Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 8

The sky is partly cloudy but blue none the less. The brisk London breeze cools my face and blows through my hair. Zayn has such a calm demeanor as I study him walking beside me. His hands casually placed in his pockets, chin held up high with such elegance.

"So what would you like to know?" I look up at him.

He scans me from head to toe, searching my hands. "Where's the cream cheese I gave you?"

I giggle, covering my mouth to ensure I don't spit out any crumbs of my bagel. Zayn looks down at me, complete and utter confusion plastered on his face.

"I'm lactose intolerant Zayn." I can't help but laugh, especially at his embarrassment. It's cute yet still extremely funny.

"That's why you were laughing when I handed it to you?!" I nod. "Damn you should've told me, that's quite embarrassing." He hides his face in his hands.

"It's fine you never knew!" I feel so bad for him, but yet deep down it's still the funniest shit to happen to me all day. I decide to redirect the conversation back to my first question, in order to make him feel a bit better.

"So like I said before, what would you like to know?" I smile up at him.

"Well, I guess it'd be a good idea to start with the heavy details. Tell me about your family, what are you hiding from?" He glances down, meeting my eyes.

"I'm not sure we're at that point yet, it's not really up for discussion considering you don't even know my favorite color or that I'm lactose intolerant. Let alone my horrifying past." I shrug, and stare down at the sidewalk, studying the cracks in the concrete.

He laughs, and for once, I genuinely laugh along with him.

"Ok, what's your favorite color?" He chuckles.

"Blue..and red. There's no hidden rule about having two favorite colors."

"I never said there was! I think it's unique."

"You're awfully cheesy, Zayn." I giggle, laughing at his attempt to make me feel special.

"What? It's true!" He nudges me with his shoulder playfully. "There are so many unique things about people, they just don't realize it. They'd rather change those unique qualities to fit in with everyone around them. In your case, you happen to have two favorite colors. How many people do you know have two favorite colors?"

"Twenty."

We both burst out laughing, and for the first time in forever, I feel at peace. I feel normal.
We approach a rustic wooden bench place in front of the water fountain in the middle of the lake, and sit as the sun warms our faces.

"Ok, wasn't expecting that but moving on! What's your favorite food?"

"Anything with chicken in it honestly." I close my eyes and tilt my head toward the sunlight.

"I can tolerate it, but I can't have it all the time." He sighs, and leans back against the bench, placing his hands in his lap.

"Well it's a good thing you're not taking me out for dinner, or else that wouldn't work." I laugh.

"I'd like to though." He states, directing the whole conversation a completely different way. Seriousness is evident in his voice, and I'm at a loss for words. I sit up straight and turn to look down at him. It's ironic because he appears so relaxed with his red and black rayban sunglasses covering his eyes, basking in the sun. He doesn't appear a bit serious at all, yet he suggests such a serious thing like a date. He turns his head towards me and raises his eyebrows, while I stare at him in silence.

"I'd like to take you out for dinner Ellana." He says so cooly, as if it doesn't affect him at all.
It kind of upsets me because as a girl, I'd like to be asked properly or in a nice way. Not just casually with no effort whatsoever.

"I might say yes, if you were to put effort into asking me, but right now, I'll pass." I stand up, and stare at the fountain. "I'm ready to go home, will you take me?" I try my absolute hardest to ask politely, aside from my frustration at him.

"Will you go out on a date with me?" He stands, towering over me as he looks down.

I huff, folding my arms weighing my options. I could sit here and act like I didn't hear him.

That could work.

"I'm not moving until you say yes." I swear I could hear him smiling triumphantly.

A wave of reminders of the past couple of days washes over me, and I'm so completely overwhelmed, and shocked, at how I forgot about them. The girls in the white bathroom towels, the student assistant schedule change, his random appearance in my hospital bedroom. All of these little things rush back to my mind, and it's as if someone lifted the blindfold from my eyes.

"How about you let me sleep on it and I'll let you know tomorrow?" I secretly pray he'll comply, so I can brew up my future excuses.

He sighs, and slides his hands back into his pockets.

"Fine, sleep on it but if you think you can avoid me tomorrow, you're in for a surprise."

"Yeah, because that's something you'd say to convince a girl to go out on a date with you. Creep."

I glare at him, and begin my walk back to the main building of the hospital. The faint sound of sneakers hitting the concrete trails behind me, and we continue to stroll in silence.

~

We walk through the double doors and I can't help but admire the beautiful lobby once again. Zayn has been quiet the entire time leading me up to my room, making the elevator ride familiarly awkward. It isn't until now that I notice the way people respond to him. His demeanor, appearance, posture, all of these things play a part in making everyone around him uncomfortable. As we walk by the nurses station, I also notice the middle aged women staring him down, like a piece of meat.

"He's old enough to be your son dammit." I blurt out in disgust.

The women glare back at me but return to their duty. I bump into Zayn as we approach my door, and he's already smiling down at me.

"Hesitant to go out on a date with me, yet jealous when old women check me out? Remind me how that makes any sense love."

"Shut up and let me in." I laugh, and he chuckles as he holds the door open for me.

The second I step foot into the room, I immediately regret it. The already pale pigment of my skin drains from my face, and I'm completely translucent. I struggle to breathe at the sight in front of me, and I'm thankful Zayn stands behind me, his chest supporting my weight.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I spit.

"Ellana, that's no way to talk to your father." He coos from the green leather chair, the sunlight illuminating his pearly grey eyes.