Taken - Z.M

Chapter 47

Sorry I took so long. I was doing something.
**

Amber

I lean against the cold bathroom sink. Folding my arms. It's been 10 minuets since Liam told me he would bring me my clothes. Though while I've been waiting, I can't help but think about Zayn. I hope I didn't hurt him as much as he is portraying. I've been thinking a lot about his words.

'I think I love you.'

Keeps replaying over and over again inside my head, like a broken record player. I've always known I had these, feelings, towards him. Never as strong as he has ahead towards me. But the more I think about it, the more he comes into my mind, of how many times he has saved me.

Flash backs raid throughout my mind.

Where he ran up to me when I fell next to his car, when he first kidnapped me.

Carrying me out of his car to the warehouse.

Protecting me against Harry and Liam, along with Louis and Niall at the warehouse.

Calling a doctor to the hotel to wrap and help my foot.

Keeping me at his house while he figured out a plan to keep me safe.

Getting me out of Matts trap, while beating him up and escaping, dragging Niall along to.

He's like my super hero. And, I've done nothing for him. Nothing but break him, and hurt him.

He doesn't need me, he doesn't want me, he shouldn't. I'm no good for him. I'm nothing but, but, a dirtbag. A piece of dust in the world. That's all I should be to him.

"Knock knock." I hear Zayn chuckle on the other side of the door.

I look in the mirror and force a smile. Fixing my hair and straighten my shirt. I open the door and he furrows his eyebrows, looking down at me very worriedly.

"Have you been crying?" He steps in the bathroom and closes the door behind him with a thud, setting the clothes on the counter.

I look in the mirror again. My eyes do look red and watery. I guess I never noticed myself tearing up while thinking of how pathetic I am.

"No."

"Don't lie to me." He says with a cold voice.

"M'not." I force a bigger smile and nod, looking down.

I look back up after the tears in my eyes have dried. Zayn is leaning against the door, jaw clenched as he inspects me.

"Amber. I'm sorry-"

"No no, it's fine." I say with a preppy voice, shaking my head.

He bites his lip and looks down. Awkward silence takes over the room.

A piece of his raven hair falls down onto his forehead. He looks back up with teary eyes. Just as I was about to ask him why he is crying, he steps forward, and presses his lips against mine fast, cupping my face he pushes back, flipping me against the door.

My back hits the door, surely making a loud bang, but I couldn't care less. I need this. I want this. I love the feeling of his lips pressed against mine.

All the memories flood through my mind.

I love the way he talks, his slightly off Bradford accent. The way he plays with his cheek and lip in awkward situations. I love the way he walks, the way every back muscle he has flexes with every step. I love his hazel eyes, and how they get dark when his mood changes. Or how his stubble will grow out, covering his lower portion of the face in a dark 5 o'clock shave. The way he smells, it's like you can't get enough of him. I love the way he slightly touches me, as if I would break at any second, or as if I'm like a glass setting. I love how he shoves his hands in his pockets when he wants to touch or say something, but never can because he's afraid he will say something wrong, I love his smile, how his eyes crinkle, that's how you know it's a real smile. I think, I think I love him.