twin flames {zjm}

flame two.

"I'm Zayn." He broke the silence after a couple of minutes. I wasn't daft nor was I stupid. I knew who he was the second I stepped out here, I just didn't want to inflate his ego— or make him think I was some stalker fan.

I opened one eye to look at him. "I'm aware." My eye instantly reshut itself, adjusting to the darkness of my eyelid once again.

His chuckle tumbled through the crisp air. "Assuming 'Aware' isn't your name, what is?"

"Why?" I stood my ground while internally panicking a bit. I don't want him to know my name or anything about me for the matter; if there's a chance we'll see each other again in a formal environment, I'd rather he not remember me or know anything about me. I've worked with his girlfriend on shoots before and I don't want any kind of familiarity to sprout between us if it's not professionally.

"Never mind, I'll call you Pepper Spray." A smile caught on his lips. His tongue poked through the back of his teeth making me take a deep breath.

Pictures don't do him justice, this man is stunning.

"You think you're funny?" I raised my eyebrows.

He crossed his arms, his eyes widening like he was about to say something serious. "You don't think I'm funny?"

I shook my head slowly. "It's... Linda." I lied again, feeling annoyed— but with myself. If I could just stop being an extra ass bitch, tell him my name, and stop overthinking.

"Cool name."

I nodded, knowing he was lying. Nobody thinks Linda is a cool name, Zayn.

I looked at the light coming from the end of the alley. The distant street lamps casting their sulfurous glow on the dry asphalt.

"Um, so it was nice to meet you," I say, deciding I've had more than enough air when neither of us says anything for a couple of minutes. I turned back to the door, wrapping my hand around the doorknob and pulling. A frown stretched on my face when the door wouldn't budge.

"Yeah, it's locked," Zayn said from behind me.

I slowly turned back to look at him. "You couldn't have told me that earlier?" I deadpanned.

He copied my position and leaned against the wall opposite me. "And what would you have done?"

I crossed my arms while my head began to throb again. Of course, it would be locked. They wouldn't want people sneaking in. Not only was I locked out here with this gorgeous Zayn persona, but I also didn't have my phone or money with me— which was stupid on my part. How am I supposed to tell my friends I'm out here? How am I going to pay the reentrance fee?

Why did I even come outside, again?

"I'm going back in through the front," Zayn said. "Let's go."

"I'm sorry?" I deadpanned. "Do you have any idea what that will look like?" I repeat, his girlfriend is a frequent client of mine, and there is no way I'm jeopardizing working with a model of her status, regardless of how annoying she is.

"It's not that serious," He rolled his eyes. He knew it was that serious, I knew it was that serious, but he didn't know that I knew. The media would tear him apart, limb by limb, and I would be the Monica Lewinsky of the week.