17. Annie
Annie
What feels like five hours later, we come to another dead end. It’s just a wall to some building at the end of this route with corn on both sides.
“Fuck, another dead end.” Zayn kicks in front of him, hitting a few stalks of corn.
“It’s fine. If we can’t find our way out, we can just walk through the corn.” Thinking it might be helpful to offer a solution, I keep a smile plastered on my face. Even though I need water and am exhausted from walking in circles.
“It’s not fine.” Zayn glares in my direction.
I walk over to the wall, turning my back toward it. Just a little bit of rest is all I need. “Mhm, fine. We will find our way out.” I close my eyes briefly, trying to calm my nerves.
“Don’t do that.”
My eyes snap open and I roll my head to the right to look at him. “Do what, Zayn? Please enlighten me,” I bark back.
“Don’t pretend like you’re in a good fucking mood right now.”
“I’m not pretending, I am having a good time,” I retort, plastering an even bigger smile on my face.
Zayn’s eyes narrow. “Liar,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I shift my weight, hoisting my left leg up a few inches to rest the bottom of my foot on the wall behind me. “I can’t hear you, Zayn.”
Zayn’s a few feet from me, and it only takes a handful of seconds before I feel his body on mine. His hands are on either side of my hips, resting on the wall behind me. His head leans toward mine as he gets ready to whisper something into my ear. My knees are weak just thinking about it.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zayn.”
A low growl escapes from his mouth. “If I didn’t know any better, you wanted us to get lost in this maze. You want people to see us, to keep telling yourself that whatever this is isn’t real.”
I lift my hips slightly, putting pressure on his lower body. A slow moan echoes in my ear.
“What do you want from me, Princess?” Zayn’s whisper is a plea and is so unlike anything I’ve heard from him.
He asked the million dollar question. Zayn is not someone that I should be provoking in the middle of a pumpkin patch.
He hardly sees this thing we’re doing as a partnership. The only person he thinks of is himself.
Then why do I find myself staring at him and wishing he would care about me? Just a little bit. Looking into his eyes, I feel like he does, but it’s only temporary.
His eyes search mine, waiting for an answer. His gaze dips to my mouth again, and I know he’s waiting for me to make the next move.
Finally, I release a sigh, a small whimper with it. I look down at his mouth, then back up to his eyes.
“Kiss me,” I say, maintaining eye contact, putting the ball in his court.
My first thought is that he’s not going to do it. Zayn is staring at me, not muttering a word. My second thought is that we shouldn’t do this. We’ve already kissed once, and I can’t get that off my mind. Before I’m able to think of a third thought, Zayn closes the gap and presses his lips to mine.
When our lips connect, he’s still hesitant. There is still space between us that I’m internally begging to be closed. Our kiss isn’t as deep as I want it. I want more. I need more from him.
I find his neck with my right hand and pull him toward me, tilting my head to let him in more. Zayn’s left hand finds its way to my hip as his right hand moves to grasp my jaw. His tongue explores mine; they dance like we’ve done this a million times before.
His left hand trails up my body, landing on my breast. Using his palm, he massages over my shirt.
A small moan finds its way out of my mouth.
Zayn shifts the hand that was gripping my jaw to the back of my neck, somehow finding ways to deepen our kiss even more.
And it’s in this moment that I realize that I’m ruined.
Zayn is leaving me utterly ruined because nothing can compare to this.
The passion of his lips pressed against mine, the fire between us, it’s nothing like I’ve experienced before.
And because of that, I don’t want to stop, I don't want to let him go.
Zayn pauses, separating his lips from mine. Our breathing is labored. Our cheeks flushed red. He rests his head on mine once again.
“Why can’t I resist you? The moment we are alone and you look at me like that…” Zayn says, his eyes staring directly into mine. “I find myself drawn to you,” he adds with a whisper.
“Like a magnet,” I say, my face warm from the blush creeping up my neck.
Zayn takes a step back, creating a bit of breathing room between us.
He chuckles and runs his right hand through his hair, his gaze momentarily dropping to the ground.
When he looks back up at me, he smiles. A real smile.
I take a mental picture. This is the first time I’m getting a peek into the real Zayn Barnes.
“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” Zayn says as he takes my hand in his and pulls me along.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I say. We’ve barely spent time together.
“Start at the beginning.” Zayn looks at me and my stomach does a tumble. I truly wish it’d stop doing that.
“Um, okay. I grew up in Indiana with Cassie and my mom. We didn’t live too far from the city, but we hardly traveled there. I had a typical childhood, but my mom wasn’t around a lot. Cassie helped raise me.” I shrug and keep my eyes trained on my shoes.
“What was high school Annie like?”
“Embarrassing.” I laugh. “I spent too many nights obsessing over gossip articles and stalking actors on social media.”
Zayn looks at me with raised brows and I have to shake my head and cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from full-on giggling. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s the whole reason why I’m here.”
“With me? In this corn maze we can’t find our way out of?” Zayn teases.
I bump my shoulder into his and throw him off balance. “No, in Los Angeles, Z.”
“I can picture younger Annie.” Zayn shrugs while his lip turns up in a smirk.
“Oh, yeah? What was high school Zayn like?”
“I also spent too many nights obsessing over gossip articles,” he says with a straight face.
“Oh, someone alert the media, Zayn has jokes.”
Zayn pulls on my hand to bring me closer to him as he spins toward me to wrap his other arm around my waist.
My breath is stolen as I meet his chest and look up to see him staring at me with a look that I can’t quite read. It’s almost like he’s surprising himself.
“High school Zayn would never imagine he’d be walking through a corn maze with the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.”
My mouth parts, and I know I should say something, anything, in this moment.
But I can’t find the right words to express how all this is starting to feel like something more and how much I’m leaning toward wanting it to be.
Does he say these things to rile me up? To lead me on?
Or is he starting to feel the same way as me, starting to feel that us fake dating may be getting complicated if feelings are involved?
Zayn’s hand moves from my waist to cup my jaw, and he runs his thumb up and down.
I lean into him and close my eyes for a brief moment, relishing his touch.
There’s the sound of rustling corn husks near us.
He drops his hand from my face, takes a step back, and clears his throat.
His cheeks are flushed once more. I’m glad to see that he’s affected just as much as I am.
“Come on, let’s find our way out of this maze and go home.”