explained. "I just...don't make a habit out of it."
"Well, aren't you a choir boy?"
"I'm not-"
"I must say, I love seeing you defensive. You're cute when you pout."
I scoffed "Why do people say I pout? I don't pout."
"You just did, and I found it very adorable."
I rolled my eyes and Zayn chuckled again. He won again and I had to present my defeat as well.
"Well, light it up, then."
"Hang on, first we both comprehend we're doing this as two consensual adults, right? If you don't want to smoke, we don't have to. If you don't want to have sex, we don't have to. I'm down for whatever you want to do, and I won't make you feel any type of way." Zayn explained. "Is that fair?"
"Yes." I frowned. "You know, I'm not some idiot who will accuse you of taking advantage of me or something. I know what I'm doing."
"I know..." He explained. "I just don't want you to feel pressured or anything. I'm a gentleman. I'm not a dog."
"You're honest."
"Yes. And sex is no fun if you're doing it...just because you want to impress me."
"Well, what if I want to have sex...because I want to have sex?" I asked. "Is that valid?"
"For sure."
"Cool," I added. "Now, do you need me to sign a consent form, or can we move this along?"
He showed me a smile "Yes, sir."
****
Watching Zayn smoke was some sort of art. I was obsessed with how the smoke cloud danced around his lips, going up and touching his nose slightly, wafting to his forehead, disappearing above his hair. With parted lips, he would open the way to a veil of grey that floated from his lips like magic.
We would pass the joint back and forth, unafraid of trading saliva - which didn't matter if we were about to do something far worse later.
When it hit me, I felt it on my fingertips first. I counted my fingers repeatedly, feeling my tips as if they were new. Then, I noticed how my blinking had slowed, as did my heart and everything seemed quiet - my mind was surprisingly empty. A weird haze covered my train of thought; I was looking and feeling myself from through a glass - distant and echoed.
I blinked again, cutting this scene with the next, finding the car dimmed in a soft mist that discreetly dissipated with the help of a cracked window.
Another blink and I noticed how bright the streetlights were and how the people moved at a distance. Were they walking? Or was I walking? Was the world still spinning?
I blinked again and then I looked at Zayn, he was still at my side but closer. There was not a centre console between us anymore and we had moved to the backseat of the car.
The front seats had been pushed forward, with Zayn's coat resting on the back of the passenger's seat. I saw his rolled-up sleeves showing his arms full of tattoos and immediately I grabbed it. I traced the ink, pushing the arm close to my face and loving it.
"These are..." My mind emptied before I could speak. What was I saying? I blinked again and found his eyes staring at me and a smile. "This shit is..."
"Powerful."
"Yeah..." I responded with a sigh. I looked down at his arm again. "Did these hurt?"
"It stops hurting at some point. I have more, though."
"You do?"
He smiled at me wide. "I do. Want to see?"
"Yes. Yes."
Zayn sat up, taking off his turtleneck, and showing me his chest. It was broad, well built; the ink was detailed even in the dark. I leaned forward, with my hand resting on his chest, inching closer to his honey skin, and smelling his cologne.
The details and lines had me hypnotized. I noticed how my fingertips tingled when grazing his brown skin and how warm it was.
"Do you have any tats, Harry?"
His voice sounded like velvet in my ears. I looked up seeing how close he was to me. Was he whispering? Should I whisper too?
"Yes,"
"Want to show me?"
"Yes!" I whispered again. "I need...help, though..."
"Okay..."
Zayn helped me remove my blazer, which was somehow glued to my skin. Then, he unbuttoned my baby blue shirt and helped me take it off. I hadn't realized how warm I was. Zayn handed me the blunt and I took it to my lips, feeling dizzy while I smoked it. I leaned back against the car door, feeling I was heavy and slow.
Zayn touched my torso sending sparks through me. His hand wrapped around my neck gently, coming down my, right between my pecs and stopping at my moth tattoo that flapped its wings as I breathed.
I let the smoke fly off my lips disappearing on top of my head. Zayn leaned down to my stomach and left me a kiss there. So gentle. So soft. My breath stopped and I froze at such an intimate moment. He was kind and loving.
