Life Of A Prostitute (Ziall Horlik) AU

Chapter 10

Niall's POV

I got home from a long day of work and slipped off my shoes right at the front door. My dad had been on my arse all day just because I didn't make an actual case about what happened to Zayn. So, he threw me out to the streets where I had to write traffic tickets. He didn't even let Liam come with me so I was just bored all day. But the worst part was that my bother made an arrest of a criminal that we had been looking for, for months now. That just made my dad say how proud he was of him, making me feel ten times worse than I already did. It just reminded me that I wasn't doing good enough to make my dad proud.

I just turned down the hall when I ran straight into Zayn. Both of us went crashing to the floor, me falling right on top of him and him trying to get his balance by just landing right on his bum. His hands gripped my hips and his legs spread right when we hit the floor so I felt flat against him. I looked at his face probably with the most ridiculous blush on my cheeks.

"How was your day, dear?" He asked me in a way that sounded like it was from one of those old fashioned television shows. I giggled, but it turned into full blown laughing for us both because something about our laughs made us laugh that much more. It was like a chemical reaction in a way. Except this relation was one that made me forget about how bad I had felt all day and just feel happy. I saw in Zayn's eyes he felt glad he could actually laugh.

"It was just another day at work. What did you get up to?" I asked him. He shifted us a little more on the floor so we could be more comfortable. I was still pressed tightly to him, but he just moved so his back was to the wall.

"I didn't really do anything but sleep. I ate some cereal though. Sorry about that." He apologized. I rolled my eyes and rest my head on his strong shoulder. He moved his hands up so they were just flat on my back and looked me in the face. I let my eyes pick out the few freckles he had on his cheeks before looking at his brown eyes that were trained down on my uniform like he was forcing himself not to be afraid of it.

"I'm going to go change. Do you like Chinese food?" I asked him, moving out of his arms. Surprisingly, I wanted to just go right back into them just as I was out of them. In a non-comical way, it was the same feeling I get when I get out of bed in the morning. Zayn's fingers lingered on me as I moved more away from him, but that got me thinking that maybe he did this with the many other men and women he's been paid by in the past. Maybe he held them like that too. So I put my guard over my heart once again and stood up from the floor. Zayn got up too and mumbled he liked any type of food before walking away from me to the living room. That comment hurt me a little because he probably didn't get to choose what he ate. It was always just if he ate.

I got out of my uniform into some more comfortable clothes that I could lounge around in. As I was taking off my black uniform pants, my knee that was still pretty messed up from the other day decided to buckle on me. My body slammed into the dresser before I landed on the floor with a yelp and a hiss. I wasn't the only thing to land on the floor. A very old gift from my brother fell to the floor from the top where I had hid it. It was a sketch book and some other art supplies that Greg thought would be a good gift for me when I had my knee surgery and couldn't move. I've never done art a day in my life. I can't even draw a stick person, so I just threw it up there so he would think I used it.

My fingers gripped the sketch book so I could probably throw it out by now, but a drawing inside it caught my eye. It was of a very small boy, probably five or younger with his knees curled up to himself sitting on a couch with a man that looked similar to him. They both looked happy, but the colored picture wasn't complete yet so I didn't know what they were doing. All I knew was I was in complete and utter shock that anyone could draw this well and color it in so amazing that it looked like a painting or just a picture taken. I was so shocked over the talent that I was looking at that I didn't even think of who could have done it. I knew it sure as hell wasn't me. I looked closer at the young boy and saw his big brown eyes. The sketch book slammed shut not even a second after it registered in my mind. I got dressed as fast as I could then flipped through more pages. Detailed pictures of men and women scattered the pages. Some didn't have eyes as if the memory of them didn't stick so it couldn't be drawn. There were some of Zayn himself with tears rolling down his cheeks but a haunting smile on his face. The last page I flipped to was an incredibly detailed picture of a man with a mustache with angry eyes that scared me so much, I needed to close the book. I've seen some stuff on the force, but those images were something I didn't ever think I could live through.