Chapter 32. Seattle.

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Chapter 32

Mia's POV

"We're here!" I heard Cheryl gloriously yell from her seat.

Cheryl was the name of our bus driver. It had slipped my mind when I didn't know what to call her.

We must have finally arrived in Seattle. It was a very long drive with nothing to do but sit and watch George and Zayn fool around, making stupid guy jokes that I could never understand.

I shifted on the bottom bunk bed when I heard a constant moan coming from the opposite bunk. My eyes attempted to open but remained half closed due to the illuminating Washington sun that beanmed through the kitchen windows.

"Mia---Mia--"

Immediately I perked up from my laying position at the faint sound of my name.

"Ow!" I quietly growled. Resulted in my head hitting the bottom of the top bunk.

I looked to see Mark on the opposite bed, his short leg falling off the side. Slowly easing out bed, I made my way through the hallway until I heard my name through the air again.

It was coming from one of the top bunks.

A ghost? I gulped. No. Ghosts don't exist. Do they?

It wasn't George...or Mark. There was only one other logical answer.

Zayn.

I inched closer to the bed, just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. With the bright light of the sun, I saw his face lying on the pillow, his dark hair covering his forehead. He was shirtless like he usually was, exposing the ink carvings on his skin.

Not knowing what to do, I remained awed at the beauty of this .. man.

Zayn was a man. I was never comfortable calling him that term.

He was twenty four, and so was I. And so much time had passed since we first met in London yet I was still in the same place.

Foolishly attracted to this guy. I remember back when he would moan Perrie's name in his sleep...And now he's calling for me?

Was it nightmares he had, or sweet dreams, I wondered.

I admit it.

None of what I did for the past two and a half years made me stop thinking about him. Not even for a second. I wanted to free myself from him, but I was helplessly wrapped around his finger.

His arm flailed off the bed causing me to jump. Goodness.

He even knew how to scare me in his sleep. My hand reached for Zayn's arm to place it back on the bed, but halted when the tattoo of, what could only be explained as a goddess, on his right bicep.

Perrie.

His tattoo of her was still there, unremoved, untouched. Seeing her face made me once again realize why I couldn't be with Zayn.

Our past, our work relationship. It would never work between us. He was my employer and I could not afford to lose another job because of him again.

I took a deep breath, regaining some composure, and continued to the tiny washroom.

After changing and brushing my teeth, I walked over to sit by the leather seats by Cheryl who was gleefully singing to Ariana Grande's "Popular Song".

Why?

Cheryl absolutely adored the singer and she even brought her own CDs.

To be honest, I loved Ariana's voice but hearing it for seven hours straight drove me nuts. This middle aged woman was probably the life of the party during her younger years.

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