heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter six

"I sang my princess fast asleep,

'Cause she was my dream come true."

- Owl City [Lonely Lullaby]

Dinner was a pretty awkward affair. Jack kept smirking at me,  Zayn glared at the both of us, and Marge attempted to make conversation or figure out why us three teenagers seemed so at odds.

Finally, once everyone was done eating, Marge said, "Why don't you and Valarie head up to bed, Zayn? You can tell me the whole story of how you two ended up in this position tomorrow, okay? Because houses don't just disappear for no reason, and I want to know what kind of trouble you got into this time."

"Okay. Thanks, Marge," he said with a warm smile, before turning and bounding up the staircase.

Slightly miffed that he hadn't even checked to see if I was behind him, I turned and gave Marge a hug. She seemed surprised by the gesture. Hell, I was surprised myself. I wasn't exactly a hug type of person. 

"Thank you. For everything."

Her eyes crinkled from the width of her smile. "My pleasure, dearie," she said warmly.

"Good night, Jack," I called.

He smiled up at me. "See you tomorrow, Valarie."

Once I was upstairs and in my bedroom, I realized that I had no pajamas with me. Before I could let out a groan of frustration, my eyes fell on a white shape lying on my new bed.

A nightgown.

How freaking sweet of Marge.

Without bothering to even lock the door, I stripped down to my underwear, shivering and hopping around as the unheated air touched down on my bare skin. Hastily, I yanked the nightgown on, giving a sigh of relief at the comforting feel of soft fabric.

Surprisingly, the gown was actually not that big; a little baggy, yeah, but it cut off right at my midthigh. I would've dearly loved it to be longer, but oh well. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Giving a small, lonely little sigh, I perched myself on the edge of the bed, wincing at the coolness of the unfamiliar sheets. They even smelled weird, nothing like home.

I felt an all-too-familiar tug at the back of my eyes, my eyes informing me that the sluices weren't going to hold back the flood of tears for very long.

Impulsively, I leaped off my bed, flung open the door to my bedroom, and tiptoed down the hallway. When I came to Zayn's room, I stopped, listening to the soft murmur of Marge and Jack's voices as they talked downstairs. What was I doing? I had to be batshit crazy, standing outside in my skimpy nightgown, instead of sucking it up and crying myself to sleep or something.

But then I remembered the genuine caring in Zayn's eyes, earlier in the kitchen, when he'd reminded me that he was still my guardian angel.

And before I could think twice, I flung open the door to the bedroom.

Come to think of it, that could've gone badly. What if he'd been changing or something? Talk about awkward.

Thankfully, he wasn't. He was lying on his bed, the covers folded back neatly. His head was pillowed in his hands, and he was staring blankly up at the ceiling. The moonlight sifting through the giant window lit on his black hair, turning it to silver, and outlining his shadowy profile. I took a moment to stare at the contrast, black ink of his tattoos glittering like diamond-infused coal, white shirt clinging to his fit body.

"Stop checking me out. I feel violated."

Mortified, I stumbled back as Zayn rolled onto his side, eyeing me with a lazy grin.