Arranged to Him (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 23

(Please pay attention to the shifts in perspectives!)

Hannah's POV.

I passed a pair of giggly girls that came out of a club. I wondered absent-mindedly how they got into a bar- they looked about fifteen.

I paused outside the club, dithering. A cold cocktail sounded really good right now. 'You will not drink.' Dad's voice told me.

I walked defiantly into the bar.

Zayn's POV.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white.

It's been nearly twenty minutes since Hannah stormed out of the car. Part of me knew I was being too harsh but the other part didn't care. I loved what she was wearing, she looked too sexy for words. But if I took her to the roller skating rink as planned then every other guy there would be checking her out.

She should only be trying to impress me.

But now I have no idea where she is, she won't answer her phone and it's dark as shit outside.

I called her again, but this time she picked up.

"Hannah?"

"Hellooooo." She slurred. She was clearly drunk.

"Where are you Hannah?"

"Hmm.. why should I tell you?"

I wasn't in the mood for her games. "Please Hannah?"

"I'm at Vincent's Bar, be quick."

I drove as quickly as I could, calling her every bad name under the sun under my breath. Because of her I was probably going to get mobbed as soon as I arrived at that damn bar.

I was hoping to spend my last night in Bradford peacefully, but no, instead I was chasing after Hannah.

I arrived at the bar and pulled up outside, keeping my head bowed low. I looked around, searching for her and I finally found her.

She was drinking a cocktail and chatting to a blond-haired boy. He leaned and spoke into her ear, the loud music drowning out their speech. I clenched my fists and stalked towards them. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards me, away from the blond.

"What do you waaant?" She groaned, dragging out the 'want' like a child.

"Who's this." I hissed, gesturing to the boy.

"Zayn, this is Anthony, Anthony this is my boyfriend Zayn."

"Fiancee," I corrected, glaring at him. In the time that I had been in this club my mood had gone from bad to foul.

"Oops." She chewed her straw.

"We're leaving." I told her.

"Bu-" One harsh look from me and she was silenced. Good.

I gripped her wrist tightly as I led her out of the bar. She stumbled slightly but I didn't stop.

"Hey!" She protested. I ignored her and opened the passenger seat, helping her in. By the time I was seated she was glaring at me.

"What?" I snapped.

"You're such a killjoy."

I narrowed my eyes. "Killjoy?

You're the one who ran away like a fucking child and didn't answer your phone! Then I find you drunk and flirting with that prick!"

"You called me a fucking slut!" She screamed, "How do you think that made me feel? I tried to put on a nice outfit and what happens? I get shit from my Dad then you."