Forbidden

Chapter twenty-five

'Is he even capable of feeling sorry?'

That's what I've been thinking the whole day now. It's so exhausting to understand him and his actions. Sighing I ran a hand through my curly hair leaning my head at the headboard of the bed being done for now with thinking about that moment where his stoic, stricken facade was pulled off and instead it leaked with vulnerability which I could bet was just as true as his evil side.

After he left, he came back when he remembered that I was alone in his garage and could 'easily escape', notice the sarcasm, but I was still sitting on the floor while he was ordering for me to go to my room because he would leave again for "work".

During that brief moment he spoke to me he was back to his usual self, that cold and vacant eyes self that would hurt you without remorse, not looking my way as if I wasn't worth his time. I was used to that though, and it didn't bother me, it made me feel solaced because now I felt more like myself.

+

Next morning I see him only for a few moments before he leaves again. He hadn't made me sleep in his room.

While I had to stitch one of my palms and change the bandages again, luckily they didn't sting anymore, I've come to conclusion not to get that emotional again. Now I've taken a shower, ate breakfast and rested a bit.

Since I have nothing better to do, I find myself walk to his office because I was all the time intrigued with what's inside. The door isn't locked. It's a big room, the walls a light grey, a large desk made of wood, a pc, a showcase with books was on the side, two chairs and a little table in front of the desk like they have it in the offices of CEO's. Even a black sofa is there.

I sit down the chair and smile lightly thinking of myself as a boss and it smelled like Zayn.. 'Anyway focus' I remind myself trying to get any information wanting to open the drawers to no luck.

The thin white pc has a password, so I was about to go back downstairs but my eyes spot a simple black notebook under some decoration. With a deep breath I take it flicking through the pages and nothing but numbers were scribbled in a weird way which made no sense, I find his name and surname written there as well.

"Zayn Malik." I mumble and remember that I haven't known his surname until now. I don't know how old he is either."Malik." I whisper again with a frown. It was a foreign and beautiful sounding surname, I had a thought that he has eastern roots but I wasn't sure.

'You kissed a guy without even knowing his full name.' My lovely subconscious chided.

I kissed a gang leader I think that's more disturbing. I thought back. More than one time. Which reminds me how we always ignore that that ever happened and on multiply occasions. It doesn't get awkward.

My perturbed thoughts gets interrupted when I hear Zayn from downstairs. I quickly let the weird notebook back at its place, stalking off to my room.

Just as I was opening the door I hear him say, "Come here." in an exhausted tone.

Closing my eyes and sighing I turn around and avoid his stare.

"We're going out." he states and makes me follow him to his room.

He hands me one of his black hoodies, not even telling me what to do with it, because I know what he wants. I have to wear it. He's wearing a white v-neck and black skinnies with boots. I leave to get ready myself.

+

When he said we'll go out I hadn't thought that this would be a shopping spree. What the incentive to this was I had no idea. Maybe to get our minds away from everything.