19. Annie
Annie
The moment I started running away from Zayn, I knew it’d lead to trouble. I just knew. Which is why, the moment I feel sand kick up in my direction, I don’t have to look back to know he’s chasing me.
“Annie, stop,” Zayn yells over the sound of the crashing waves.
“Make me,” I yell back, twisting my head to wink in his direction.
I continue running, my laughs blending with the sounds of the beach. It only takes Zayn a few more strides before he catches up with me.
His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls, twisting us around in a circle as our momentum slows. Laughter escapes both of us, the feeling of bliss pouring out as my feet touch the soft sand.
“I told you to stop.” Zayn’s breath is warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine, even in this summer heat.
I twist around in his arms until my chest faces his. Looking up, I can see the specks of green in his hazel eyes and the soft lines on either side of his mouth. A smile rests on his face. It’s a look I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing so far.
“You’re a mystery, Mr. Barnes.” I instinctively wrap my arms around his waist, feeling him tense under my touch.
“You’re...” Zayn hesitates, pulling me closer to him until my head meets his chest and his head rests on top of mine.
“I’m what?” I try to pull away, but it only encourages him to hold me closer.
Finally, after what feels like a million hours passes, he lets go of me and takes a step back. My arms fall back at my side.
“You’re more than what I originally thought.” And with that, he grabs my hand and starts walking us toward the parking lot.
“And that was?”
“I thought you were a people pleaser.”
I chuckle. “Yes, and?”
“And I thought you smiled too much, which isn’t a bad thing. You’re just the opposite of me.” He explains, shrugging as he drags me toward the car.
“You mean I’m not grumpy? Or frown all the time? Or storm out of rooms? Or—”
“Yes, but you definitely are something else,” Zayn interrupts, glaring at me, squeezing my hand a little tighter. The urge to say fuck it grows and grows with each tense touch, and I’m having a hard time keeping my hands to myself.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not at this moment,” Zayn responds, reaching for the handle to the car door to let me in. “Get in the car.”
“What happens if I don’t?” I tease.
“Annie...” Zayn pleads.
I pout for a moment, but then decide to appease him.
“Fine, fine.”
After getting in the car, I take a deep breath to center myself. Every time I’m near Zayn, I can’t stop thinking about our kiss. Is it terrible of me to want to do it again? It’s mutually beneficial, after all, and at this point, our rules are basically non-existent.
The entire car ride home, I catch Zayn stealing glances at me without him realizing I’m paying attention.
Every red light. Every stop sign. Every opportunity that he can take his eyes off the road, his gaze lands on me.
And when I look in his direction, it’s as if he senses he’s about to be caught because his head snaps forward and a light shade of red grazes his cheeks.
When we finally reach his apartment, he turns off the car but doesn’t move. Both hands stay on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from his grip.
“Zayn, what—”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off of you when we get inside, and I’m not sure what our rules are.” His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace as he keeps his attention on the wall in front of us.
“So don’t. Fuck the rules.”
I reach my hand across the console, placing it on his thigh like I did at the ice cream shop.
Starting above his knee, I inch my hand up his leg, stopping when I get to his groin.
Zayn allows his chin to drop to his chest. His eyes close as if trying to maintain the little bit of restraint he has left.
There’s no going back at this point. I’ve laid all my cards on the table. I move my hand again, this time reaching his length. A hiss escapes Zayn’s lips as I rub him over his jeans.
“Fuck, Annie. You’ve hardly touched me and I’m close. Do you see what you’re doing to me?” Zayn says as he throws his head back and lets out a groan. “Do you see how much you affect me?”
Barely a minute later, the ringing of my phone startles me, and I jerk my hand away from his pants. Zayn straightens his torso while running a hand through his hair. I dig in my bag, trying to find my phone amid various pens, a notebook, my wallet, and other random items.
“You should answer it,” Zayn prompts, gesturing to my phone.
A thin-lipped smile and a small nod is all I can muster in response. I hit accept on the screen and step out of the car. Zayn and I walk to the door together, heading toward the elevator.
“Hi, Marce,” I say, trying not to sound like I was just rubbing my fake boyfriend’s dick in a public parking lot.
