29. Annie
Annie
“Are you honestly not going to tell me what we are doing?” I ask Zayn when we get to the beach a few hours later. My arm is around his back, and he stiffens at the question.
“I planned a date for us.”
“Oh. Should I tip the media so they send photographers?” I look up at him as we reach the ice cream shop.
He shakes his head and opens the door for me. “No photographers, Princess. Just us.”
Oh. Again. What is this supposed to mean?
I stumble a bit walking into the shop, almost falling over myself because my thoughts are elsewhere.
“Hi, Annie! Hi Zayn!” Our favorite employee, Liam, greets us. “The usual?”
Before I can answer, like I normally do, Zayn talks. “Yes, one cup, two spoons. Thank you.” He hands his card over, and I’m frozen in place. What is going on?
“Thanks man.” Zayn takes the ice cream, grabs my hand, and walks us over to the bar.
We sit on stools today instead of our typical booth. He scoots close enough for our legs to intertwine, placing a hand on my knee. It’s warm and heavy, and my gaze drops to it.
He squeezes once, then moves to tilt my head up so my eyes meet his.
“Everything okay?” he asks, searching my face to see what’s wrong.
“I think so,” I whisper.
“You think so? Talk to me.”
“It’s just not our normal Friday, and we are at the ice cream shop. ”
He chuckles. “Well, today isn’t a normal day, Annie. I wanted to spend a day with my girlfriend, is that so bad?”
His girlfriend. He’s never called me his girlfriend in private. Not only that, but he leans toward me and plants a kiss on my cheek. Something he never does in public.
“G-girlfriend?” I stutter.
“It is our two month-a-versary.”
“Yeah, but you never call me that. At least, not when the media isn’t around.” I take a bite of the ice cream, hoping if I occupy my mouth, I’ll stop saying everything I’m thinking.
“But I’d like to.”
“You would?”
Zayn takes a bite, pondering my question for a moment. He laughs to himself, running his hand through his hair as his gaze drops to the floor.
“We already established that you are mine.”
“Are we doing this?” I ask.
“We are undoubtedly doing this.”
“Oh.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.
The last thing I ever thought would happen is Zayn admitting his feelings, or something along the line of his feelings, and us moving into something more than fake dating. Except that’s exactly what we did, and for some reason, my mind is just now catching up.
“Let’s play a game. Tell me three things you like about me.”
“Hm, three things?”
He nods in response.
“Okay. One, you always make me breakfast in the morning. Two, you ask me questions about my day. Three...” I take another bite of ice cream, thinking about what else I want to tell him. “Your smile is my favorite thing to see when I wake up in the morning.”
“Who knew you could be so nice?” Zayn teases.
“Hey!” I shove his shoulder. “I am the nice one in this relationship.”
“So, you admit this is a relationship.” He raises his brows in a challenge.
I chuckle.
“My turn for you. One, you have a habit of twirling your hair and it drives me insane. Two, whenever I see you, you’re always smiling. Three...” He pauses, then leans over to the right before smirking at me and saying, “your ass.”
“There he is, the Zayn I know and love.” My heart stops. I did not just say the ‘l’ word. Have I fallen in love with Zayn and just openly admitted that to him?
Zayn doesn’t say anything. He just leans toward me and plants yet another kiss on my forehead. I’m starting to become addicted to them. These kisses might be small and brief, but they are intimate and impactful.
“Let’s finish our ice cream, I have plans for us, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. I’m excited.” I smile and take spoonfuls of ice cream until the cup is empty.
“Okay, let’s go.” Zayn grabs my hand, and I follow him out the door.
I thought we might turn left out of the shop to go back to the car, but instead he turns to the right, toward the beach.
After what he shared with me about his ex, I didn’t think he’d want to spend any more time at the beach than he had to.
I understand what it’s like to have bad memories in a place.
You don’t want to be there, or near there.
You don’t want to remember what you felt like in that moment when grief took over.
I know what it feels like to be heartbroken, to have someone that leaves and you have to pick up the pieces. It’s no wonder he shut everyone out.
We walk in silence, only the sounds of the waves crashing, the birds above, and the occasional song from a person on the trail breaking the silence. His hand still grips mine, his thumb moving on its own accord, almost comforting in a way. I’m not sure if it’s for me or more for himself.
I think he’s nervous. Wherever he’s leading me, it’s not far, but far enough that we have to walk for ten minutes. His gaze keeps bouncing between the water on the left, me, and the street to the right.
Finally, I see an umbrella in the distance. It’s bright blue, hard to miss. The closer we get, the more I can see. A white floral picnic blanket is on the ground, with a basket on top of it.
He planned a beach picnic for us.
I don’t know how much of my heart to give him. He already has too much.
But maybe that’s okay? Maybe we weren’t meant to be forever, but only for now. Maybe the world put us together to heal, to help each other when we both needed it most.
When I look at him, I no longer see the man I first met.
The furrow in his brow is no longer permanent.
It’s a small line that only appears when he’s actually upset or angry, or sometimes in his flirtatious moods when he’s trying to remain serious.
That’s my favorite. He no longer looks sad.
His mouth isn’t always turned down, his eyes no longer cast downward, his posture no longer sulking.
Now, he’s brighter. You can look at Zayn and see that he is happy, or at least happier than he was. He smiles back at you, he waves, he remembers your coffee order, he cooks for you, he texts you every day, he asks you questions, he cares.
He’s still the same Zayn, still grumpy at times, but he’s happy and he’s mine.