Hate Me

seven

Lol that awkward moment you realize 6 months later that you published a duplicate chapter thinking you hadn't published it yet

Super embarrassing. Sorry guys.. Also sorry for the like ridiculous wait. Summer is here though so I shall be writing lots.

Here is the ACTUAL chapter seven, unedited.. Ugh.

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The end of seventh period rolled around and finally it was time for the weekend. I was really looking forward to going to Niall's party the next evening and couldn't believe how quickly I'd been accepted into this little tight knit community. It was adorable and I was already starting to love it.

The bus ride home was long and the sky started to darken. A thunder and lightning storm rolled in and within just a few minutes, it started pouring big, heavy raindrops all over the streets. The smell was heavenly, fresh and comforting. The sudden clasps of thunder resonated deep inside me and I let myself relax in my seat, enjoying the beauty of the storm.

I had almost forgotten I was meeting up with Zayn until I hopped off the bus and instantly regretted it as rain pounded down on my head and drenched my hair, my clothes, everything. I glanced at his house. His car was parked outside so he was home.

He said he would meet me at the bus stop, and I didn't exactly know why since he lived right next to it and I could easily just walk over to his house as soon as I was dropped off. But I guess he eventually realized there was no point in standing outside and waiting, especially because he would be a complete idiot to do it in this weather. And frankly he wouldn't be nice enough to do it anyways. But then again, who would?

I jogged across the street to his house, which was on the corner of the block opposite to the bus stop, shielding my head as much as I could as if it would keep me from getting anymore wet then I already was, which it didn't.

I pounded on the door (and by pounded I mean pounded, out of pure hastiness to get out of the rain), then was extremely embarrassed immediately after for sounding so urgent. I felt genuinely stupid in that moment and so my first reaction was to run before someone answered. I probably sounded like a burglar. I imagined a terrified family inside his house trying to find a place to hide from the crazy person trying to break down their front door. For their own sake and for mine, I hid behind a bush on the side of his house and I listened for a door to open, for someone to call out. Nothing. It was strange. After several minutes I went back and with a much softer knock. No answer. What was he doing in there? Sleeping? I knocked again. And again. And again until finally I put it to rest and trudged my way home in my sloshy converse, not making much of an effort to hurry anymore.

My mom was working and thankfully she was because she would not have been the slightest bit okay with what I had just walked in on.

There was Zayn, good old Zayn Malik sitting on my couch in my living room watching my Netflix. Eating a sandwich. A freaking sandwich.

He casually greeted me as I walked through my doorway, staring at him wondrously and in disbelief. As if he lived here too.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said.

"Caught in the rain?" He said, looking my dripping outfit up and down.

"Yes, thanks for noticing."

"Yep," he said, biting into his sandwich.

"How did you get in?" I stated, scrutinizing him with a cold glare.

"The door was unlocked." He shrugged.

Unbelievable!

"So? So what? That means it's okay to just walk in here and do whatever the heck you please? This is my house," I said, pressing my hands to my hips. I stormed over to the couch and grabbed the remote, shutting the tv off. His eyes followed me, as he continued to much on his sandwich.