But Zayn only let me stay for that night.
The rest of the week resumed back to normal for us as I dragged my sore ass, that may or may not have had the imprint of Zayn's hand on it, out of his bed at the most ungodly hours after having been ravaged all night.
And as much as I wanted so badly to sleep next to Zayn, to be held close to him and to wake up viewing the golden sunlight dawning in on his skin, I knew that keeping this secret was important to Zayn.
Sometimes I could have a tendency to be this way, but I didn't want to be selfish.
I could hardly complain, though. Zayn was so keen on fulfilling all of my deepest desires, bringing my submissive fantasies to life, and taking such good care of me while doing it. He was so attentive to my needs and he was completely dedicated to every moment that we shared together.
But I could feel myself forming a deep attachment to our sexual intimacy, and to him.
And when I had told Adrienne all about me and Zayn at work one day during that week she was convinced right away that I must love him, that we were falling in love with each other, and the first thing I spat back at her was instant denial.
I wasn't about to fall in love with Zayn, to start a relationship with him when there were only a few weeks left of my summer in Italy in the first place, and then after that there would be only distance between us.
It wouldn't work.
And yet that still didn't stop me from becoming insanely infatuated with Zayn while I was there.
I loved his mind and his passion for all the little things that he clung to. I loved the way his body moved, the subtleties in the inflections of his voice, his hearty chuckle, his smile when his eyes twinkled, and of course I was wildly attracted to him on a physical level.
Perhaps addicted was the most proper term for how I felt about Zayn.
But then I also knew that I cared deeply about him as well. I cared a lot about his feelings, his thoughts, the things about Zayn that made him exactly who he was; but he was just my friend and my summer lover.
I wasn't in love with him. I couldn't be.
That proceeding Saturday was the one day of the week that I was most looking forward to. Gio had given the day off to me, Zayn, Adrienne and Marco so that we could all spend the day by the ocean on his luxury yacht that he hardly ever touched. And I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.
I had been on boats before like speed boats, sail boats, canoes, kayaks, but I had never been on a yacht. I wasn't rich enough to experience things like that. But I loved everything about being out on the water; the humming of the motor, the breeze through my hair, the rippling waves below me, the smell of the salt air, the gentle sounds of seagulls flying overhead, and the tender ocean spray on my face.
Being out to sea was comforting.
And it wasn't only being on a boat in the middle of the ocean that brought me joy, I was also drawn to all things sea-related such as pirates and pirate ships and old tales of their swash-buckling adventures. I was fascinated by mythology and fantasy creatures like mermaids and water nymphs, and all of the cool sea animals that lived in the depths of the ocean layers.
My grand mum was the wife of a sailor, my grandfather, and I used to idolize his old sailor-esque tattoos like anchors, ships and birds, always in black and white. Then I'd sit down on the floor of her living room on her pink rug with a cup of tea and Gemma and I would ask her to tell me the story of how they fell in love by the shore over and over again.
I didn't think that I'd ever have the opportunity to take a boat out in Italy that summer because we weren't exactly close to the beach, but once I told Zayn about my love for the ocean a few days prior he went along and made that happen for me.
I felt very fortunate to be so spoiled by Zayn, and by his family.
I was in the guest house that Saturday morning packing up some of my things into a black duffle bag that I thought I'd need for the day which included a change of clothes, aviator sunglasses, sun screen, a fluffy towel, and a book that I had stolen from Zayn's room recently when he wasn't paying attention.
It was a post-apocalyptic novel called In Watermelon Sugar by Richard Brautigan.
Reading was not really my thing, though. I hardly read books unless it was for school, but I knew that he was bookish, an intellectual, someone who knew a lot of things and I still wanted to impress him for some reason. I still wanted Zayn to like me even more than he already did, and I thought that perhaps I'd try and sharpen my own mind a little.
Maybe even attempt to become a reader myself.
Zayn strolled into the guest bedroom moments later in a short-sleeved, blue and yellow paisley patterned button down top with the sleeves rolled up slightly, donning a pair of long, white linen shorts and all white trainers. And whenever he dressed up a bit he always sported these long, unique necklaces with an antique key dangling on the end, or a skull, or sometimes an evil eye pendant, several chain and woven bracelets and metal, stone rings.
