I rush to the phone and leave a grumpy Zayn behind.
"Mood killer! Bummer!" It is shouting from the bedroom.
I am annoyed.
"Zayn, we'll make it up later, okay?" I say.
"But I want you now! You can't just turn me on first and then just leave me like that! That does not work that way, Curly! Phone calls are not important!".
Then he throws a pillow at me, it hits me on the head.
"Yesssss". Zayn squeaks happily and sticks his tongue out.
"Malik, if you don't rest for five minutes now, then I'll show you the next few weeks what sexual frustration actually means! I swear! You better make a nice breakfast, okay?"
"You are my breakfast !" he moans and strolls into the bathroom.
"Hello."
"Hi Harold, it's me, Lou."
"Oh, hi Lou!"
"What 's going on?"
"I hope I don't disturb you." "
No, not at all. Are you calling for a reason?"
"Are you home, Harry? Could I stop by?"
"Um, that's just bad, I'm still on the way."
"Harreeehhhh !!!!", it roars from the kitchen. "Harreeehhh!!!
"Who is screaming?"
"Lou, listen, I'm home in the evening. Come over and we'll talk, won't you?"
"Okay, Harry, thanks."Bye, Lou."
"Bye, Harry.
I put my phone aside and head to the kitchen to check on my man. He stands behind the stove and cooks a hearty breakfast. My eyes widen and I can't hardly take my eyes off him. There he stands, only in his tight black boxers.
"Hello, chef." I whisper and run around the kitchen island.
Zayn cheerfully laughs at me.
"Where did we stop earlier?", I try to lure him and lean against him from behind.
"I'm sorry, I can't remember, Mister," he countered.
Then he releases himself from my embrace and fills the plates.
" Well, then I give you a hint, Mister Malik!" I reply.
"Too late! The chef is currently not available!" He jokes and I pout.
We sit at the table, have fried eggs with bacon and drink steaming tea from large porcelain cups. Zayn cleaned up the livingroom earlier.
"Gosh, the floor looks terribly dirthy." I say.
"Amanda comes to clean up tomorrow. She's a pearl." He responds to my statement.
"Who was that on the phone before?" Zayn asks, sipping his tea.
I can literally feel my rising blush on the face. I'm embarrassed. I look down at my plate and say:
"Louis."
Zayn's expression getting hard. He pinches his eyebrows and leaves the table. I run after him and reach for his arm.
"Are you angry?" I whisper.
"What does he want, Harry? What's the matter with you two?" He snorts.
"Zayn ... he wanted to talk to me. He'll come over in the evening and then I'll know more."
I'm uncomfortable with the situation.
"You don't realize it, how he looks at you, do you? You don't want to see it, right?" I'm sick of it, Harry! I'm so tired of Tomlinson! I'm so sick and tired of the whole thing ! ", he yells.