13. Annie
Annie
My eyes dart up and widen as I spot a camera off in the distance. Quickly I remember I shouldn’t look like a deer in headlights. That would not paint a positive picture. So, I turn to Zayn, smiling. I’m not used to being in front of the camera, so this experience is new for me.
“Think they got it?” I ask, trying to read the fine lines on his face.
“I’m not sure. Think we’re convincing enough?” Zayn asks.
My gaze trails back toward the camera, second guessing again if this was the right decision. I’m not great at dating, who was I kidding? I don’t know the first thing about PDA and what a normal couple would do. What’s too much? What’s too little?
Zayn leans in again, and his breath mingles with mine. My whole body is hot, and my breaths come faster. “You think too much,” he whispers.
He grabs my jaw with his left hand, gently tugging my attention back to him. Before I have the chance to ask what’s next, his lips are on mine. The same pair of lips I could not take my eyes away from. Always wondering, what would it be like? What would it be like to kiss Zayn Barnes?
Our kiss is done as quick as it started, but for that brief moment, I forgot where I was and who I was with. After, the sounds of passing cars and birds disappear and the only thing I can hear is the rising beat of my heart.
“I’d say that was fairly convincing,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “Although, we just broke the rules.”
“Rules are there to be broken, Princess.” Zayn's attention dips to my lips. His own mouth opens, as if he wants to say something, but then his jaw shuts and he hops off the truck. Did I want him to kiss me again? “Alright, let’s finish moving you in, then we can get some dinner.”
For the next two hours we move and unpack.
If I were to wait until later, I would never move out of the boxes.
Clothes are sorted into the dresser and hung up in the closet.
The room that I’m staying in looks like it came out of a Crate & Barrel catalog.
It doesn’t look like anyone has ever stepped foot in here.
The bed is immaculate, queen size with crisp white sheets and a pink pillow for a pop of color.
The furniture is matching dark brown wood.
There is only one bathroom, in the hallway, but that is about in the same condition as the bedroom, and I know Zayn uses that.
At least he’s cleared me a drawer in the bathroom and has bath towels, which I assume he bought for me as well.
I’m sitting on the floor of the bathroom, putting away a few toiletries, when I hear Zayn walking down the hallway. He appears in the doorway, leaning to one side to rest for balance. “How much longer will you be?”
“Not long,” I reply, already over the mood switching.
“Not long as in five minutes? Fifteen minutes? What time frame are we talking?” Zayn pesters.
I roll my eyes. “Five minutes? I don’t know?” I swivel to face him. “Want me to give you a play by play?” He brings out this side of me that I’ve never seen. I don’t think before I speak when I’m near him, I just say what’s on my mind, and it’s freeing.
“Five minutes,” Zayn mutters before storming down the hallway. Okay, maybe not storming, but he’s not a very happy roommate.
Exactly five minutes later, Zayn walks back into the bathroom. I’m done but decided to sort my drawer a little more to make finding a few items that I use on a daily basis easier.
I stand up from the floor. In the mirror, I see Zayn behind me, arms crossed, staring. I turn around and lean on the counter. “Can you try to be less grumpy?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“No. Are you staying for the show or are you leaving?” Zayn asks, his hands already gripping the band of his pants.
My eyes travel down his chest. Heat circulates through my body, and I’m this close to staying, to see how aroused he is around me. I let my gaze stay there for a few seconds before I peer back at him, knowing I should leave.
“I’d rather watch paint dry.”
When I shut the bathroom door, I hear him chuckle from the other side.
One of the first laughs, if you can even call it that, that I’ve heard from him.
The only emotions he wears outwardly are his smug face and the occasional smirk.
Today, when we kissed, that was new. But I didn’t get to read his emotions very well around that situation.
Also, it was staged, fake, for the cameras.
I shouldn’t be thinking about our kiss.
But I can’t stop thinking about our kiss.
I’m supposed to not like Zayn. I don’t like Zayn. He’s the complete opposite of me. Not only is he the grumpiest person I’ve met, he only cares about himself. He doesn’t seem to care about wanting to get to know anyone past a surface level, and he only cares about landing this role.
I’m his ticket to that.
Well, at least I’ll be with him all of the time to help coach him when needed. My phone buzzes as I walk to the kitchen to try and find something to eat.
“Hey Marce.” I hold the phone between my ear and my left shoulder, opening the fridge with my right hand.
It’s stocked with multiple types of beverages including my favorite sparkling water, as well as fresh veggies and fruit, and a dinner ready to go in the oven.
He even has the blueberry muffins from Flora on the counter.
I take the prepared dinner out and wander over to the oven.
“How’s the bachelor pad?” Marcy asks.
When I told her I was moving in with Zayn, I wouldn’t say she was thrilled, but she didn’t question my decision. It’s only temporary, which helps, so we didn’t talk about anything about this deal other than the basics of the arrangement. She wanted to make sure I had my own room.
“It’s not very bachelor pad-ish? Marce, his fridge is stocked.
” I click the preheat button on the oven, then turn around to rest my butt on the edge of the counter.
“And not like with a few things. Every shelf has something on it and everything is prepared. Which now that I talk about this it does kind of sound bachelor pad-ish... and my room was extra clean...”
“Definitely giving bachelor vibes,” Marcy says.
“Well, he is thirty and single, which is kind of the definition of a bachelor.” Looking around for a place to sit, I notice the stools by the island.
