Rogue (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 7: Damage

"James hit you, didn't he?" I giggled at the thought of it. Although I had no confirmation or any memory whatsoever, it gave me a happy feeling this way.

Zayn met my eye with a proud grin on his face. When did getting yourself a busted lip become a glorious thing?

"Well, he thought he had a reason good enough."

"It's all a blur after I get to the restroom."

"No problem. What am I for?" He shifted around comfortably on my bed and spoke further. "James thought I was the one who came on to Jessica and so the whole slam-on-the-counter and elbow-strikes."

"Oh my God." I was horrified at the extent of violence these men could achieve. It was just a kiss. He could have killed Zayn.

"Jessica is his girlfriend. So from his point of view, it's quite alright."

"Are you justifying him? He hit you. Almost to your death."

"Nah." He took it casually. "James can't do that. His brother Liam wouldn't let him. Plus you won't get this, Miss Innocent. I think you better worry about how many homeless there are at the moment in Manhattan alone. That's what you're good at."

He end up teasing me no matter what he was talking about. He always led the conversation to me.

"Shut up."

People make me so annoyed. People are just so stupid. Trust me, I know.

"Make me."

"Oh, I could. If I had a knife."

I threatened him with a playful vengeance.

"Zayn?" It was a moment before any of us spoke, after our smiled faded away. "Have you seen my phone?"

"Oh. That." The sudden discolouration of his handsome face told me something was up. Did I lose it last night?

"That what?"

"I'll get you a new one."

Seriously, what happened to me in just one night. I went from Miss Hermione Granger to a punk party girl with just a few, maybe a little more than that, scotch swigs. I'm so ashamed of my own doings and not remembering my birthday.

"What did I do to it now?" I sighed defeatedly.

"Threw it at James when you tried to save me. It end up in someone's apple martini. That probably explains the rip in your dress and the broken strap of your right foot heel."

"Woah. I managed to ruin my Steve Maddens too?"

With my head in my hands, I thought about what a badass I had been last night. And it was a foreign yet satisfying, only by a teeny tiny bit though, feeling. Like, I had something to cross off my bucket list: Be A Part Of My Own Version Of The Movie The Hangover. If anyone else has that on their list, I would kidnap them and torture them into crossing it off because me holding them at gunpoint and asking to do so would be a lot less emotionally painful than forgetting such an eventful ten hours of their life.

"It's okay. We can probably get you new ones. Next sale season, maybe."

He laughed and if I don't know better I would have said we bonded a little, over the tragedy of my torn Steve Maddens. But it was Zayn. He doesn't do bonding and getting along because it doesn't go with his bad boy image, I believed. I might have been wrong though, but I didn't consider so.

"Next sale season, maybe."

I smiled back and it struck me later, I tried to save him. Again. I'm never going to learn to mind my own business now, am I?

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