Hating to Loving: A Zayn Malik Fan Fiction

Chapter Fourteen

Zayn:

"Don't worry, she's just a little too weary these days. She has been stressing out so this is the result."

What does she have to stress over about? I hope it's not me, because I have a strong feeling it's of me. Oh, shit. So does that mean I'm indirectly directly the cause of her...becoming like this?! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK. Here's come the guilt. Hell, hell, hell!

God damn, Zayn, you sound like a motherfucking chick. What's up with you? Some weird ass voice popped up in my head, making me roll my eyes internally at myself. Sometimes, I swear to God, I am so fucking done trying to be cool. Like, I can seem cool, but sometimes it's just so fucking tiring trying to keep up with this nonchalant attitude, ugh fuck.

"Okay," I crossed my arms over my chest, my gaze not leaving Zendaya's face. "So does she need to be sent home or something?"

"Yes," she agreed, pulling off her white, rubber gloves―the kind of gloves I totally despised because of the noise it produces when it's coming off someone's hands; I mean, the sound of condoms coming off my dick doesn't even sound like that. Sometimes. "But we should probably call her parents―"

"Wait, no," I interjected in time, as she pulled the telephone up to her ear, ready to dial for Zendaya's home number. I mean, I was probably about ninety-nine point nine percent certain there would be no one home, not her older brother or her Mom, but I just didn't want to risk it. There's a reason why I'm here. I can send her home. And, while she's still passed out, take care of her.

"I'll take her home," I assured her, though it doesn't seem like she seemed very certain about going with my idea. Fuck, woman. Just stop pondering and say yes already. Fuck school, Zendaya's more important, man.

And I'm totally crazy over her because I've never really really liked liked anyone. Hell. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Ugh. Why don't guys in fictional story books make this situation sound so bloody feminine-ish? Jesus. This really makes me sound like a chick. God, I can't even help myself. Crap.

"I'm sorry, young man, but you still have to carry on with your lesso―" I cut her off.

"There's no one home. Her Mom told me to take care of her and if she's ill send her home. So all you need to help me do is give my teachers a letter informing them that I've sent Zendaya home and that I'd be back in school tomorrow. If Zendaya's feeling better, that is. Hey brother and her Mom are overseas, you see."

Fuck, 'you see'? Bloody hell, I hate myself. However, I must say. I sounded pretty convincing so I hope she buys it. Really. I mean, come on. Sure, that was a lie but did it sound like a lie, besides the 'you see' that betrayed it?

No, right?

Good.

She shot me a look as though she was thinking fucking hard about it before nodding, "All right. Will do. Please be sure to bring her back home, safe."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, I will. Thanks, bye," I scooped Zendaya back into my arms before running out of the room, and rushing down the empty hallway. I still don't understand how come Zendaya can weigh as light as a feather. Seriously. What does she eat?

Rushing out of the school, I thanked the Lord I'd drove to school with Uncle's new BMW. Well, at least I can do some speed driving for valid reasons now. Buckling Zendaya into the seat, I hurried over to the driver's seat and buckled up.

Then the next minute I was on the road already. 

Okay, so the drive was less than five minutes considering I'd driven at a hundred. I don't know, okay. Sometimes about Zendaya drives me this crazy. It can't be helped.