Strings and Schemes

Chapter 7

A knock at the door startles me. Zayn gets up, thanks whoever it is, and sends them on their way.

My eyes go wide. "Zayn, was someone here the whole time?"

He laughs. "No, it's just my staff. Someone comes in every few days to do a reset of the things I'm too lazy to handle but would eventually lead to silverfish invading my house. I keep up with the daily stuff, but the deeper cleaning? Not so much."

He rounds the corner, two cups of coffee in hand. "Figured since you're American, I'd never convert you to tea in the morning. And, after spending so much time there, I've become partial to coffee myself—but don't tell anyone. They'd probably revoke my British passport."

I smile. "How did you know how I take my coffee?"

He flashes his phone screen at me. Louis' text: She's picky, don't fuck it up.

I blush. "Thank you."

We sip in silence for a moment before he asks, "So what brought you to London?"

"Do you want the truth? Or the story I usually tell?" I laugh, letting my guard down slightly.

He blinks. "Both."

"For school," I start. "My parents wanted to leave the States after all the political mess, and I'd always dreamed of living here—blame Harry Potter or something. When they moved for work, I decided to come along instead of studying back home." I pause, then smirk. "The best lies are always wrapped in truth."

He tilts his head. "So what's the real truth?"

I swallow hard. "My parents are diplomats. I came here for school to build my own life so I could eventually cut ties with that world."

Zayn nods in understanding. "Was it obvious?"

"I know the answer you want is no, but yes," he admits. "Being close with a diplomat's kid like Louis made me wonder. But also, it's in the way you carry yourself—the way you blend, like someone trained to fit in anywhere."

I set my coffee down and curl up against his chest. "You're the first person I've told besides Louis. But he doesn't count."

He smiles. "I'm honored. What made you decide to tell me?"

"I think I'm tired of living half a life," I admit. "I don't want my parents' world. I don't want to pretend I do. And... you've been friends with Louis forever, and you've never used him for your own gain. I figured the risk was low."

He pulls me closer, kissing me deeply.

A little while later, we're in the shower together, steam curling around us as we lazily lather each other up. "What's your plan for today?" Zayn asks.

I look up at him. "Nothing. The semester's ending, and I'm graduating in a few weeks."

"How convenient." He smirks. "Because I also have nothing to do and was hoping this girl I met would spend the day with me."

I grin. "Curious who this girl is, while I'm naked in your shower with you."

Zayn laughs. "Come on, Raina, you know what I'm asking."

I shake my head playfully. "You're going to have to use your words, Mr. Malik."

He eyes me feverishly. "Don't call me that... or we won't make it out of this bed today."

I laugh. "Alright, let's hang out."

"It's a date," he says firmly.

And somehow, it feels effortless.

I smile, because, I've never really had this kind of thing happen so naturally. With Louis there was never any part of me that would want to be romantically involved, though he's exactly the type of guy my parents would want for me. It's just not there for us in that way, though the sex says otherwise.

After we finish getting ready, me in one of Zayn's band T's in a French tuck in my jeans from last night and a spritz of his cologne, and Zayn in a black pair of jeans and a graphic t with his leather jacket. I turn to him, "are you sure people won't notice us out?"

Zayn nods, "truly, the more normal I behave, the less people notice who I am. Plus," he hands me a ball cap and a pair of ray bans, "you'd be surprised at how much you can hide with shades and a hat."

We walk out of his flat onto the road, near Marlyebone. The most unsuspecting of places, a driver pulls up and Zayn opens the door for me, touching the back of my thighs as I slide into the back. He sits next to me, pulling my legs over his quads.

"I figured, we may be on a date - after probably the best day of the year for me so far, but I don't want to have to pretend like I didn't see you fully exposed, giving yourself to me last night, and politely not touching you, when I think the most polite thing I could do is touch you." Zayn traces the exposed parts of skin on my jeans, setting off fireworks in my skin.

We stop at a random place I've never been, called the Regency cafe, it looks rather busy and rather unsuspecting. I clear my throat nervously, "are you positive no one will notice us?"

He laughs, "what, are you ashamed of me? I assure you nobody knows the positions I had you in last night." I struggle to breathe, because that is still something I can't think about without feeling every nerve in my body pulsate.

I shake my head, "Funny, I just want to take things at our own pace, and if photos get out, I'm stuck explaining things to my parents."

He nods knowingly, "don't worry - I promise you it will be fine, plus I haven't toured in a while and people forget what I look like when I'm not touring for some reason, it works out in both of our favours today."

He leads me in line to what is potentially one of the scummiest diners I've seen, it's clean but it's so very clearly minimally invested in. I take in the environment, the server yelling at everyone to tell them what they want, the panic in all the new peoples faces, the normalcy for everyone else.

"The trick is to know exactly what you want and state just that, no um's or ah's." Zayn assures me.

"Can you order for me?" I say anxiously, I don't think I can possibly do this with all the thoughts running around in my head. He nods, rubbing my back assuringly.

He gets to the cash, "What'll it be?" The server says in a gruff, thick London accent.

Zayn orders for us, including two teas and we wait for our number to be called before sitting down at the world's smallest table. There's something so cool about the way that we're doing something so normal, so domestic, as if he's not him and I'm not the ambassadors daughter.

We eat our food like two people who didn't just see each other in the most vulnerable ways last night and flirt like people who have to make an effort with each other still; I smile what feels like a genuine, hopeful smile and feel that feeling that tells me this is something I'm going to want to remember for years to come, regardless of whether we ever see each other again, there's something so intimate and peaceful about spending a morning in a loud diner, ignoring the rest of the world and falling into a balance of banter and kindness.

We leave the diner and head out to walk to our next destination, which Zayn has not told me about at all. We stop in front of Buckingham palace, and I laugh nervously - "Why are we here?" He smiles, "I figured you don't really get to see any other sights than a club or pub with Louis, and maybe you should enjoy London as a tourist today with me."

I nod. "Alright, but you have to take ridiculous selfies with me and really commit to this tourist act."

Zayn grins. 'I'm a Bradford boy at heart. I'll always be a tourist here."

I laugh, but something about his words sticks with me. Zayn may belong to the world, but right now—just for today—we belong here, together.