Irresistible - Zayn Malik Short Story

Two.

2.

I adjust my dress and straighten up my dark, brown curls so they are sitting on my shoulders nicely. I’d been home already to shower and prepare for my daily performance at Walsh’s, and now I stand at the door to the café. It is still a shocker to me… the nerves that still grip me before I walk in. But I hide them using my acting skills and step inside. The smell of candles and a light scent of alcohol consume me when I enter.

If I have one thing to say about Walsh’s Café, it is this: it’s classy. Minimal lighting; dark wood tables; fancy candles; silver, silky drapery along the ceiling; and windows overlooking Chicago’s streets make the place almost movie-like. Alcohol and beer is sold here, and the customers don’t always live up to the ‘classy’ name, but the décor and crew are very much top-of-the-line. My form-fitting black dress sits right at my lower thigh, making me feel a tiny bit exposed to the strangers, but that’s the way it is around here. Classy. And the place happens to be packed tonight; just what I need.

I no longer need Mr. Walsh, my boss, to instruct me to file onto the tiny stage. It has always been an impromptu type of performance, as most of the regulars don’t pay attention to me, but the nerves fill me anyway. The music starts and I pull on my pretty face, smiling at those who are watching. “We’ve got Amelia Rohl here for you guys tonight!” I hear the deejay call, and I wave politely. The music starts, and I’m all smiles as I somewhat prance across the stage.

“Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…” I begin, taking my usual steps across the tiny setup. The lights are rather blinding, and I can barely see the few tables that are set up in front of me. But I’m enjoying myself and my performance, preparing myself for the pay check that is coming my way. I know I can make even more money if I spend a few hours this week waiting tables, which gets me even more excited.

I jump slightly when I see Zayn so carefully sliding into a seat in one of the front rows. He sees me just as I see him, and his eyes seem to catch mine and hold them. Without thinking, I smile and wave politely, trying to be vague; honesty grips me suddenly, though, and I realize that I’m strangely pleased to see him here. But then again, we barely know each other, and he is now watching me perform. Nerves make it hard to concentrate for a moment, but I regain my composure and finish out my second and third song without a hitch.

I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I’m now able to take a small break before I go home to crash for tonight. It’s been a long day.

As soon as I leave the stage, I look for him. It’s silly, but I figure he must have already left due to my horrible performance. Some confidence I have, I decide. I don’t rightly care at the moment; I’m out of breath from my performance and my legs are aching. True to real life, just when I’m about to give up hope of finding him, he flags me down at one of the tables. I gladly cross through the crowd to sit down. He’s eyeing me, watching my every move, and it makes me even more nervous than when I was on the platform a few minutes ago. Another young man is performing now, the light café-type music filling my ears. I hope that will be enough to keep down the conversation and my growing headache.

“I never… um, well, I never got your name, love,” he says forcefully. I look at what he’s wearing – nothing classy at all. A snug white t-shirt and dark jeans. I notice his tattoos – a huge ‘ZAP’ logo on his right arm, very visible. I see a few chest tattoos underneath his shirt, only due to the strange lighting here inside the café. His dark skin is rather captivating – as is his hair once again: a deep black with blonde swirls in the front. His appearance, no matter how unfitting for this place, is strangely sexy to me. Just like the –

I stop myself, yet again, from thinking about anything but what is happening right now. Zayn. It is all his fault – today has been brutal, filled with memories that I know shouldn’t exist, and it is all his fault. I sigh, but a smile plays at the corner of my lips. “You didn’t track me down here today to get my name, did you?”