how to love // z. m.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"Oh, God. Not you again."

This was what Zayn said when he walked out to the stage and saw me behind the island of the makeshift kitchen in an apron and a chef's hat.

He looked like he was about to be sick, but I just stood there, posed with one hand on my hips and the other grasping a spatula, smirking.

"How do yah do, my good British man?" I said using a very fake and stereotypical Southern accent, not caring that right now, thousands --- if not millions, because of One Direction being on the show today --- of people had their eyes plastered on me and Zayn via their television.

His jaw was clenched and it was obvious he was still mad at me, and so I walked closer to him and whispered, "Not on live TV, please." His tightened muscles didn't budge. "Do it for the fans." This got him to take a deep breath and relax, if not just a little.

He really does love his fans.

"Okay, Zayn," I began, grabbing the spare chef's hat and apron that I'd gotten for him and held it out for him. "Put these on." He just stood there, staring at them in disgust, and I looked sideways at the cameras. "Looks like someone is a bit embarrassed to do this."

I winked at the cameras and then set down the hat. Then I unfolded the apron, waving it out so that it was in its correct form, and then grabbed the part that goes over your head and around your neck. Zayn just stood there, incredibly still, glaring at me as I put it on him, and then I walked behind him and tied the strands.

"You look lovely, mate," I said, patting his back teasingly as I mocked his accent. "And now for the hat."

I puffed it up really big and put it on his head. I brought my fingertips to my lips and kissed them, saying, "Muah!" like a French chef, and then clapped my hands together.

"Now, today, folks, we are going to make---" I looked over at the fridge and opened it up, seeing milk, fruits, and ice. "---smoothies! Zayn, do you like smoothies?"

He was silent, leaning against the island.

"Come on," I sighed. "You can't ignore me forever."

He rolled his eyes and stood straight. "Yes, Toni. I love smoothies."

"That's better." I smiled. "What's your favourite flavour?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging.

"Everyone has a favourite, right guys?" I called out to the cameras, but I obviously didn't get an answer. "Right. Anyway. How about..." I looked back into the fridge. "Wild Berry."

"Only you would choose that, Toni," Zayn huffed. I grinned at him, and for a split second, he started to smile, too. But then he realized what he was doing and shook his head, frowning again.

I grabbed as much of the fruit that I could --- apples, pears, bananas, peaches, strawberries, blueberries, etc. ---, and then put them on the table. While I did this, Zayn grabbed the rest --- a watermelon, avocados, raspberries, acai berries, oranges, grapes, etc. --- and set them down next to my own fruit.

"Okay, I hope we have a big enough blender for all of this," I said nervously, and Zayn smirked.

He actually smirked.

That's technically a smile.

I quickly found the blender, and thankfully, it was huge.

"This..." I patted the top of it. "is a very big blender." I pressed the on button, just to see how well it would do, and you couldn't even see the blades anymore, because it was so fast. "Yikes. Fast, too."