Zayn sat up again, looking at me: shirtless, warm, and beautiful. I blinked as he came in and out of focus.
Was time passing or standing still?
I was sinking into something or was I being taken by this haze?
Gently, Zayn reached over to me and grabbed the joint from my fingers. It was almost done, leaving nothing but a stub. Zayn inhaled it, with the tip of it burning altogether and reaching his fingers. When it was done, he tossed out of the cracked window over his shoulder.
Zayn turned to me and blew the smoke softly, in a grey cloud. It fell over my body like a mist, dissipating over my exposed sin.
"Are you okay, Harry?"
I took a deep breath in. I was breathing slowly, but my heart was pounding. Zayn looked magical and handsome. I was taken by his posture, how he gazed at me and the way he sat between my legs. A raven that was ready to take me and all my defences were gone.
"Yes..."
"Has it hit you yet?"
"Yes..."
Zayn tilted his head to the side, his eyelashes blinking slowly. His hand rested on his lips, rubbing on his well-shaved beard, as he looked outside. I blinked again and he was closer to me. Sitting between my legs, leaning towards me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, shaking me a little and with a stern voice. I nodded, as words were too heavy to come out of my tongue. "Words, Harry."
"Yes."
"Are you conscious?"
I sneered and felt lazy. "Yes."
"What day is today?"
"Friday."
"And you understand what is about to happen?"
"Yes."
"You want this?"
I smiled. "I do."
"Okay..."
His hands went to my pants, gently undoing my belt, then unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper. He was taking ages to do such a gesture and was driving me mad.
Was he going slow or was I seeing things slowly?
Zayn curved his fingers inside my trousers pulling them down, untangling them from my ankles and my shoes. He watched me for a while, and it seemed to take forever. Admiring my body: my stomach muscles, my pecs, my arms...
Zayn leaned over to me - for a moment I thought he would kiss me, but his lips found the crook of my neck and when they touched me I saw stars. It felt like a feather grazing my skin, making me close my eyes. I felt him again on my collarbone, then further down on my chest. Soft pecs, with no sound, but that felt amazing. Zayn kept moving and I could see him, even with my eyes closed. I welcomed his kiss again on my moth tattoo, distracting me as he pulled down my boxers.
It all happened so slowly and so carefully. I could hear my intense breathing, my soft hums and wants inside my head. I welcomed the soft breeze from the window above my head, keeping my body fresh as I burned in desire and high.
I fall against the backseat, sprawling like a cat and loving the haze. I hadn't gotten high in so long, but this was a new wave of it. Even with my eyes closed I could see Zayn touching me all over, as if I were flying over my body.
"Harry?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm guessing it's hitting you pretty nicely, you're squirming around."
"Hm hm..."
"Look at me..."
I opened my eyes and Zayn was on my waistline, with his chin resting on my hip bone. He was blinking slowly, his eyes half closed and a dumb smile on his lips. Was it hitting him too?
Zayn brought two fingers to his mouth, swirling around most sensually. Then, I felt them come into me. their motion rippled through me like fire. I relaxed, welcoming him into me with a subtle motion. My hands touched my own body, feeling like silk and sliding easily.
Soft lips kissed me in a place I hadn't been kissed in a while. Kisses that made me smile warmly and hum in softness. The fingers left me, making me miss them instantly. When I felt his tongue on my length, travelling from the base to the tip, I shuddered. I went into his mouth, nearly collapsing in the fog, unable to keep my eyes open. The overstimulation and oversensitivity caused by the weed were driving me insane. There was nothing else but my moans of pleasure and the sound of Zayn sucking me off.
Was I dreaming? Was this really happening? Having a one-night stand with this...God of a man while high?
I opened my eyes and looked down. My cock was lost in him. Zayn was dedicated and took me entirely. My hand grazed his raven hair, feeling like velvet, with my fingers losing themselves in his perfect scalp. My hips met his face, sinking as deep as they could in a perfect lulled motion.
"Oh God..." I moaned and arched, wanting to breathe but at the same time wanting to die without it. Never stop. Don't want it to stop. I opened my mouth and desire formed in words forming a pleasurable plea. "Fuck me..."
