If Time Stands Still

57- fate

Zayn's POV

Fúcking Clinton.

This is all his fault. These thoughts never haunt me, but he managed to get in my head yet again.

Surely I'll find love again soon. I've been just fine and preoccupied these past few months and I'll be fine for years to come, however long it might take to find the love of my life. The next will be my last.

I turn over when my snoozer goes off and finally throw the sheets off my body, heading to the mirror to take a look at myself. With a hand through my hair, I conclude that a haircut is needed.

I still got it, right? Just that other night, about two weeks ago, one of those volunteer girls were making eyes at me. Unless... that was all in my head. Or was that Sierra teasing me about it? I can't even recall.

The sound of the doorbell comes into earshot, which is extremely surprising since it's so early... and on a Sunday? These old folks really have no consideration sometimes.

Quickly, I grab my hoodie to throw over my vest since it's freezing, then I speed walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face to wake myself up.

Once I'm upstairs and semi-awake, I open the door where two girls turn around to face me, but I don't think I recognize either of them. I adjust the glasses over my sleep deprived eyes to get a better look, but still, neither of them look familiar.

With a double take at the older one, she quickly diverts her gaze despite her noticeable staring prior to getting caught.

Adorable. I smile slightly at her before looking down at younger one, "Hey." I greet her, but I catch myself looking over her head again at the one with the coat over her tracksuit. Surprisingly, she smiles back briefly, then folds her arms and looks away as if she's in a hurry.

"We're so sorry to wake you." The younger one apologizes on behalf of them both and again I spare a glance at who I assume is her older sister. There's a resemblance there. Definitely the same eyes. She looks down, breaking the eye contact we've maintained for a few long seconds which makes me realize I'm not paying attention to what the younger one is saying.

Luckily, I catch the words missing cat, so it only makes sense that this is about the one inside... who I haven't fed yet. Shít!

"White coat, slight limp, no collar?" I inquire.

"Yeah. Please tell me you've seen him." She pleads with hopeful eyes.

"I might've." I assure her with a smile, "I'll be right b- actually, do you two wanna come inside? It's quite cold out." I hold the door open for them.

The younger one is more than ready to step inside, but the older one grabs her by the jacket to stop her.

"We're okay out here." She finally speaks up, looking me dead in the eye with a stare colder than before.

I nearly raise my hands in surrender, but instead, I  nod before excusing myself to find their cat.

He must be here somewhere. I walk around, checking each room and every little space where a cat would most likely hide in... until an idea pops in my head.

I fill the bowl I left out for him with some cat food, shaking it slightly to grab his attention. Within seconds, he comes running in to munch on the few pieces I've thrown out while I wait.

I fold my arms over my chest, tapping my foot impatiently as I peep out the door. They're both still standing there and chatting to each other. Why would they stay out there? It's so cold. Do I give off a weird vibe? It's probably that. Maybe. I did not lose my charm. Clinton is full of shït.