He was stylish and gorgeous and put together like he was going to a remote, exotic fashion show on an island somewhere, and there I was just standing in my cheap yellow swimming trunks, dirty white vans and a white t-shirt off the clearance rack that read Dreamboat on the front; looking like your average, every day, lower middle class beach-goer.
Zayn knocked his knuckles against the door frame. "Hey."
"Hey sexy," I replied.
"Who me? No you."
My cheeks pinkened instinctually as Zayn moved towards me, pausing to look down at his book that was still laying on the end of the bed.
"Did you steal that from me?"
I had a sheepish, guilty expression on my face.
"Maybe."
Zayn looked at me curiously. "I didn't know that you read books."
"I don't."
He let out a chuckle. "So you're a kleptomaniac then?"
"Are you going to call the police?" I toyed back.
"If you wanted to be put in hand cuffs all you had to do was ask me," Zayn responded smugly and I felt myself smirking while my heart did a little back flip at the very idea of that.
"I just thought maybe I'd get into reading a bit...or at least try to. You know, evolve as a person so I'm not just some dumb football player with fantastic hair," I said with a short laugh.
Zayn then ran his long fingers through my soft brown curls after I said that, petting at me softly as my eyes fluttered closed from the gentle, comforting feeling that it brought me.
"Well then how about you give me a book report when you're finished," he suggested, removing his hand from the back of my head.
"Will it be marked?" I questioned, feeling Zayn's arms wrap around my torso from behind, drawing me into him.
"Yep, and in red pen," he spoke against the skin of my neck.
"What if it's shit?"
"Then perhaps you'll have to do some extra credit assignment..." Zayn answered, and I could feel his breath getting hotter and closer to my neck, making me shiver.
"Mm...w-what kind of assignment?" I croaked out, biting down on my lip as his hold on me tightened, his hands now roaming over my torso and up to my chest.
"It's more of a hands on project..."
"Uhn..." I purred quietly as his fingertips grazed my left nipple through my shirt, causing it to bud up.
"Will it be hard?" I continued.
I was starting to feel the imprint of Zayn's cock up against my ass through his shorts and I swallowed hard, my heart already beating faster.
"Very..."
I took a deep breath in and out next and forced myself to move away from him, only because we had to get going soon and I knew we'd be late meeting Adrienne and Marco if we kept on like this.
"Okay...you need to stop that right now," I demanded.
But Zayn's hands quickly reached out and aggressively pulled me back into his body again.
"Are you telling me what to do, kitten?"
I shuddered, enjoying this interaction.
"I...mm, no. No I didn't mean to. Was I a bad boy?" I questioned playfully, glancing at him from over my shoulder and hiding a grin that wanted to appear on my lips.
His grip on my waist tightened. "A bit..."
And my resistance towards Zayn no longer existed. "Are you gonna punish me?"
"Mhm..."
His hands left my hips just then and I could feel Zayn reaching down to the waist of his pants, beginning to lower them when all of a sudden we were startled. Zayn jumped back so fast, practically stumbling when the front door of the guest house opened.
And Gio walked in, shuffling towards the bedroom while my door was wide open.
I wasn't sure if Gio had seen what we were doing beforehand but if he saw it, he said nothing. What was even more random was the fact that he was walking in carrying a massive bouquet of flowers that consisted of both mauve carnations and white corianders.
"Erm...Harry. These were just delivered to you," Gio announced as he walked towards me, handing me the bouquet.
I was so confused. "What? Flowers...?"
My green eyes cast over towards Zayn just then, who now looked extremely uncomfortable and just as bewildered as I was, which meant that they weren't from him. I hesitated, my brows narrowing as I glanced down and spotted a card tucked into the side of the pink wrappings. With nimble fingers I pulled it out and read what it said:
Congratulations on being pretty fucking gay. Proud of you. Enjoy your summer dick.
x, Nick
I proceeded to snort with subtle laughter under my breath and shook my head, now chuckling quietly to myself. It was just like Nick to do something this random, this weird and this embarrassing.
"So who are they from?" Gio questioned nosily.
I cleared my throat, stuffing the card back into the bouquet quickly because I definitely did not want him to read what it said. "They're just a joke from a friend who thinks he's funny."
"Ahh," he responded, nodding slowly. "Well I can put them in a vase for you if you'd like."