“Anns! What are you up to? Want to come over tonight? Give yourself a break from Mr. Grumps?” Marcy asks. The sound of pans clashing resonates through the phone, indicating that it’s nearly dinner time.
“I, uh—” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Zayn watching me as we ride up the elevator.
He has his bottom lip tucked under his teeth, which just adds to my pent-up sexual frustration.
“I’m actually busy tonight.” Taking this window of opportunity, I glance at Zayn and although he’s shifted his gaze to his feet, there’s a small smile on his face and that alone sends a tornado of butterflies through my stomach.
“Busy? Doing what? What can you—oh, I see, you’re planning on fucking Zayn.” Marcy’s loud voice echoes from my phone speaker to the four walls of the elevator.
“Marcy Lynn,” I whisper-yell, knowing Zayn heard every word. How do I know? Well, as soon Marcy said those words, the elevator dinged, and when I looked over at Zayn, his eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed. Incredible timing.
“I’m just being a good best friend and calling it as I see it. Be safe. Love you. Okay, bye!”
Marcy immediately hangs up, leaving me in the entrance of the apartment unsure of what to do. We had a moment in the car, but what if it’s gone now? What if we snapped back to reality and Zayn realized he doesn’t want me like that? Or that we shouldn’t cross the line?
The door closes behind me as I try to shake the thought from my head.
My stomach feels like a giant pit just opened and I’m fidgeting, moving my hands, blinking too much, staring at the ground.
I’m not feeling like myself: confident, happy, sure of the situation that I’m in.
Not knowing if Zayn is reciprocating how I feel has me unsure if my advances were too much.
With caution, I turn to Zayn, expecting him to be growling in my direction, back to his grumpy self. Instead, he’s staring at the ground, avoiding eye contact. I knew I went too far.
“I’ll just be in my room for the night, you don’t have to worry about me,” I say, taking a step toward the hallway.
“Annie, wait.”
I pause, but I don’t turn around. I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to hold back tears right now after embarrassing myself.
“It’s fine, Zayn. I get it.”
“Get what?”
I sigh. “I know this is all fake, okay? I let my emotions get ahead of me. I went too far.”
Zayn’s hand wraps around my wrist. He tugs, just a little, to try to get me to turn around. I comply, not wanting this situation to escalate. But I keep my eyes on the floor.
He keeps pulling me toward him until his other hand finds my waist.
“Annie, look at me,” Zayn commands, and my knees feel like jello from the deep tone.
I lift my eyes, then lower them. Then lift again, as Zayn starts moving me, spinning us until I feel the hardness of the door on my back.
His hands trail from my waist to either wrist, holding on to them with a gentle grip.
Slowly, he moves my hands toward the ceiling, stopping when they are both above my head.
“Look at me,” Zayn repeats, softer this time. His voice is almost a plea and a gentle reminder that this version of Zayn is one that I’ve met briefly and have been hoping to meet again.
My cheeks are rosy. Heat radiates my entire body from his touch, his stare, his presence. I meet his gaze, the tears in my eyes no longer wanting to escape. My embarrassment fades until all that is left is my feelings for Zayn. My feelings, confusing as they may be, are real.
“Now, answer me this...” Zayn uses his knee to wedge in between mine, encouraging them to part. He then shifts his body, flushing his chest against mine as he leans closer to my face. Hovering next to my ear, his breath sends shivers down my spine as he whispers, “Does this feel fake to you?”
“I’m not sure,” I mutter.
“Not sure? We can’t be having that,” Zayn whispers. He removes his hands from my wrists and begins slowly moving them down my arms, causing goosebumps to follow in his trail.
I adjust my hands, wanting to touch him.
“Keep them there,” Zayn says in a low growl.
My hands freeze, and for a moment I’m in my head, wondering what’s about to happen. Here I am, with a man that I hardly know, and I’m pinned to a door. My chest rises and falls at a rapid pace as Zayn cruelly takes his time bringing his hands down my body.
His hands pause at the button of my jeans. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Good, because I don’t like you either. I’m just using you for your body,” I tease back, knowing full well it’s a lie.
A chuckle escapes his lip at the same time as he begins sliding my jeans over my hips and pushing them down my body.
“I’m okay with that, as long as you let me use yours.” He travels down my body now, peppering soft kisses on my chest, my torso, my hip. “You drive me insane,” Zayn admits in a whisper against my skin. “What was I before you?”
