slow it down // zayn malik

chapter five // give it up to the dj.

linley's pov

 As I flag down the waiter once again, I can see Zayn practically steaming with anger. I order yet another whiskey, raising my drink count to four in one sitting. 

At first I genuinely wanted to get drunk, that way I wouldn't have to remember spending time with Zayn in the morning, but now I'm merely doing it to piss him off. Every time I take a sip from my glass, he goes off complaining about how if I throw up on him, he'll wring my neck. 

I think I may have found a new hobby; irritating obnoxious celebrities. 

"You're going to get alcohol poisoning," Zayn mutters, "Actually, feel free to keep the drinks coming, love," He smirks, finding himself incredibly amusing. 

I roll my eyes. Nothing he says is effecting my mood any longer. I've hit the point where I'm on top of the world. My insides are warm from the alcohol and I can't stop giggling. 

"Where is Sable?" I turn, realization suddenly hitting me that I haven't seen my best friend for a few hours now. 

I can tell I'm starting to hit my limit - probably not needing another drink - as my words start to become slurred and sloppy. I sit up on my knees on my chair, looking around the tent in concern, worried that Sable is in trouble.

"Oh, jesus christ," Zayn complains, reaching over to push me down on my seat just as I'm about to wobble off the side, "Your friend is looking for a way to get us out of this mess," He tells me, snapping at me like an irritated parent yelling at their child. 

"You don't have to be so mean," I mutter, pouting my lips and giving him a dramatically sad expression. 

My sad mood doesn't last long though. The waiter appears out of nowhere, planting a fresh glass of whiskey right in front of me. My eyes light up as I reach forward to grab it. 

But before I have time to even touch the glass, Zayn is reaching out and taking it away from me. I watch in disbelief as he takes the glass and spills the contents to the ground. The waiter looks at him in shock, startled just like me. 

"What are you doing?" I shout at him, raising my voice loud enough for those around us to turn and give us a confused look.

"Cutting you off," Zayn snaps, making my blood boil once again.

So much for my great mood...

"Since when did you get the right to make decisions for me?" I growl at him, slapping an angry hand on the table to give him my deadliest glare. 

"When you decided to get completely trashed," He answers as if it were the most simple answer in the world. 

The waiter quickly shuffles away, obviously incredibly uncomfortable and not wanting to get in the middle of our heated argument. I don't blame him. The way we glare at each other, it's a surprise that either of us are even still alive. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm an adult and I can make my own decisions," I roll my eyes, feeling the heat burning inside my chest. 

Zayn rolls his eyes as well and slumps back in his chair, obviously done arguing with me. He mutters something under his breath and I almost didn't hear it. I'm sure Zayn wishes I hadn't,

"You sure don't look like it..."

My eyes snap open as he mutters yet another insult at my biggest insecurity; the fact that I look incredibly young with my small frame. 

Now, I'm not a violent person in the slightest. I have never believed that it solved anything. I'm a firm believer in 'make love, not war'. But when it comes to Zayn Malik, I wanted him dead. I wanted to watch him suffer as I strangled him to death.