"Sure. Thanks so much Gio," I replied, handing him back the flowers after I snatched the card out of the bouquet and threw it onto the bed behind me.
"So are you two ready for the yacht adventure?" Gio asked us.
And apparently he wasn't planning on going away any time soon. Zayn was still standing there quietly in the room, looking more awkward than ever.
"Mhm, should be loads of fun. Thank you again for letting us use it, by the way. You're too kind, as always," I said with an appreciative smile.
"My pleasure, Harry. Well..." Gio responded, then passing his view at Zayn. "I hope you all enjoy enjoy your double date today. It's going to be such a beautiful day to be out on the water, splendida."
I saw Zayn's brown eyes widen when Gio referred to our plans as a double date. Nerves bubbled in the pit of my stomach for a second, feeling unsure of what it was that I should say. But Gio just smiled warmly and placed the flowers down on the dresser.
He then moved towards Zayn and drew him in for a tight hug. Gio gave Zayn an endearing peck on the cheek and rubbed at his back next, and I watched as Zayn tentatively did the same to him.
"You do know that you don't have to keep who you are from me, right?" Gio spoke lowly to Zayn and I was in complete shock when I heard him say it.
"I have known for awhile now."
Zayn withdrew himself from Gio's embrace and his face fell into surprise.
"You have?"
"Sì, and I care for you always, amore mio. It doesn't matter to me or to anyone who's important to us."
I was doing everything in my power not to smile at how precious this moment was between Gio and Zayn, and I could tell by the look on his face that it also meant a lot to him.
"And be good to Harry. I like him," he added, patting Zayn on the arm before sending me a wink, then proceeding to grab the bouquet on his way out the door.
Zayn rubbed at his jaw in thought, still appearing to be somewhat stunned by what had just happened with Gio and there was a pensive lull of quiet lingering between us for a few long seconds before I finally cleared my throat.
"So..."
"So..." Zayn echoed. "Did I just get called out?"
I cracked a smile. "I believe so"
"I...I wasn't expecting that."
"Me either."
"How did he know?"
"No idea," I replied with a shrug. "But do you at least feel better now, though?"
Zayn nodded to me and made his way back over to where I stood by the end of the bed, shoving In Watermelon Sugar into the duffle bag and his hands reached out to massage at my shoulders, squeezing me there while I groaned, enjoying the sudden release of tension that I always felt from having such a bad back.
"Yeah, a lot better actually. Relieved," Zayn responded. "Saves me from having to do the whole awkward coming out speech that I've been avoiding."
I turned around to face him, now taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "So...do we still have to keep this thing between us a secret from everyone else? Because...I don't really care if people know that I'm gay and if you don't care then..."
Zayn lifted his hand up, holding the side of my face delicately. "No, we don't have to hide it anymore."
"Really?" I returned with elation.
He smiled. "Really."
"So can I stay till the morning?"
"No," he teased, sticking his tongue out at me.
I knew that he was probably joking but I still puffed out my bottom lip, pouting back at him with a dramatic affect and he tapped me on the cheek playfully.
Zayn then promptly reached forward and snatched the card Nick had left with the flowers and started reading it, laughing to himself.
"Wait so...you're gay?" he asked amusingly.
"I mean...yeah, I think so."
"I thought you'd lean more towards being bi or pansexual or something."
I hadn't really considered the importance of putting a label on myself or anything, but as I sat there and thought more about it, the only thing that came to mind was what I said next.
"Well I do really fucking love cock."
Zayn started laughing at me. "No shit Sherlock. I think that's pretty obvious."
I smiled bashfully.
"But are you still sexually attracted to women?" Zayn inquired.
"Well I certainly haven't been thinking about them. Like, at all," I responded while naturally glancing down at Zayn's crotch.
Yep, that's all I wanted to see.
Zayn was still persistently on this topic. "Think you'll ever have sex with a girl again?"
These were all questions that I hadn't asked myself yet, ones that I hadn't even pondered on or thought much about ever since the first night that I kissed Zayn by the fire, and now that I was full-on experiencing what it was like to be with a guy, I just didn't see the appeal in going back to who I used to be.
I really didn't feel the same anymore.
"I don't know if I'd still be into it. I believe you may have permanently converted me," I answered him truthfully.
