Chapter 27 Ten Years Earlier #3
“Ha ha ha,” I say, forcing my own smile away. “You won’t get caught, trust me. Just sneak out again before they wake up and my mum won’t need to use her wooden spoon on you.”
He drops the smile and looks at me seriously.
“Gianna, my problems won’t disappear after tonight. I’ll still have to go home and face him tomorrow.”
“I know,” I say quietly, grasping his hand tighter. “But I just really don’t want you going back there now.” I look up into his eyes and give him the best puppy-dog eyes I can muster. “Please. Stay the night with me? It’s my birthday.”
His eyes search mine, and I see the moment he gives in because they soften and he lets out an amused breath.
“Fine. But if I get a second beating tonight from your dad because he catches me in your room, I hope you know it’s your fault.”
I laugh as the tension I was carrying in my shoulders lifts. I practically bounce the rest of the way home.
When we’re a few houses away, I pull Zayn to a stop.
“That’s my house there,” I point to the red-brick Victorian-style house just visible through the leafy trees.
There’s a light on in the front window and I know my mum will be waiting up for me.
A brief rush of appreciation for her washes over me as I think about Zayn’s mum, who left him to fend for himself with a drunken adult man.
I push that thought to the side now though, as Zayn turns to look where I’m pointing.
“Okay, what should I do?”
“Wait here until I’ve gone inside. Give it a few minutes because Mum will probably ask me how my night was, then sneak around the corner there.” I point to the far side of my house. “The second window along is my bedroom.”
“Okay,” he says, leaning against the low brick-wall of my neighbour’s house.
“Do NOT go to the first window. It’s Tony’s. Make sure you duck when you go past because he’s likely still up playing video games.”
Zayn chuckles and crosses his hands over his chest. “Got it. Second window.”
I make quick work of walking up the front path and unlocking the front door, then make a show of waving behind me when I come into the foyer and see mum in her dressing gown wiping down the dining room table.
Her head snaps up when she hears me.
“Oh good, you’re home. I was about to call.”
“Yep, I’m home!”
I unwrap my scarf and exaggerate a yawn, taking a few steps down the hall toward my bedroom.
“How was your night at Anna’s, cara mia? What did you girls do?” She rinses her cloth in the sink and peers over her shoulder at me. With a sigh, I force myself to stop at the doorway, knowing that the sooner I get her questions out of the way the sooner I can escape to my room and to Zayn.
“Good, Ma. We just watched a movie. Listened to music. The usual stuff.”
“Oh?” She wrings out the cloth and places it neatly across the sink. “Did you give Jane the cannolis?”
“Yes. Mrs Johns said thank you very much.”
Mum nods and walks over to where I stand. “Good. Now off to bed, cara mia. It’s late.” She kisses me on the cheek and watches as I head down the hallway before she heads off to bed herself. Thank God my parents’ room is at the front of the house.
I hear shooting noises through Tony’s closed door as I pass, confirming my suspicion that he’s still awake on his Xbox, then I quickly open my door and fling on the light.
I pick clothes and shoes up off my floor in record time and shove them into my wardrobe before rushing over to the window.
Pulling back the curtain, I can’t stop the smile from splitting my face when I see Zayn waiting for me.
It takes me a few minutes to open my window and pry off the fly screen as quietly as possible. When Zayn’s finally in and my window is shut again, I turn to find him standing in the middle of my bedroom, turning on the spot slowly as he takes in my personal space.
An unexpected wave of embarrassment crashes over me.
It didn’t occur to me earlier that Zayn would actually see my bedroom, the one place that is full of all things me.
My pink walls, the shelves that hold all the books I’ve collected since I was a kid.
My photo wall that’s a mix between photos of me with friends and family and pictures of celebrities I’ve cut out of magazines.
I wait quietly with my bottom lip between my teeth for him to finish his perusal, and when he does, he stops spinning to face me.
“I love your bedroom,” he says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s so… you.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief and stare up at him.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
I grab the TV remote off my desk.
“Here. Find something to watch.” I hand him the remote and pull open my pyjama drawer, my eyes landing on the new pair my parents bought me for my birthday. A dorky-but-cute Harry Potter set. I grab them. “I’m just going to get changed and wash my face.”