“Sane. Ten times more grumpy. Left alone with the company of your hand,” I reply, letting amusement and sarcasm lace my tone.
More chuckles as he pulls my underwear down, leaving the lower half of my body bare.
“I’m going to make you feel good and then maybe you’ll be nice to me. I’m not grumpy now, am I?” Zayn inquires, resting the palm of his hand above my most sensitive area, causing me to squirm. “Patience, Annie, all you have to do is ask nicely.”
“Please, Zayn,” I practically beg, needing him to touch me. To feel something other than his breath. To know that he wants this as bad as I do. That the weeks leading up to this means something. That all of our small interactions weren’t just for show.
I’m rewarded with a small movement to his palm, allowing his thumb to rest on my clit, pausing for me to ask again.
“Are you going to make me beg for it?” I ask.
“I’m debating, although I’m already on my knees and that feels like it would be a waste of effort on your part.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you know what you’re doing down—oh,” I gasp as Zayn brings his mouth to where his finger was.
“What was that?” Zayn says in between kissing me where I need it most.
My hands fall down and land on his shoulders, but he doesn’t comment on them. Not when he’s working on giving me the pleasure my body has been aching for.
Zayn’s hands wrap under each leg, prompting me to wrap them around his shoulders.
If anyone else pinned me against a wall, begging to go down on me, I would have wanted to be more comfortable, go to a bed or a couch or a counter, but for some reason, Zayn’s touch forces me to ignore all rationality, leaving only thoughts about him circling around my brain.
More, more, more. Like a chant, my thoughts echo in my head.
My hands tug at his hair, partly for balance but also to convey the passion I’m feeling for him at this moment.
Within seconds, I’m falling apart, my breathing ragged from the exhilaration of being with someone that should be forbidden.
But also that exact same someone bringing down every last barrier, who sees the masks I wear to maintain my positive appearance.
Zayn, although grumpy in nature and unapproachable, has a soft side to him. One that I’ve only seen a few times, either through passings inside our home or small glances while we are on our dates.
“I’m close,” I whisper, tugging harder at his hair as I focus on the rising pressure within me.
Zayn quickens his pace, pulling the hand that was stabilizing me away from my thigh and inserting two fingers into my folds, only causing me to arch my back at the sudden pressure.
My legs shake both at the pressure Zayn’s applying and the fact that my feet have not touched the ground since he started.
I gasp his name as I finish, my fingers loosening in his hair. Zayn removes his fingers and his mouth leaves me, his thumb replacing where his tongue was a moment ago moving in slow circles as I come down.
Slowly, using his hands, he helps my legs lower to the ground. Once I’m safely planted, Zayn stands up, moving his hand to grasp my neck toward him until our mouths clash. We kiss in a fury, reveling in what just happened and the line we just crossed.
I move my hand down his torso until I land on his cock.
“No,” Zayn mutters. “This was for you. I’m okay.”
“You don’t feel okay.”
His lips meet mine again. One of his hands grabs mine and moves it, interlacing our fingers.
Zayn moves his head backward, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Let’s watch a movie.”
“A movie? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” I glance down to the ground, my lower half still exposed.
“I’m thinking about you, if you must know, and I’m not trying to cross too many lines tonight. One is enough.”
“What are we doing, Zayn?”
“Hm?” Zayn mutters, his eyes tracking my hands as I pull up my pants. I gesture between us with my hands.
“This. This complicates things. I need to know what this means to you.” What I mean to him.
“I...I just want to take advantage of the time we have. Explore whatever is between us. Make you feel good...” Zayn’s lips meet mine again. “More than once, if I have the choice.”
“I don’t see why not. What harm can having a little fun for a few months have? We have until December after all...” I say, knowing the looming deadline of our relationship is still a little while away.
“Exactly.” Zayn wraps his arms around me. “We don’t have to label this. It can be what we want it to be. Then, come contract end, we end too. No hard feelings.”
Zayn pulls me closer to him. No hard feelings?
I don’t know if I can promise that, but I nod my head into his chest anyway.
I’m fairly certain I’m fucked and this isn’t going to end well, but I’d rather spend time with Zayn and grow to love him than ignore the pull between us and go back to what we were.