Zayn held out his hand and I grabbed on. He lifted me up off the bed so that I was standing before him again and he drew me back in by the waist, pressing his lips to mine right away, delivering that warmth back into my body that I had become so obsessed with needing to have lately.
And he spoke lowly against my lips. "Good."
* * * * *
Their yacht was called Sunray and it was lavish, big enough to hold four cabins, white in color and with a navy blue stripe down the side. There was a generous living area on board as well including a full-beam lounge with long white sofas and a spacious dining area. On the bridge deck there sat a large, jacuzzi spa tub with bamboo finishing and on the sun deck there was a fully stocked mini bar.
There were also two jet skis, a wakeboard, paddle boards, a kayak, diving and fishing equipment stored under the lower deck and I was full on acting just like an exuberant little kid on Christmas morning once we finally arrived to Viareggio on the Tyrrhenian Sea after driving for what felt like ages.
But I also loved a good road trip, especially when it consisted of Zayn and loud music, just cruising along in his black Ferrari.
The first thing that Zayn did once Betto, the captain that Gio had hired for the day, drove the yacht out onto the ocean was lay back on a comfortable lounge chair, sparking up a fat blunt on the sun deck.
And I laid beside him under summer sky, browning my skin as I glanced over at Adrienne in her ridiculously tiny coral bikini and Marco with his long brown hair pulled back into a low pony tail, and they were already pouring out glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.
"So Gio knows now?" Adrienne asked as she waltzed over, handing us each a glass of wine.
"Yup, and apparently he already knew," Zayn responded as he blew a giant, puffy cloud of weed smoke out from his pursed lips and it spiraled up into the salt air.
Marco took a seat next to me. "Did you tell him?"
"I didn't say anything. I would never."
"Well, he must have picked up on all of your longing stares at Harry during family dinner," said Marco to Zayn, flashing him a cheeky grin.
"See Zayn? I told you he wouldn't care and that he would support you. You're always so paranoid about shit for no reason and it wasn't even this big thing that you made it out to be," Adrienne remarked as she gulped down nearly half of the wine in her glass.
"Yeah...guess you were right," Zayn said to Adrienne after another hit off the blunt.
She quipped back. "I'm right most of the time, Z. Get with the program."
Zayn chuckled and got up from where he was laying, meandering over towards the bar and he pulled out an acoustic guitar that had been hiding behind it. He moved slowly with his soft, stoned eyes and started playing this pretty melody. Zayn then started singing lyrics softly in that angelic voice of his, but they were in another language that was unfamiliar to me.
"Chaudvin Ka Chand ho Ya Aaftaab Ho Jo Bhi Ho Tum Khuda Ki Kasam Lajawab Ho..."
I had no idea what he was saying but it sounded beautiful.
"What is that?" I questioned curiously.
"It's Hindi," he stopped singing to explain.
"What? You can speak Hindi as well? Seriously how many different languages do you know?"
"Five," said Zayn as he continued to strum out a different wordless melody.
"But I'm also trying to learn Japanese at the minute so it'll probably end up being six at some point," he added as he snubbed out his blunt and replaced it with a freshly lit cigarette.
I shook my head in disbelief. "You are insane."
"If by insane you mean cultured then yes," he quipped back.
The thing with Zayn was that he was so fucking handsome, so incredibly talented, so different, so diverse, so smart, so bloody interesting, and so good at sex that it made me feel like I was a total fucking loser. It was like Zayn was the sun, the life force of all living things and everything in the universe revolved around him.
Sometimes I really thought he was way too bright for me.
"So what do the song lyrics even mean?"
"Not telling you."
"Rude."
And because Zayn was all those things and then some, it was beginning to motivate me to learn more, to try more, to do more, to be more. I didn't want to pale in comparison to him and sometimes when I really stopped to dwell on it, I wondered why he even liked me in the first place.
* * * * *
Marco, Adrienne and I were the only ones who went swimming that afternoon, of course, and no matter how much I pleaded and attempted to convince Zayn to come along, he simply wouldn't budge. I certainly hadn't expected it, though. Zayn wouldn't even go swimming in his own pool, let alone out to sea.
I had decided to change out of my swim trunks after I got back and was slipping into a comfortable pair of shorts inside one of the yacht's cabins when I heard Zayn speaking on the phone in the hallway not far from where I was. I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying because his voice was a bit muffled, so I carefully crept closer to the door.
