how to love // z. m.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Forty-Nine

Sure, I felt pretty stalker-esque, sitting here at a little table by myself, sipping some bland coffee that I'd ordered on a whim to loosen suspicion, watching him through my dimmed sunglasses. But, hey, what's a girl in need to do?

It's been about a week since we all returned from California, give or take a day. Zayn hasn't texted, called, or visited me, and while I've tried to reach him, he never answered. I'd tried all of the other guys' cells, and they would talk to me, but the moment I mentioned Zayn, they would stop replying to my texts or say they're going through a tunnel and are loosing signal (nice one, Harry).

Out of the corner of my eye, my engagement ring glimmered in the light of the cafe. I've gotten used to that fact of being wed to David in a few short years. Early mornings and stormy, dreary late evenings --- right now being the latter --- are the perfect times to come to this place. It's extremely relaxing and calms nerves.

And the best thing is, it's just down the street from Times' Square.

My cell phone buzzed silently on the table, but I still felt the vibrations on the palm of my hand, which I had placed firmly on the table before me, the other clutching the coffee that I was only tolerating.

I tapped 'open message' on my phone and glanced down at it, reading the message.

We're gonna be starting in 30. You got him?

I looked back up at 'him', who happened to be Zayn, if you haven't guessed (I mean, who else would it be? Ron Paul?), and saw him still sitting there, his tea untouched, and his face in his hands. My heart pretty much broke in half. The only thing keeping me from collapsing right then and there was the assurance that I would make this right. In 30 minutes.

I texted my response as quickly as possible.

About to speak up.

I stuffed my phone into one of my shorts' front pockets and grabbed my coffee, standing up. I pushed in my chair, making a loud, nails-on-a-chalkboard-like noise. I marched (not literally, of course) up to Zayn's table and set my mug down, taking a seat across from him.

I folded my hands on the table and sat up straight, waiting for him to look up, but he didn't. He just sat there in silence. I bit my lip and looked around.

Well, this is awkward.

I reached over slowly and tapped one of his hands, which were still covering his face. His hands fell limp to the table with a little boney thump, but when I looked back up to his face, he still had his eyes closed.

"Zayn?" I said softly, and his features tightened up a bit. He slowly opened his eyes.

To put it nicely, and honestly, he looked like he was a wreck. An admittedly very attractive wreck, but a wreck all the same.

"Toni," he breathed, forcing a slight smile. "Hi."

"Hey," I gently said. "How are you?"

"Never better."

I had to bite my lip to keep it from wobbling, and then I nodded. "That's... uhm, good. I guess." He nodded also. This conversation, I decided, was way too cliche for my taste. "Alright, let's just cut down to the chase."

He squinted a little bit, looking up at me in confusion. I gave him a sympathetic look. He looked like he hasn't slept in days. He probably hasn't.

"I know why you're so upset."

Zayn froze for a second, his head down. His eyes turned to look up at me, though. "...Really?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just because I'm getting married doesn't mean we're going to stop doing all those crazy and fun things that we always did these past few months."

He laughed quietly, dryly. "That's not..." The strange smile that he had on his face faltered. "Yeah. I guess we still could." He shrugged, and for the first time, looked at me so that I knew for a fact I had his full attention. "I guess I was just jealous for your attention. But I'm more mature about that now."

"Mhm," I scrunched up my nose. "You sure don't look like one of those high school boys who wear the same clothes for a month without showering."

"Hey!" he laughed, gently hitting my foot with his under the table. Just the fact that he genuinely laughed made my day ten times better.

I pressed my lips together and narrowed my eyes, grabbing onto the ends of the table. I hit his foot with mine, and he widened his eyes.

"Footsie war? Really?"

I giggled. "Kidding." I remembered the text, and the time, and my expression changed to a normal, easy-going one. "Do you want to go do something?"

"Like what?" he asked, his mood improving my the second.

"Something..." I tilted my head, trying to find the perfect words. "a normal level of crazy."

"Is there such a thing?" Zayn raised his eyebrows and I grinned. "I assumed at least not with you, anyway."

"Maybe not," I said. "But I didn't plan this. I just learned about it. So it is a normal-crazy. Wanna go?"

Zayn looked down at his tea one more time, smiling.

"Yeah," he finally nodded. "I'd love to. As always."