I looked down again and saw Zayn pull me out of his mouth.
Was he doing it slow or was I seeing it that way?
It didn't matter. My cock came out of his lips, sparking with his saliva and my pre cum. Zayn wiped his lips and sat up, undoing his pants. Then, I saw him reach for his coat and take something out of his pocket.
Another joint?
No, it was a circle protected in a silver square with a famous brand written on it. Zayn ripped it open, taking the circle from within and stretching it over his length, which stood perfectly from his dark forest.
Oh shit...it was happening. It was really happening.
I blinked fast this time, catching every second of him coming into my space and falling on top of me. He was heavier than I thought. My skin was on his. Our chests together. Zayn in the middle of my legs- it wasn't even a discussion of who would do this or not. It felt...obvious.
"Shit...It's hitting me now..." He commented with a lazy smile, making me giggle too. "Tell me if I hurt you."
And before I even could agree, I felt him.
I felt him burning through my skin. Making its way into me. The most intense thing ever. Like I've never felt before. We both gasped and moaned as he came into me in one sitting.
Somehow, hearing Zayn moan like this, drove me wild - the base in his voice sent shivers up my skin, pulling my hair to stand straight.
"Fuck, this is good..." Zayn whispered into my face, moving into me. He loved the friction of our skins. "The best high I've ever had."
"And the best fuck?"
A lazy smile came across his lips. A lazy and high smile.
"Let's see how you behave, pretty boy." I reached for his lips, but Zayn avoided me. I was confused. Maybe he didn't understand me, so I reached for a kiss again and one more time he avoided me. "I don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Kiss..."
I frowned, feeling him move inside me still. "You don't kiss...during sex?"
"No. I don't kiss one-night stands..." Zayn explained as his hips moved into me. I tried to be focused. "Too intimate."
"Your cock is in me."
"And it fits nicely too."
"But you won't kiss me."
"Does it matter?"
I frowned. "Yes."
"I'll make you forget all about it." He moved faster into me, and I saw stars. The haze took me flying above the clouds and into a state, I had never been. I moaned like a sinner, abandoning the idea of contact from his lips. "See?"
The pleasure waves hit my shore repeatedly. I allowed myself to sprawl on the seat, taking him in and enjoying it. If he didn't want to kiss me, fine, I'd revel in the pleasure by myself and love it.
My moans gained weight, echoing inside the car.
"Loud, baby..." Zayn commented close to me, and I tried not to shout at the compliment. "Guess the fuck is good then..."
He moved faster into me, and I took it. Every inch of it, losing myself. I couldn't stretch any wider, couldn't open further - but I would if I could, just take him all.
Zayn moved easily, hitting me deep and making me whimper. His cock sent me into madness, as the car rolled with his movements.
My hands touched his arms, going up his back and grabbing his hair. The sound of our skins slapping drove me even madder, sparks flying everywhere, and I could implode right there and then.
"Shit..."
"Hey..."
I opened my eyes seeing Zayn stare at me. His face was half-hidden in the shadows, but I couldn't stop staring at his cloaked beauty. I was drowning in his dark eyes as he stared into me. Or was it my lips? Was he inching closer?
Zayn moaned into my face, brushing his lips against me. He moaned as well, intertwined with heaving breathing. His hand rested at the side of my face, with his thumb on my cheek - he wanted me to look at him. It only made him move faster.
"Shit..." I moaned as another wave drove me higher. My eyes dared to close. "God...Fuck..."
"Hey..." He called me again and I opened to see him stare at me. "Look at me."
And if time had stopped before, now it was non-existent. Had he always been this handsome? This intense? Had these lips always called for me in this way?
Zayn inched closer, his lips rubbing on mine and then...his tongue licked my upper lip. Zayn slowed down, moving into me calmly.
My moans subsided, with my only sound being a soft whimper. Zayn's eyes searched my face for a moment.... He seemed confused...
"What are you?" He asked, mostly to himself. His thumb caressed my face, coming further down to outline my lips. Zayn seemed distant. "You're glowing..."
"Am I?"
"Yes." He commented, memorizing the outline of my lips. "Can I taste your glow?"