I don't know what kept possessing me to invade his privacy the way that I did. Maybe it was because he was still mysterious to me in many ways and I just wanted to know what it was that Zayn got up to when I wasn't around.
And maybe it was nosy and wrong of me, but I never once claimed to be a saint.
"I told you that I needed a break from this," Zayn said to someone on the phone, the tone of his voice sounded rather agitated as he spoke.
I was only able to hear his side of the conversation.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah I know but I meant that."
"Of course I still do."
"I'm sorry Remi, I have to go."
I froze there, latching onto that name. Remi. And what was he talking about a break for? Nothing about that conversation made any sense to me. I didn't know who that was or what Zayn was talking about, but something about the way that it sounded did not make me feel very good, not at all.
But I had to force a reminder upon myself that it wasn't any of my business and I couldn't say anything about it because then he would know that I listened in on him, and then he'd be mad at me and I could not stand the thought of Zayn being mad at me.
So I let it go, even though I knew it would stay lingering in the back of my mind anyway.
* * * * *
The afternoon grew later still as the yacht crashed through the rolling blue waves and by then it was getting closer to dinner and we were starting to drink heavily. I had several glasses of wine by then and Adrienne and Marco definitely had consumed much more, and then there was Zayn who touched just one glass and two massive blunts, so he was soaring high.
He smoked a lot, I noticed. But Zayn was always so chill compared to everyone else and it seemed to be such a normal part of his life that it hardly even made a difference to his personality whenever he was high.
I came to learn that Zayn was the type of person who pretty much acted the same whether he was high or not, whereas I was obnoxious, clingy and a total mess every time I was under the influence of anything.
"So Harry, how long do we get to keep you before you leave us and go back to London?"
Adrienne had asked me this question out of nowhere as we all ended up back in our swim suits later where we now sat in the jacuzzi spa, and that included Zayn next to me in the hot water. It was the closest I was ever going to be on getting him to swim.
"End of August I have to go train for football season," I answered, sipping on my wine.
"We really do have to go to one of your games," Adrienne insisted.
"Yeah we definitely will, bebè," Marco confirmed to her, leaning in to kiss her.
"Oh!" she then shouted, breaking away from him to direct her excitement towards me. "And we should throw you a massive going away party before you leave!"
I grinned. "Yeah, that would be sick."
Zayn remained somewhat quiet during this conversation that we were having. I licked my lips in thought and started to think more about it, even though it was something I had been trying to avoid all summer. I knew that life would eventually be different once I returned to London. All the fun would end and reality would creep back around.
It made me feel gloomy.
Soon after a fairly drunk Adrienne and tipsy Marco left both me and Zayn in the jacuzzi spa and I was pretty sure that they had probably snuck off to have sex in one of the cabins. So I glanced over at Zayn as he sat beside me in the hot, bubbling water and he lit up another cigarette.
But he was still being quiet.
"You okay?"
"Yeah I'm good," Zayn replied, inhaling.
"You've been sort of still. Care to share what's on your mind?"
And I hated that I immediately retrieved the memory from earlier of Zayn on the phone with that Remi person and felt the uneasy lurch in my stomach again.
"Just enjoying the moment," he mused in a relaxed voice.
"Yeah it's nice and calming," I agreed, moving closer to him.
"Mhm," he breathed out.
I was waiting impatiently for Zayn to put his hand on my thigh or something, or for him to crawl his fingers up to my shorts and rub my cock through them, or to at least kiss me. These were the types of responses that I had gotten used to from him and whenever I wasn't getting attention I felt weird; I didn't like it.
Maybe I was just too spoiled now.
"You sure that's all?" I prodded.
"Yep, I'm just chillin babe."
I smiled at him when he called me babe. "Okay."
He then raised his wet hand out from under the jacuzzi water and lifted my chin up with it, luring me closer to his mouth until he left a small, soft kiss upon my lips. It wasn't given to me with the same full force that he usually did, but I took what I could get.
* * * * *
Later on the sun was staring to set over the horizon delivering the most beautiful shades of pink and gold, almost a hot pink, and I took like 25 pictures of it on my phone because I knew that I wanted to remember that moment forever.
