Hating to Loving: A Zayn Malik Fan Fiction

Chapter Seventeen

"No offense, Zendaya, but the only person who could help you is yourself."

Switching into a glare mode, I shifted my eyes and stopped short on Zen, who had his elbows propped on the dining table before me, his chin resting on his supporting palms. Yeah, like hell he still needed to tell me that. I'm not dumb, if it isn't obvious enough.

I let out a huff before leaning back against the cold, hard wood of the chair and crossed my arms over my chest, wondering about other stuff, instead of what he was trying to get me to ponder about.

Hey, I should probably get like, sixty-nine cats when I'm in my late fifties (if I even survive-slash-live-slash-suffer that long) so I wouldn't die alone in my apartment and have them as perfect companions! That would work well, since I suppose I have no fate―no fate at all―with boys, and life, and love.

"Zendaya, are you listening to me?" Yes, idiot, I am, but you're the biggest distraction to my thoughts, you dumbass? Rolling my eyes in frustration, I let out another huff and squeezed my eyes shut from refraining a glare being shot at him by me. I have to kick that habit off as soon as possible, I mean it.

However, just as I was about to move further into my thoughts about cats, and life, and boys, and love, Zen produced the dumbest sound I've ever heard in my whole existence in this cruel, cruel, weird ass world full of utterly weird ass, crappy humans.

I couldn't control my eyelids that had flew open at that noise―much less control the dominating glare of my eyes. "I heard you, donkey ass kong, thank you very much. I would've never said a word if you hadn't made that sound."

He flashed me a smile of triumph before pulling his lips into a straight line, and letting go of them, producing yet another sound―one that sounded a thousand times better―that also irritated the hell out of me. Usually, Zen only does that when he's ready to do something, or say, and it never ends well so I sense something fishy going on, and I don't know if I want to know about it. And right now, I'm a hundred percent positive I'm actually weighing on the 'I don't want to know' side.

"Yeaaaah," I slowly rose up from the chair, darting my eyes all over what was visible to my eyes, just making sure to not look directly at Zen as I got up to avoid awkwardness, my best best best friend, "I'm going up to rest, so like, bye―"

He grasped onto my arm, though loosening up a little when my eyebrows furrowed together at the sudden clamp of his fingers around my arm, resulting in a little bit of pain though bearable. I grounded my teeth, why is he doing this now? "You, get yo' ass on the chair and listen to what I'm about to say."

"What are you going to say?" I asked, bluntly and dumbly, plopping back down on the chair with a long, drawled sigh. I squeezed my droopy eyelids shut, trying to focus on what he's about to say―I'm exhausted after another long day of school.

Well, I can say that day after day and not get tired because it's a fact, but there's still a few weeks left to graduation, so, I haven't gotten a choice but to really carry on with this. Do you understand when I say school is a dumbfuck in the most genuine, most sincere way possible?

Yes?

Well, all I can say is that we're on the same page.

No?

Well, all I can say is that YOU SHOULD GO TO―

―Wikipedia and search them shit up because we ain't on the same page.

"That is precisely why I told you to listen to what I'm about to say, smartass," he rolled his sarcastically before giving his head one light shake, probably to clear his mind off about other shit while me on the other hand, just wanted to meet my other half and sleep on it. Yes, my bed. I allowed my ass to slide down further into the seat, and sunk deeper on it.