Incomprehensible [Zayn]

Chapter 39 .

OK wow, so there's some touching and feeling in this chapter, so if you're not into that kind of stuff, you'll know when to stop reading :)

Sometimes Zayn used his power of Persuasion for good things; sometimes he used it for bad things. But I wasn't sure if Persuading the taxi driver to think that we'd already paid him, was a bad thing. Sure, there were plenty of worse things which Zayn could have done so I supposed a free ride to the beach wasn't as terrible as I'd originally thought. The taxi driver muttered a few confused words before smiling at us and driving back towards Paris.

Côte des Basques was what Zayn had told me as we walked down the sandy path. The place was pretty busy, with people everywhere. I frowned, wondering if we'd be able to get a good enough spot to sit. Zayn carried the picnic basket in one hand and held me close with his other, his eyes searching everywhere for a good spot to set up the picnic.

"There?" I suggested, pointing to a small space by the cliff edge. Zayn looked to where I was pointing and shrugged. We walked through the mass of bodies, stepping over sandcastles and neglected buckets and spades. Zayn pulled out the picnic mat that was stuffed beneath the basket's handles and opened it out for us both to sit down.

"The more people who leave, the nicer this spot will turn out to be," Zayn promised as he opened the picnic basket and handed me a bottle of water. I thanked him and took a sip, sighing as the cool liquid travelled down my throat. The weather was great; the sun shining and a faint breeze accompanying it. I'd made sure to put in plenty of sun cream before leaving and also I'd allowed Zayn to feed. The sun wasn't exactly his best friend, after all.

I bit into a sandwich as I looked out over the sea, shielding my eyes with the sun. Zayn had chose to wear sunglasses, and I had to admit, he looked damn good with them on. On the bad side, I couldn't see his eyes and the mysteries they held. I remembered Zayn once telling me that the eyes were like the windows to the soul and that he liked trying to draw mine. He'd told me that my eyes were difficult to capture. Only then did I understand what he meant; Zayn's eyes were captivating.

"Tell me about the time Louis brought you and Harry here," I said and Zayn grinned, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

"Well, it was round about the time the Eiffel Tower was being built," he started, his head turned towards me. "We'd just left Sweden and were planning to venture over to America. We never did. Harry suggested France, said he'd always wanted to go. I agreed so the three of us did. Like I've told you before, the fashion was quite something."

"Big dresses and tailored suits," I said and he chuckled.

"Pretty much. We were in Paris for a couple of years - it didn't take us too long to learn the language, actually. Louis insisted we learn it - he said it would come in useful."

"And has it been useful?" I asked.

"Sure has," Zayn said. "I've managed to charm several women with my fluency, and look where we are now," he said, gesturing out to the beach. "Paris."

"Was the French your way of charming women before the butterflies?" I asked and Zayn thought for a moment.

"I think so," he hummed. "I only got the butterfly tattoo a few decades ago. It's not too old."

"So what all happened in Paris?" I asked, taking another sip of my water.

"We partied, we drank, got laid," he said as if he didn't have a care in the world. Upon seeing my frown, he said, "Louis and Harry more so than me. Of course."