The breeze was picking up by then so I wrapped myself up in one of Zayn's thin zip-up sweatshirts, slate grey in color and cozied right up in it, engulfed in the scent of his Gucci cologne.
We were all still out on the bridge deck of the yacht, but now sitting around a glass table and there was plenty of wine going around but Adrienne had taken it upon herself to bring out the tequila shots at that point.
She continued to have this tendency of insisting that we played drinking games and now we were deep in a game of Never Have I Ever. The point was that each person had to say something that they've never done before and if someone has done it, they had to take a shot. It was pretty simple and revealing, and it appeared that all three of them were ganging up on me, specifically.
"Never have I ever gone skinny dipping," said Marco.
I took a shot.
"Never have I ever watched gay porn," said Adrienne.
I took a shot.
"Never have I ever taken MDMA," said Zayn.
I took a shot.
"Fuck you guys! You're all out to get me!" I exclaimed.
The liquor hit my head hard and everyone was now laughing at me, even Zayn who had reached out to squeeze at my thigh with this mischievous glint in his eye.
And that's the look I wanted him to give me.
I decided to get back at Marco and Adrienne. "Well, never have I ever been in a serious relationship."
Then Adrienne, Marco and Zayn all took a tequila shot.
I immediately whipped my attention toward Zayn with astonishment as he threw back the booze, but he said nothing and offered no explanation.
But it was Adrienne instead of me this time who went on to inquire more about it. "Wait Zayn...you were in a serious relationship?"
Apparently I wasn't the only one who didn't know about this.
"Mhm."
"What? For how long?" Marco interjected.
And I was even more astounded to learn that the only two people who had even known Zayn was gay all this time didn't even know this particular piece of information.
"Like, almost a year," Zayn answered plainly.
"With a guy?" Adrienne continued.
"Yeah."
Everyone was just as surprised as I was by this newfound fact about Zayn. And there it was again, that drunk sting of jealousy that I felt before when I saw him talk to Vin at Marco's party and I sat there quietly, mulling over the concept of Zayn and another guy together and I started to feel very, very insecure for some reason.
Adrienne was still stuck on it, too. "You literally have never mentioned this to anyone."
"Well I wasn't really out," Zayn explained.
"Who was it?" she asked.
Damn she was coming on strong, worse than me.
"Just someone from boarding school."
"So what happened?"
"What's with the fucking interrogation!? Can't we just move on and keep playing or no?" Zayn snapped, and everyone just sort of sat there wide-eyed and awkward for a minute.
Especially me.
* * * * *
We left the yacht soon after that game ended. Night had fallen as Zayn and I walked to his parked Ferrari. I was still feeling strange having learned that he used to be in a serious relationship with someone, with a guy. I knew that I probably shouldn't feel like that, especially since it was before Zayn and I reconnected, and it was an aspect of his life that nobody else was a part of, clearly.
Plus, I had been with people before as well, so why wouldn't Zayn? But the part that I couldn't seem to let go of no matter how much I tried to talk my mind out of it, was the serious part of that equation.
A serious relationship.
I buckled myself into the front seat of Zayn's Ferrari while he tossed our bags into the trunk, feeling heavy headed as I laid my head back on the leather seat. He hopped into the driver's seat and jammed the keys into the ignition, music from The Eagles already blaring from the speakers.
You can't hide your lying eyes and your smile is a thin disguise. I thought by now you'd realize, there ain't no way to hide your lying eyes.
Clearing my throat, I gazed out the window as Zayn sped off into the summer night air. We let the music play out between us for quite awhile, not really talking to each other and I decided I didn't mind it because at least it was keeping me distracted from all the stupid shit I was thinking about.
But Zayn turned it down eventually and looked over at me as we sped down the freeway.
"Something's the matter."
"What? Nothing's the matter," I lied.
He didn't believe me. "It's not nothing."
And then it happened again just like it always did, the filter in my brain breaking. "So were you ever going to mention to me that you have an ex boyfriend?"
"Was I supposed to?"
"I guess not," I grumbled.
He was defensive. "Do I ever ask you about all of the girls you've ever been with?"
"No you don't."
"Exactly," Zayn affirmed.