I slip out to the bathroom and get ready at the speed of light. The thought of Zayn, laying on my bed, in my bedroom, sets my blood on fire like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
By the time I’m opening my door and slipping back into my bedroom, my heart is beating around my ribcage like a jackhammer.
Zayn is laying on my bed fully clothed, bar his shoes, watching American Pie.
“It’s the only movie I could find,” he says as I switch the light off and walk over to my bed.
Zayn’s only illuminated by the glow of the TV, but I can still see the nervous fidget of his hand in his lap as I approach and crawl onto the bed beside him.
It’s only a single bed, so it’s going to be a tight fit, not that I mind at all.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just Zayn, your boyfriend, who you spend time with every day. Nothing to be nervous about.
“It’s pretty cold.” I shiver as an unusual shyness comes over me. “Wanna get under the covers?”
When he nods, I pull the quilt up and we tuck our legs under, then I sidle up to him like I was earlier on Anna’s couch. Except now that we’re alone in my bed, it feels a lot more intimate. He tucks an arm around me and I rest my cheek on his chest as we silently watch the movie.
“What’s your bedroom like?” I ask after a few moments.
I’ve tried to picture the space Zayn lives in, but it’s hard.
If he had a normal upbringing, I could imagine shelves lining his walls filled with books, a double bed to fit his tall body that seems to be getting taller every day, and a messy desk where he would sit and study like he does under the gazebo. I know that isn’t his reality, though.
“My room is just my bed and my clothes, Gianna. Trust me it’s nothing special.”
“It has one special thing in it.”
I look up at him. I can see the reflection of the TV dancing in his dark irises. “Oh yeah?” he asks with a smirk, knowing where I’m going with this. “What’s that?”
“You.”
I peck him on the cheek like the chicken that I am and settle back in against his chest. For all my bravado earlier, I can’t bring myself to make the first move on Zayn now.
The fight with his mum’s boyfriend obviously killed the mood I was hoping for tonight, but I had every opportunity to bring it back to life right now and I couldn’t.
What if he doesn’t want to have sex with me?
Zayn has been nothing less than a gentleman around me. Even when our make-out sessions have gotten heated, he’s never let them get out of hand. Never tried to push me for more like I know other boys at our school do to their girlfriends.
Is there a reason for that? Does he not want me like that? Or is he just waiting for me to act first?
Has he had sex with anyone else before?
It’s something I’ve been too shy to ask him, but even the thought of it now makes my stomach cramp worse than when my period’s due.
He told me he’s never had a girlfriend before, but I’m not naive enough to think that automatically means he hasn’t had sex.
I suddenly hate any imaginary girl that may have touched my boyfriend before.
“I like being in your room,” he says quietly, pulling me from my thoughts. I take a quick peek back up at him but his eyes are fixed on the TV. “I feel like I get to see another side of you that no one else does.”
“Do you like that side?”
“I love it,” he says reverently, stealing my breath from my lungs.
“I love having you here,” I grip him tighter. “This is how I want to spend every night for the rest of my life.” The words spilled out of my mouth with an unknown force, but I don’t regret them. It’s the truth.
Zayn goes still beneath me.
“That sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal,” he teases. “Are you promising me forever, Gianna?”
“Longer than that.”
I finally tip my head up, and before I can back out, I crush my lips to his.
The kiss starts slow but firm as Zayn’s hand finds the back of my neck and draws me in closer against him.
I tangle my legs with his, and the knowledge that we’re actually alone in my bed makes a fire ignite inside me, spreading from my stomach to the tips of my toes.
My blood scorches me from the inside when Zayn deepens the kiss.
The hot glide of his tongue against mine sends a wave of desire through me so strong I don’t know what to do with it.
The pressure has been building between us for weeks and I feel like I’ve lost control of my own body when it starts to act of its own accord, rubbing firmly up against Zayn.
My heartbeat drops like a dead weight into my core when I feel something hard press back up against me.
Zayn pulls away from me, panting. It’s then I realise I’m panting just as hard as we stare into each other’s eyes. A smile spreads across my lips.
“Gianna,” Zayn says, his voice ragged, as I place my hand against his chest. He’s propped up on his forearm and we both lay on our sides facing each other. “Are you, uh, do you want to… you know?”