12. Annie
Annie
“You’re doing what?” Cassie yells into the phone.
“I’m moving in with Zayn.” I pace around my apartment as movers pack my things, making sure they are handling everything with care. I can’t have my favorite mugs getting broken.
“Yeah, no, I heard that. But, why?”
“Well, the building will be torn down in a few weeks and I’m out of good options for places to stay. Zayn has a spare bedroom, so I’ll hardly see him.”
Cassie’s laughter echoes through the phone.
“Okay, one, you will see him. He’s not a ghost. And two, you could have stayed with Emmett and me.”
“Sis, I love you. But, your spare bedroom is Emmett’s writing office. That wouldn’t work.”
“Does this not cross some sort of line?” Cassie asks, and I grimace.
Would I choose to live with my ex-boyfriend’s older brother?
On a normal day, no. But this isn’t normal, and I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to be around him more.
The push and pull between us is enough to dredge up old memories with Dan, and I’m finding it hard to keep what happened to myself.
“Oh, it crosses a line. But Zayn was with me when I found the notice and I couldn’t find a reason to say no to him. Plus, we are dating now, so it kind of makes sense from a media standpoint.”
“Fake dating, Anns.”
“Same difference,” I argue. I lean against the wall and watch the movers as they finish packing up the last few boxes. I thought I’d be more emotional about this. I’ve lived in this apartment since I came to LA, but I find myself ready to take that next step, at peace.
“No, not the same. Are you sure you’re not in too deep already? I just don’t want you to get hurt again after—”
“I know what I’m doing. And there’s no way I’d ever like someone like Zayn. One brother was enough for me, okay?” What Cassie doesn’t need to know is that I’m already nervous that I’m in over my head.
“I trust you know what you’re doing. Just, promise that you’ll text me if you need anything. And don’t forget, if you need money or something—”
“You know how I feel about that. I’m okay, I promise. Love you.” Cassie never shoves money down my throat, and I know it takes a lot for her to bring it up, but she also knows I would never accept it. I can do this on my own.
After hanging up, I send Zayn a text to let him know I’m leaving and to meet me outside his building. Since he’s going to help move, and the media will be at his apartment at noon, I need him to be ready to fake it.
It’s a short drive to his apartment, but following the moving truck there takes a few minutes longer than I estimated. Zayn’s waiting for me outside.
“You’re late.” Zayn looks at me, arms crossed.
He’s wearing a white henley, with the first few buttons undone.
His outfit is super casual, yet I’m drooling at the way the shirt grips his biceps and chest. Has he always been this good looking?
It’s alarming how much more I’m attracted to him than I ever was to his brother.
“Shush. I’m late by like...” I glance down at my phone momentarily. “Three minutes.” My eyes snap back to his.
Zayn walks toward me, pausing for a moment, then leaning in. He hovers his mouth right above my ear. “That’s late in my book, Princess,” he says in barely a whisper, his warm breath sending a wave of small goosebumps over my arms.
I give him a playful shove. The thought was to give us a bit more distance, but it comes off more flirtatious than intended. “Go grab a box, Z.”
Zayn walks away, but not before playfully rolling his eyes while a smirk dances on his face.
Every time I’m around him, I find myself chipping away at that exterior.
I know we need to talk about his brother, but I don’t even know what I’d say.
I’m not about to tell him that his brother is the reason why I push myself hard at my job, to prove myself to everyone around me.
For the next hour, I help Zayn move boxes.
“Okay, I regret this plan. Why does it look like we haven’t made a dent in this truck?” I say, sitting on the edge of the trailer.
Zayn decides now is the perfect time to shed his shirt, leaving him bare-chested. This is what my hell loop would be.
“Might want to pick up your jaw, Annie, otherwise you might embarrass yourself.” Zayn raises his brows.
What he doesn’t know is this is the second time my jaw has dropped due to his shirtless chest. He jumps next to me on the truck bed, offering me a water bottle he got from I don’t even know where.
“Shut up,” I grumble. Out of habit, I bite my lower lip and look down at my feet. He makes me nervous, and I’m starting to feel a little flutter in my stomach, which is awfully annoying. I need to throw water on this fire, and I know just the way.
I shift my attention back to him to find him already staring at me. An unsettling chill darts through my body, knowing he was already looking at me. Watching me.
“Are you close with your brother?”
Zayn shakes his head. “Far from close. We don’t talk much. I’m much closer with Kiley.”
“Mm,” I respond as a speck of dirt on the moving truck’s floor catches my attention. Our body language has officially gone from borderline flirtatious to two teenagers talking at a school dance.
“I know I said some things before about your job, and...” Zayn starts.
I turn to face him again. He runs his right hand through his blonde locks like he tends to do any time he’s nervous, dipping his head down, before meeting my eyes.
“I’m not like him. I don’t want to be perceived as like him.
Your job is important and will help me land my dream role.
And that alone is not a small task.” Zay’s apology catches me off guard.
He’s always been a mystery to me. Whenever Dan talked about him, it was always surface level facts or about the latest film he was in.
And when I did see Zayn, it was as if he was already closed off.
I want to ask him about his past, his relationship, know more about it.
It has to be more than what the media led everyone to believe.
I know first hand what it looks like to cover up a story and fake a new one.
Zayn looks like he lost all joy from his life and has shut himself out from everyone.
If what was in the media is true and his previous relationship ended amicably, he wouldn’t be like this. He wouldn’t need me.
It’s almost like everything happened for a reason.
Has fate truly brought Zayn and I together?
For what purpose? To ensure a new trilogy gets made and a new fandom is born?
Doubt it. I’m not sure why the universe would decide to throw my ex’s older brother in my path, but I’m starting to not hate it as much as I did last week.
“It’s okay,” I say. Zayn raises his eyebrow at my sudden forgiveness. “I mean it, water under the bridge.”
Zayn grumbles and he’s back to his grumpy self. He shifts a little closer to me on the bed of the truck so our legs are touching. Next, he throws his right arm around me, and I tense up. I forgot he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
This is supposed to be friendly fake dating, limited touching should be required.
Zayn’s upper body leans closer to me, his mouth doing that thing again where it hovers right above my ear. “It’s showtime, Princess.”