He seemed to think that he had settled the conversation and turned the music back up. It was Shania Twain that came on next and as much as I was tempted to start singing Man! I feel like a woman, I didn't. I couldn't. The only thought that was harassing my mind in that moment was Zayn being intimate with some other guy, being together all seriously and having sex, probably experiencing the things that I did and feelings had obviously been involved.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to care about this.
I then turned down the volume on the stereo and decided to ask Zayn the one thing that I both did and didn't want to know and it felt like I was torturing myself on purpose.
"Did you love him?"
"What?" Zayn fired back in shock, looking at me as if I had just told him I killed a man.
"Did you love him?" I repeated the question, already regretting it.
"Why are you asking me this, Harry?"
But I remained persistent because I had already opened the can of worms and there was no going back now. "I just want to know."
"Well I don't want to answer," Zayn responded flatly.
I took that as a yes. "So you did love him."
Zayn kept his eyes on the road and didn't even bother looking at me as he spoke. "This is such a weird conversation to be having with you."
What I really needed was either someone to put a wad of duct tape over my mouth so that I couldn't talk, or maybe next time I'd ask for a babysitter to make sure I don't down tequila shots ever again because clearly hard alcohol and my brain did not mix well together unless it was just some mindless fun; but not this.
"Why is it weird? Aren't we friends? Friends tell each other stuff," I said and I could feel the bullshit in my mouth as I said it.
"Harry..." he started to say, but I cut him off.
"Is it Remi?"
If we weren't on the freeway I just know that Zayn would have slammed on the breaks.
"Where did you get that name from?" he shot out at me, his tone growing irate.
"You were talking on the phone to some dude named Remi earlier after I came back from swimming. You were outside the cabin door and I heard you."
"Care to explain to me why are you constantly fucking eavesdropping?"
It was amazing how I could go from desperately trying to ensure that Zayn didn't get upset with me to doing the exact opposite of that, and once I started I just couldn't stop. It was probably one of my absolute worst personality traits.
Stubbornness; especially when combined with intoxication.
And then came the uninhibited honesty.
"Because I just want to know you, Zayn. You don't tell me much. I hardly know anything about your fancy boarding school or about how you spent the last five years..."
But if there was someone who could be more stubborn than me, it was Zayn. "I do tell you shit. I just didn't know I had to recite a fucking autobiography for you."
The vexed tone of his voice was really starting to distress me now and my emotions altered from incessant nagging to self loathing. I was mad at myself, yet again. It felt like I was pushing all of the big red buttons that say DON'T PUSH like I was some impish little kid, and what was worse was that I cared way too much about this whole thing.
All I wanted was to keep myself from ruining the rest of my summer with Zayn and yet somehow I had this impeccable ability at finding ways to do it anyway.
"Fine sorry. You don't have to do anything," I gave in, and turned away to look out the window.
I heard Zayn sigh gruffly. "Look. There's just some stuff that I don't feel is necessary to talk about. Its not like we're..."
"It's not like we're what?"
"Never mind."
But I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say and took a stab at it.
"It's not like we're in a relationship?"
Zayn swallowed. "Well...we're not."
I folded my arms across my chest, sort of feeling miffed by the way he said it.
"I know that."
"Okay," he said firmly.
"Okay then."
"Glad to see we're on the same page," Zayn confirmed again, like I didn't hear it harsh enough the first time.
I spoke dryly. "Yup. Same page."
Zayn then drove faster down the freeway and he didn't make any effort in saying anything else to me for the rest of the drive back to Florence, so I turned the music up so loud that it felt like I was going to lose my hearing, only because I wanted to obliterate every last intrusive thought that I had.
And Zayn hadn't bothered to turn the music down, either.
* * * * *
Zayn pulled his Ferrari into the driveway once we got back to the house and I got out of it as quickly as I could, grabbing the duffle from his back seat. The first thing I did was sling it over my shoulder and storm around back to the patio, walking across the stepping stones toward the guest house in the back and I didn't even glance over my shoulder to check and see if Zayn was following me or not.
But he was.
I heard his voice behind me. "Harry wait..."
I don't know exactly why I was acting like this, like some jealous fool, but I just couldn't turn around and look at Zayn even though I wanted to. I opened the door to the guest house and dropped my duffle on the kitchen floor, stalking towards the bedroom and flopped right down onto the bed, laying on my stomach.
