Chapter Nine

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“Avery,” A voice calls out. I’m aware of someone shaking my shoulder. No… I don’t want to get up. I want to find Joey again… The shaking gets harder.

I sit up and gasp for air. It feels like my lungs have been completely emptied. I feel dried tear trails running down my cheeks. Zayn is kneeling down beside the bed. I shrug his hand off of my shoulder and let my head fall into my hands.

“I’m getting really sick of you waking me up, Malik.”

“Well sorry!” he says is fake sassy tone. “I heard you screaming out ‘Stop’ so I came to see what’s wrong. Bad dream I’m guessing?”

“Good and Bad.”

He nods like he completely understands. “It’s morning already so you might as well get up.” He stands up and starts to leave. He turns around at the door. “Oh yeah. I have a concert tonight and you’re coming. We have to be there by one.”

“Glad to know decisions are made for me around here.”

“Of course, darling.” He winks at me and turns around to leave again.

I look down and see that I’m still wearing the clothes from our date last night. Had it really been just last night? “Wait, Zayn! I need clothes. I need to go home and get them.”

“Are you sure you want to go back there?”

“Yeah she’ll be at work.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

“Okay. Well I can take you there in forty-five minutes. Sound good?”

“Great.” I smile. He smiles back and leaves my room.

I don’t remember falling asleep in this room. I must have fallen asleep on the couch while watching the movie with Zayn last night and he carried me here. It isn’t the same room I woke up in last time. This one had Blue sheets covering the bed, instead of black. The walls were an off-white color. One wall had a large window that overlooks the city.

I step out into the hallway to try to find the bathroom. Once I find it to be 2 doors down, I go in and do my business. Normally I would brush my hair, but I have no hair brush. I throw it up into a messy bun instead and I hear my stomach rumble. I go down the stairs and into the kitchen. I remember seeing some Cheerio’s in the cupboard with the Nutella from yesterday. I love Cheerio’s. Don’t judge me.

I don’t see Zayn anywhere down here. He must be taking this whole time to do his fabulous hair. It was pretty great hair… and soft… and can we take a moment to remember those perfectly sculpted abs? Alright, I think I’m drooling. Enough of that. I finish my Cheerio’s and rinse the bowl out in the sink. Zayn still isn’t down here. I plop down on the couch and see my phone on the coffee table. I remembered that Dylan had called me yesterday. I better call him back.

It rings 6 times before he picks up.

“Hello?” he groans.

“Hey Dildo.” I call him his least favorite nickname.

“Avery. You do realize it’s like five am here, right?”

I mentally face palm myself. “Right, time difference. Sorry but I just don’t think I’ll have time later today.”

“Wow, miss popular with the Brits already, are we?”

“Long story, bud.”

“Well I’ve got time now.” He laughs slightly.

I go ahead and tell him the whole story about first arriving here, to waking up here, to my mother and finally to staying here.

“Alright well A- I’m sorry about your mother. B- Like oh my God you are dating Zayn freaking Malik and you are living with him!” Did I mention he’s a guy directioner? No, he’s not gay.

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