Mind of His

27. Lucid Dreams

Fiona POV

We sat in silence for a long time, and I think we both savoured every minute. We were comfortable, curled up together, me in a blanket and Zayn's arm around my back. There was a fire blazing in his fireplace and the day was turning to night.

I didn't want it to ever end. My head felt clear of all the anxiety and stress of before. It was peaceful and serene. Zayn knew how to take care of someone; how to make them feel comfortable; how to make them feel better. I wondered if this was how Zayn treated his younger sisters. They must be so lucky.

But here I am. I'm so lucky. From the moment Zayn stepped into my life, good things were happening. He was slowly letting me in; into his life and into his mind, which were so complex and riddled with mystery, but every time he opened up to me, it was like somehow things were all starting to make sense. I was able to catch more sweet moments like these. And I knew that these memories would stay with me and last forever.

I felt him shift and I raised my head to look at him. He was already looking at me, a gentle look in his soft eyes. I blushed, realizing our close proximity.

"I'm going to have a smoke, that alright?"

It wasn't, but it was. It was his place. His lungs. And he'd been so sweet and went through a bit of stress today as well, so I felt I couldn't chide him for smoking. I simply nodded and he slowly got up.

I watched him as he got a cigarette from a pack on a table nearby. He walked back to the couch as he lit it with ease, then collapsed next to me, breathing in and exhaling a long cloud of smoke. I saw the muscles of his face relax and his eyes lowered as the smoke dispersed into the air.

It's known among most teen fiction writers and movie makers that a hot guy smoking can be alarmingly alluring and sexy, but seeing it happen in front of me was hypnotising and actually so beautiful. I knew that what would be happening inside his body because of the smoking was not quite so beautiful, but I chose to ignore it for the present moment.

He sat there and smoked for a while, and I just watched him and the flames of the fire dancing. Smoke and fire. It could be so frightening or so soothing and hypnotising.

"Do you want a try?"

Zayn held the cigarette out to me. As opposed to a few minutes before, he looked much more relaxed and sleepy, his eyelids slightly lowered and his lips parted, the faintest bit of smoke escaping from them. As tempting as it was at the moment, I shook my head.

Zayn smirked slightly. "You looked like you wanted to try," he commented, his eyes flickering to me lips for a split second.

"Not really," I said. "I was enjoying watching you though." I blushed. I couldn't believe I just said that, but at the same time, it was honest and true. And perhaps even an understatement. Feeling awkward, I focused on picking at a thread on the blanket.

Suddenly I felt Zayn move towards me. I looked up. The cigarette was gone and he was sitting very close to me, eyes dilated as he watched my face. Before I could stop myself, I reached out to touch the stubble on his face, sliding my fingers down to his jaw. A tingle went up my spine at the ever so slight graze of his hand on my shoulder as the blanket slid off it. Suddenly my sweater felt too hot. I pulled Zayn's face closer to me, trying to remember the feeling of his soft lips against mine. I knew how much he tends to rub his lip with his thumb, and I found myself trying that on him. His face was just so perfect.

His hand on my shoulder slid up my neck to the back of my head.

We were so close now, our faces barely touching, only a sliver of the warm gold light of the fireplace separating our profiles. I could almost taste his minty, smoky breath. His hand moved through my hair. My other hand naturally moved to his body and his other hand slid to my waist. We lingered here, waiting. I could feel sparks, as if they were from the fireplace, between us.