What He Never Said ✔️

chapter fifteen • the girlfriend

"teach me that love
is not war
but peacetime
in your eyes."
- K.Y. Robinson

I knock on Zayna's door, hiding the bouquet of flowers I purchased behind my back. She's never pegged me as a chocolates-and-roses kind of girl, but I found an arrangement of red and black dahlias that practically screamed her name. I had no choice but to buy them.

My heart races as the door swings open. I can't wait to see Zayna. I've been looking forward to our date all afternoon.

My excitement fades when I spot Zayna's older brother, Shamus, standing in the doorway. His arms are folded over his chest, a disgruntled expression on his face. If looks could kill, I wouldn't quite be dead, but I'd be bruised and bloodied and probably in a ditch somewhere.

"Hey, Shamus," I greet him. "Is Zayna here?"

"Yup," he replies.

"May I come in and wait for her?" I ask. He didn't scare me the first time we met, and he doesn't scare me now.

"Guess so." Shamus steps aside, allowing me entrance into the one-bedroom apartment. "She's in the bathroom. Want a water or something?"

"No thanks."

"Cool."

We sit in uncomfortable silence for fifteen unbearable minutes while Zayna "makes herself pretty"—Shamus's words, not mine. In my opinion, Zayna could leave the house in sweatpants and still be the most stunning creature alive, but I know better than to tell her that.

When Zayna finally emerges, my heart stops. It isn't that she's wearing anything special—just jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt—but the radiant, megawatt smile on her face leaves me breathless. Happy looks good on her.

"Hey, Bowie," she says, blushing scarlet.

I feel myself grinning as I hand her the dahlias. "You look beautiful, Zayna."

Shamus fake-gags. "God, you two are nauseating. Alright, do you remember what I said last time?"

"How could we forget?" Zayna rolls her golden eyes. "I'll be fine, bro."

Before Shamus can threaten another part of my anatomy, Zayna hooks her arm through mine and pulls me into the hallway. She closes the door and presses her lips to mine in a voracious kiss.

"What was that for?" I ask.

"I missed you," she confesses.

I can't hide my smirk. "I'm shocked. Did you really?"

"Yeah, it's weird for me, too, okay?" she replies, punching my shoulder. "Anyway, I'm ravenous. Where are we going?"

I slide my fingers through hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Follow me and find out."

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

Zayna isn't an ordinary girl. I don't want to bore her with traditional, dinner-and-a-movie type of dates. Instead, I opt for something a little more... Zayna-esque.

We stop at Shake Shack for, in her words, "heart attack food." I discover that she dips her french fries in mayonnaise but never ketchup. She also can't eat without getting food all over herself, which I think is utterly adorable.

After dinner, we get our shakes to-go—chocolate for her, strawberry for me—and walk to one of my favorite places in all of Chicago.

"Where are we?" Zayna asks as we stroll hand-in-hand down the barren hiking trail. The snow has melted, allowing the earth to peak through underneath. "Is this the part where you, like, murder me and then hang me from a tree?"

"No, I'll just murder you by hanging you from a tree. Make it look like a suicide." I stop, the actuality of my words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Fuck, that was dumb. I'm dumb."

"It was just a joke, Bowie. You don't have to apologize," she assures me.

"No, but...." But Raelyn. Raelyn committed suicide, and it's all my fault. "I shouldn't kid around like that," I finally say. "It isn't funny."

"You're still really torn up over that girl, aren't you?" Zayna asks, staring up at the star-lit sky. "Raelyn, right?"

"I can't imagine a day where I won't be," I whisper.

We walk in silence for a moment, but it isn't an uncomfortable silence. There's a level of tranquility between us that I've never had with anyone else, not even Winter or my family. It's refreshing. She's refreshing.

We stop at a clearing, where there's a wooden dock that overlooks the frosty water. We take a seat, our hands still intertwined. Zayna rests her head on my shoulder and lets out a contented sigh.

"What are you thinking about?" I inquire.

"Just how nice it is out here," she answers. "What about you?"

"Just how badly I want you to be my girlfriend," I blurt out.

She looks at me with raised eyebrows. I can feel my cheeks growing warm as her lips part into an amused smirk.

"Girlfriend, huh? Are we back in high school?" she teases me.

"Sorry, I'm jumping the gun here," I relent, mentally kicking myself. No matter how hard I try, I can't not be awkward.

"I don't like the word 'girlfriend.' It's cringey. It makes me think of homecoming and prom and all those other stupid school rituals that I skipped out on," she explains.

"Understandable," I reply, biting my lip to hold in a chuckle. "I won't bring it up again."

"I said I didn't like the word, not that I didn't want... not that I won't be...." She trails off, shaking her head in frustration. In all the time I've known her, I've never seen her flustered. Never at a loss for words.

"What are you trying to say, Zayna?" I implore her.

"Look, if you need... exclusivity, I can do that. If you're not hooking up with anyone else, I won't hook up with anyone else," she finishes.

I caress her cheek with the hand that isn't tangled with hers. "Zayna, I don't want anyone else. Just you. Only you."

A smile lights up her face. I swear, she shines brighter than any star in the sky. "I only want you, too, Bowie."

I lean forward and press my lips to hers. If she's the only girl I kiss from now on, I'm one-hundred percent okay with that.