I walk over to take a seat in one, sinking into the leather and leaning back to give myself a moment to relax.
“But, it’s cute. I did just get here though, so maybe I just haven’t uncovered his hidden shrine for me. ”
“You joke, but from interacting with him, Zayn must have some secret side to him that convinced you to do this whole thing.” By whole thing, she means fake dating to increase his likability in the media.
With a sigh, I press the speakerphone button on my phone and set it on the counter, not worrying about Zayn overhearing since he’s taking a shower. That is one thing I’m desperately trying not to think about.
“This whole thing was my idea, not his. Come on, I’m the mastermind here.”
“Oh, trust me, I know you’re behind it all. I just mean he used to look so...” Marcy trails off.
“Happy? Enjoyed his life? Loved his job? Want me to continue?”
Marcy chuckles. “Yes, Anns, all of that. I just want you to be careful.”
I lean my elbows on the island, hovering over my phone. “No need to warn me, there’s nothing to be careful of. It’s not like that.”
“Sure it’s not. Not yet. Did the media successfully see you two today? Did you give them a good shot?”
Flashbacks to a few hours ago appear in my head like a daydream. His sweaty body. His smile. The kiss. “Yeah, we did.”
“Fuck.”
“What?” I ask, confused at Marcy’s sudden expression.
“You two kissed, didn’t you?”
“How in the hell—” I start, wondering how on earth she would figure that out. “You know what, never mind.” I shake my head even though she can’t see my hesitation.
“Damn, you two look good. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I wish he was cupping my face the way he’s cupping yours.”
“Wait, is there already an article?”
“Articles, babe. Plural. Just sent it to you. Gotta go though, need to run a few errands for the studio. Text me with any updates! I want to know everything!”
I chuckle as the line goes dead. Sure, Cassie may be my sister, and I’m glad we live in the same city again, but Marcy is my best friend and ride or die.
When I moved here for college and only knew Cassie and Emmett, they quickly took me in and introduced me to their group of friends at the studio.
It helped my transition to know a few people while meeting some of my own.
Marcy and I clicked immediately, bonding over our love for Emmett—mine more of an obsession I was trying to get over since he was now married to my sister and he wasn’t just a hot LA actor to me anymore.
Every week we would meet for coffee to talk about any of the latest studio gossip.
Then, we started getting dinner or running random errands together. Now, she’s like a second sister to me.
I pick up my phone and google Zayn. Sure enough, there are a solid twenty articles already out from this afternoon’s charade.
The cover image of every single one is one of three variations of Zayn and I.
The first is the one Marcy mentioned, us kissing with him gripping my jaw.
The second is us standing in front of the trailer, which is the most boring of them all.
The third, my favorite, was taken right after we kissed.
Zayn’s head is tilted down toward me and I’m looking slightly up at him.
Both of our faces are flushed, which could have been from the moment or the heat or the fact that we were moving boxes.
He’s still gripping my jaw, our eyes locked on one another.
Frozen in time. A photo shouldn’t turn me on as much as it is at this moment.
“Shit, they work fast.” A shiver runs down my spine. I drop my phone, face down, and turn my head to the left to see Zayn inches from me.
“Told you so.”
“Pretty sure that was because of me.” Zayn leans away from me and walks around the island. The oven is yelling to let us know it’s preheated.
I follow his every action, watching his hands as he grips the oven door and pulls it toward him.
When he leans over to place the tray on the rack, I’m rendered useless.
Utterly useless. My stare makes its way to his perfect ass, and I notice he’s wearing gray sweatpants, which are every woman’s weakness.
To pile on top of my suddenly horny state, he’s decided to wander around without a shirt, leaving his full, toned body on display.
Needing something to occupy my mind, I slide off the stool and look through cabinets to find the plates.
On the third try, I find the plates and grab two small ceramic ones.
I turn around, getting ready to go set them on the island or the table, when Zayn appears mere inches away from me.
When he’s this close, it takes everything in me to not reach up and rub the stubble on his chin, to pull his mouth to mine.
My eyes blink uncontrollably, unnerved with the way he’s making my body feel.
“What are you doing? You’re in my bubble.” I glare at him.
“I’m not sure, but I find that I like finding ways to make you squirm.”
“Well, can you stop it?”
Zayn takes a step closer to me, and I grip the plates tighter against my chest. They’re his plates, it’s not like he’s going to steal them from me.
Almost touching, Zayn leans toward me. Once again, hovering in that same spot makes my toes curl and my heart beat fast. “Do you want me to stop? Or are you hating the fact that I turn you on?”
“I—”
“I think we should talk about the rules,” Zayn leans to whisper in my ear. With his right hand, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
“What about them?” I whisper back.
“How do you feel about throwing them out? Just letting whatever’s going to happen, happen? Isn’t that something you want?”
He’s baiting me, but I can’t help but give in, even just a little bit.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“I think I know what you want,” Zayn says and begins to trail his fingers down my face, my neck, stopping at the top of my chest. “But you’re not going to let yourself have it, are you?”
His fingers move again down my torso and end on my hip. He stays there, his face still close to mine, his chest echoing the rise and fall of my own.
“That’s too bad,” Zayn whispers one last time before he pulls his face away from mine and removes his hand from my body.
Once again rendering me without words, Zayn steals the plates and walks toward the dining room.