"Yes."
I understood what he meant. I was glowing from the inside out. I was exploding with the touch of his lips, his warm breath, and his tongue on mine. My hands pulled him closer to me - I wanted him on me, a part of my DNA almost.
Don't leave. Don't be unlatched from me, honey boy. You with the colour of gold that shines in the dark, soft skin and hair like velvet. You with the warm breath and the hypnotizing tongue. You with the motion that made me whimper again against your lips and hiss with a frown of pleasure. You, honey boy. Just you.
We were slow and kissed with dedication. We stopped altogether and just kissed. Zayn's tongue invaded my mouth, tasting me and I sucked on his lips.
We did just that. Our mouths waltzing around one another. Humming over the deliciousness of what it was to have such a contact.
My hands moved from his hair, down his back signalling him to move with a gentle squeeze on his behind.
Zayn got my message and when we did our moans sounded the same. I opened my eyes, finding him staring at me.
Zayn thrusted into me making me groan.
Then again and I yelped.
One more time and I hissed. He smiled, with his lips on mine. We quickly gained speed again as our senses were taken in the haze.
"Oh, fuck..." I cried as my voice raised higher. I wanted to explode. I lost myself in his lips, sinking my teeth in their softness. "Shit...Oh, fuck..."
He smiled.
A deviant smile.
An overconfident high smile. I pulled him into another sloppy kiss, where I pulled his hair. Now, he was almost violent, and I was screaming.
"Harry..." He moaned against me. "Harry..." He said as if in a chant. Half in and out of me. "Fuck, where did you come from, babe?"
Now, I was the overconfident one, letting him lick me all over. The car rocked from side to side, while my legs spread easily to this handsome stranger.
We rose together, our moans melting together in shortness of breath. I was going insane, opening up like the most beautiful flower. Zayn found his home in me, responding to my body and adoring every inch of me.
I was so loud, I feared people could hear me. If they did, I didn't care.
I felt it.
Taking my breath away, vibrating inside of me and wanting to come out. Amped up to a thousand thanks to the weed that flew in my veins.
A snap and I knew it.
I tilted over coming all over between us. I arched, with my head back, my eyes rolling and blinding me. It came over me like an avalanche from the top of my head to the tip of my cock. It shot out, warm and milky rubbing on our stomachs.
Zayn kissed my chin one last time and bit my lower lip, moaning into me. He cursed me, then choked as he came into the condom.
I believe I went somewhere else in my mind. I dozed off and Zayn did too for a minute or more.
The laughter of someone walking by made me open my eyes. All was clear. No more haze. My eyes blink normally. The high was wearing off, I believed.
Now, I was me again. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I only felt Zayn's warm breath on my neck.
I opened my eyes when I felt him move from inside of me. I remained laid in the backseat of my car with my legs spread and cum on my stomach. Without shame, Zayn removed the condom that was full of himself, wrapped it in a piece of paper and set it aside. Quietly, he got dressed.
Slowly, I realized I wasn't warm anymore and the hairs on my body were standing. My chest tightened,
Was the haze gone?
Zayn got dressed with diligence. As if he hadn't been naked just seconds ago. He sat next to me looking at a distance - he seemed...confused.
Lost?
Intrigued, perhaps?
Zayn looked at me. His eyes were all over my body. Time seemed frozen until he whispered:
"That was beautiful,"
Was he sad? Had I not been good enough?
"Zayn-"
He turned away from me, grabbing the tissue with the condom and his coat, before pushing the door open. The chilly wind made me move, closing myself and protecting myself from the fresh breeze. Zayn closed the door with a bang. He stood there for a moment, and I was hoping to hear words.
Any words?
Anything!
But no. Again, in silence, Zayn walked away from the car. A casual stroll as if he had gone to the bank or the bakery. A hand in his pocket, large strides and faces ahead.
I watched him. Should I follow him?
Zayn then slowed down to a halt. He lowered his head, shaking it slightly and he palmed his face. Quickly, he tossed the paper in the bin and lingered there. Was he watching me from the corner of his eye? What was he thinking?
I wouldn't know.
Zayn walked on, straight ahead, until he disappeared out of sight.