Chapter 9

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"Zayn- what the?" I took in my surroundings. I was in a room lit up with sunlight, the whole wall in front of me made of glass. The bed I was in was all black bed with silk sheets. Zayn was on his knees at the side of the bed, leaning onto it with his elbows.

"You're at my house..."

"Is this your bed?" I asked and he nodded. "It is SO comfortable!" I threw his silk duvet over my face, rolling around the mattress. 

"Are you still drunk?" He asked, laughing at my flailing limbs.

"What?" I laughed with him. "I don't drink, you goof." I picked up the pillow closest to him and hit him.

"First of all...goof? Really?" He grabbed the pillow and laughed again. "Second, you were drunk. I mean, look what you did to me." He took the collar of his charcoal t-shirt and pulled it down, revealing a large flower-like, purple bruise.

"I hit you?" My head started to throb. Why am I even in his bed? Why is it more comfortable than mine? I couldn't stop running my hands along the silk sheets.

"What?" He broke into laughter yet again. "No! Dais, it's not a bruise. It's a love bite. Or, as you called it....a hickey." My cheeks flushed and I threw the duvet over my face once again, trying to hide from Zayn's chuckling.

"Ugh how embarrassing! Will you stop laughing?!" I looked up so see him in fits on the floor.

"I'm...sorry.." He said in between laughs. "You're...you're just so cute." 

My eyes widened and I rolled away from him, stuffing my face into the pillow. Maybe if I stay this way I'll just suffocate and escape my embarrassment. 

"Are you hungry?" I was going to say no, not wanting to leave the safe zone that is his bed, but my stomach betrayed me with a growl. "C'mon I'll make you something." He said, pulling the blanket from me and extending his hand.

He helped me up and I realized what I was wearing.

...this is his shirt...and his boxers?! Oh my gosh.



•••••



"So you really don't remember anything, huh?" He asked as I finished the omelet he made me.

"Nope."

"That's too bad."

"What happened?"

"Well, you confessed your love for me." I choked on my orange juice. "I'm only kidding. The only affectionate thing you did last night was give me this." He laughed pointing to his neck.

"Ok. That wasn't funny."

"Not true. Shoulda seen your face." He said pointing the spatula at me. "Anyways, what's the last thing you remember?"

What was the last thing? I remember having a really awkward conversation with Mik...but then what? Oh!

"I was playing Xbox with Franky." His eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall the previous night.

"That's it?" He said, playing my omelette in front of me. 

"Yeah...I think so." I shrugged.

"Yeah that's where you were when I came in. You were playing Xbox with...him. And I saw how drunk you were, so I made you leave with me."

"But how did I get drunk? I only drank juice..." 

"Christian mixed your juice with vodka." I gasped.

"That's why it tasted bad!"

"Yeah."

"What were you even doing there? I hadn't seen you all night..."




•••
Zayns POV
•••



"I showed up just to chill...I didn't even think you'd be there." I lied. I only went HOPING she would be there. "And when I saw you all messed up, I took it upon myself to take care of you." My eyes widened at my choice of words...luckily she didn't notice.

If she found out how much I like her I'd probably go back to homeschooling. Or maybe I'd buy a boat and drift out to the middle of the sea. Nobody could see my embarrassment out there, I thought.

"Why didn't you just take me home?" She was picking at her food. 

"I was afraid your parents would see you drunk...I was just trying to make sure you weren't getting in trouble." I explained as I scarfed down an omelette of my own.

"Oh...yeah." She shifted in her seat. "About that...when I say they wouldn't care, I really do mean it." She stuffed a bite of her omelette in her mouth.

"Ok. I trust you." I didn't want to force her to talk about her parents. It was still just the morning.

"Zayn...I have one more question."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"How did I get into these clothes..." I laughed at her nervous demeanor.

"You changed in the bathroom. I saw nothing. Don't worry." She nodded. "How's your omelette?" I asked, trying my best to change the subject.

"It's good, thank you."

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