Idol (Zayn Malik)

Chapter eighteen - Our Moment

"Hey! Stop talking like me!" I laughed. "Either that or I'll start talking like you".

"I can't take it! You're too American!" He was cracking out.

"Oh, as if you didn't love it. You love my Americaness."

"I indeed do. And you love me"

Awkward silence.

"Well, yes, your British accent is quite attractive. It's too ill." I tried to joke to get out of the awkward situation.

"That's what the girls say" He said intensifying his accent this time and I cracked out.

Zayn had drunk like 4 sodas and 2 small bottles of juice. I had given up on eating Nutella bread and had started eating the Nutella alone.

"I really don't get how you can eat that enormous amount of Nutella and still manage to look so fit" He stated and I blushed.

"Genetics" I managed to respond with the Nutella spoon still in my mouth.

"You're too cute" He giggled.

***

"OH MY GOD NO ZAYN STOP" I was cracking out.

"I'll post it if you don't say that I'm the hottest one in the band!" He threatened me.

"Okay, okay. You, Zayn Malik, are the hottest one in One Direction. Now delete it!"

Zayn had taken the grossest picture of me while eating Nutella. Although it was only a screenshot, he was threatening me to post it to his twitter/instagram if I didn't say what he asked me to.

"No" He bursted out in laughter "Say that I'm the best in the world."

"Okay. You, Zayn Javaad Malik, are the hottest and bestest human being in the wholedamn world" I confessed and he smiled.

"Right, I won't post it. But I'll keep it for personal pleasure" He stated and I raised my eyebrow. "I mean to smile once in a while... Astrid Taylor, who would say that you were a dirty girl!" He joked but I didn't laugh. He did laugh though. His eyes were too sparkly.

Damn, I was falling for that boy. I was falling hard.

***

"SAY IT!" I demanded and he laughed out loud.

"I CAN'T. French is too goddamn complicated!" He screamed and we laughed.

"Astrid Taylor" He pronounced it in an adorable British-French accent "est la meillieur du monde."

"I think you mispronounced it." I smiled.

"No." He joked "Call me Zayn the Frenchman Malik" He paused "No, wait, don't call me so."

***

"You know" He asked "Since the time when I didn't talk to you for a week, I feel guilty"

"Why would you feel guilty? We cleared up that it was all right. No hate. I think that it is clear, right?" I tried to make him understand.

"Yes, yes." He paused. "But I gotta win you, Astrid Taylor. And you not hating me doesn't mean that you will want more than that, and I do."

What does that mean?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Zayn, I..."

"No, no. Don't say a word. I'll fix everything" He smiled sweetly and I did the same.

What game were we playing?

***

"I don't know. I never felt OK at school. There were these kids messing with me during the elementary and middle school. It was in my senior year when I met my real friends" I explained and he nodded.