28. Annie
Annie
“How are you feeling about our date tonight?” Zayn rolls over on his side to face me.
We have been waking up like this for days, his arm wrapped around me.
“Should I feel a special way?” I ask, furrowing my brows.
Zayn slaps a hand to his chest and gasps. “Annie, princess of PR, forgetting about our two month-a-versary. I’m disappointed in you.”
I shove his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back. He starts laughing and pulls me closer to him. I let him, snuggling my head into the nook of his shoulder.
“Does this mean you’re doing something special for me?” I look up at him.
He runs his hand through my hair, twisting the strands as he makes his way toward the bottom, then starts over again. All of these intimate touches are enough to keep me in this bed all day.
“Maybe.” Zayn presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Now, let’s get up. I’m going to make you breakfast.”
“Or you can bring me breakfast in bed.” I grin and squeeze him a little harder.
“Nice try, Princess. Get up.” Zayn has the audacity to pinch my butt, causing me to squeal and jerk toward him.
“Fine, fine. What are you going to make me, anyway?” I ask as we walk to the kitchen.
“French toast. That okay?” Zayn moves through the kitchen, grabbing bread, sugar, eggs, and a few more items from the pantry.
“Of course. Want me to help?”
“No, you can sit there and watch.”
“Are you going to tell me what we are doing today?” I lean my elbows on the counter, catching my head in my hands.
“Nope, it’s a surprise.”
A surprise. Okay. After Zayn told me about his ex last night, I feel like we are a little bit closer. Just a little. He knows my past, I know his. It’s more than either of us expected to admit to one another, but we didn’t expect any of this to happen.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Zayn calls over his shoulder. I suppose I am being quiet.
“You,” I admit sheepishly.
Zayn looks at me, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. “Oh, is that so? Care to tell me what about?”
“No.”
“C’mon Annie, give me something,” he begs, picking up the bowl of batter and bringing it to the island to mix in front of me.
“I was just...” My head falls further into my hands. I’m all of a sudden embarrassed at opening up to him.
“You were just...” Zayn pokes at me.
I peek between my fingers and catch a glimpse of him biting his lip, staring at me, mixing the bowl of batter. His arms work in circles and my mind flashes to last night, when he was drawing circles on my body.
“I was just thinking about how all of this is unexpected. You and me.”
“Oh, yes, except I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me when you moved in.” He leans over and places a dollop of batter on my nose.
I roll my eyes and grab a napkin to wipe it off, laughing all the while. “You did not. If anything, you are the one that couldn’t resist me,” I tease; everything we have done has always been mutual, a pull from both of us.
“That’s true.” He glances at me and holds my gaze before looking back down. His eyes look so sincere, full of truth in what he just said.
“Well, let me at least make us coffee while you make those,” I say, hopping off the stool.
For the next little while, Zayn flips the toast, I make coffee, and we just talk. It’s so domestic, so normal, so us. Everything he tells me makes me laugh, from little jokes to stories from his childhood, it all shows me glimpses of him. Who he used to be. Who he can be again, if he wants to be.
“Alright, eat up.” Zayn smiles at me before sticking a piece of French toast in his mouth.