Zayn had still been behind me and was now moving towards the bed where I laid.
"Harry," he said again, much louder this time.
"Yeah?" I groaned into the comforter.
"I hate whatever's going on right now between us. I can't let it continue on like this so how can I fix it?"
I sighed and flipped over onto my back, eyes casted down as Zayn flicked the light switch on the wall so that we could see through the dark.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm acting like this. I'm just annoying," I muttered.
"You aren't annoying," Zayn struck back.
"I am though."
"No, you're not."
I groaned again and shut my eyes tight, my head now throbbing from the combination of still being drunk and also being frustrated by the emotional rollercoaster that I was now apparently riding even though I fucking hated rollercoasters.
Zayn then laid down beside me on the bed, straight on his side and placed a hand over my torso, rubbing me gently there and I felt warm again. I turned my head to view his face, staring into his soft brown eyes and wondered how on Earth he could possibly deal with me.
Even I didn't want to deal with me.
"I like you," I said out loud to him as I turned my body onto my side as well, and we were now facing each other and laying just like that.
He smiled faintly. "I like you too."
"Why?"
"Why do I like you?" Zayn countered, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah."
Zayn's hand slowly made its way to my curls and twirled a particular springy one through his fingers as he answered. "I don't think I have enough time to list all the reasons why."
I shifted uncomfortably, wishing that what he was doing and saying was making me feel better and I hated that for some reason it wasn't.
"Maybe you shouldn't."
Zayn removed his fingers from my curls. "What? What do you mean?"
"Maybe we shouldn't like each other, maybe not this much," I suggested glumly, feeling conflicted and out of sorts.
Zayn did not seem to be understanding me, either. "Why not?"
I sighed deeply. "Because it'll all have to end soon when I leave...and I don't want to be sad."
Zayn frowned. "Well, I don't want to see you sad."
This was not what I wanted, not even close. In fact, this type of situation was exactly the opposite of what I wanted. Zayn and I were supposed to be all over each other and fucking right now, not arguing and making things weird and confusing. Not me being jealous and acting all sappy and sad; no, this was not the move.
This was not me. I was not this person.
"I'm so pathetic," I whined, covering my face with my hand in embarrassment.
Zayn then removed my hand from my face and held it in his. "You really need to stop talking shit about yourself."
"I never used to be like this," I proclaimed. "Like all up in my head."
Zayn responded, attempting to offer me some reassurance. "I can be like that too sometimes so I get it."
I was really starting to appreciate his continued patience with me.
"So what do you want me to do? Is what we're doing too much? Do you want me to back off a little?" Zayn asked, letting me decide.
But the answer flew right out of my mouth without any hesitation.
"No. Never."
Zayn proceeded to squeezed my hand while he held onto it still and then brought it up to his supple lips, kissing softly on each of my fingers while he spoke. "Okay good because I'm not sure if I could."
That did the trick.
Within a matter of a half second I had moved into him quickly and kissed Zayn hard on the mouth, already on top of his body. His arms wrapped around my back immediately, holding me close to him as our wet tongues danced together, slipping and sliding, lips moving rhythmically, sucking and moaning as the frequency escalated.
Everything between us became heated like a rapid fire once again, automatic every time as he began clutching at the white, slightly disheveled and faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that I had on, working his way to taking it off of me.
"I love this t-shirt that you're wearing. It's my favorite," he commented as he pulled it off over my head and held it in-between his hands for a second before placing it down beside us on the bed.
"Is it?"
That t-shirt was probably the oldest shirt that I owned; I've had it forever and there were several holes in the armpits and everything. In fact, it was most likely the worst looking shirt ever. I don't even know why I still wore it.
"That's the shirt you were wearing the first time that I touched you," Zayn expounded before drawing me back into his lips for another long, passion-filled kiss.
* * * * *
Zayn and I had the most incredible sex twice in a row, and after we were exhausted and sweaty we just laid there together on the bed, trying to catch our breath. I could now sense the feelings that existed between me and Zayn because they were living behind every touch, every kiss, every thrust and it was becoming impossible to ignore.
I knew what I had said before about needing to keep an emotional distance from Zayn but I kept on closing the gap between me and his heart without even meaning to, and no matter how much I tried to run in the other direction, there was no use.
I was falling for him, headfirst.