Incomprehensible [Zayn]

Chapter 42 .

Warning: mature content. Read if you are comfortable.

For our last night in Paris, Zayn had booked us a table at a fancy restaurant near the Eiffel Tower. The reservation had been booked for eight o'clock, and on the way there, we'd stopped off at a gift shop to buy some presents for friends and family. Most of the purchased goods were T-shirts and sweets with the exception of a snow globe for my parents. My mother's interest in ornaments never faltered.

"What are you getting for Ian?" Zayn asked as we wandered around the shop. I hadn't really thought about my brother when buying everything. All he liked to do was sit and play on his game consoles.

I shrugged. "No idea. What do you think he'd like?"

"A game," Zayn said with and smile and I nodded. It was no secret that my brother was a mad gamer. "I don't think he'd be too happy of one in a foreign language though."

"Hm, no," I agreed, looking around at the French souvenirs. "He likes chocolate."

"Just grab him something he can eat?" Zayn suggested, pulling down a box of milk chocolates. "Who doesn't love a bit of chocolate?"

I let my eyes rake over Zayn as he stood leaning against the wall, the small sweet box in hand. He looked exceptional in his pressed white shirt and tight black jeans. It was almost his signature look, but there was something different about how he was dressed. Maybe it was the fact that he had swapped his usual boots for polished black shoes?

"He will like it," I said firmly as I took the box from Zayn and flung it in the basket. Zayn just laughed as he followed me to the counter. He remained silent as I paid, thanked and said goodbye to the lady behind the counter who waved us goodbye. I allowed Zayn to interlock his fingers with mine as I smoothed out my dress with the other hand, the bag hanging from my wrist.

"How far is the restaurant?" I asked as we approached the tower.

"Maybe a five minute walk from here?" he said as we passed an elderly couple sitting on a bench together.

The night was fairly pleasant; warm and just light enough for us to make our way on foot. We'd decided to leave the packing until tomorrow so we could enjoy our last night without the stress of preparing to leave once again. I'd miss being in Paris; it had been the best holiday I'd ever had the privilege of going on.

The restaurant was beautiful. Outside were two gentleman who assisted in hanging away your coats before leading you inside to be seated. Zayn kept his jacket on. The building was huge inside; several golden chandeliers hung from the intricately painted ceiling and the aroma of well cooked meals filled the air. The clinking of glasses and incessant chattering of the customers could be heard throughout the first and second floor and I couldn't help but smile as I looked around.

"This is the biggest restaurant I've ever seen," I muttered and Zayn just laughed.

"Yeah, it's a biggie," he agreed before guiding me over to a man standing by the counter. "Reservation under 'Malik'," he said and the man checked through the many names written down on the notepad before him.

"Yes Sir, this way," he said in a strong French accent, a smile on his face. Zayn winked at me before pulling me along after the gentleman who had picked up two menus on the way to our table. We were led towards the winding staircase to our left and up to the second level of the room. "A waiter shall be back to take your orders. Have a good evening!"