🏁
The One With An Unexpected Reunion
"She used to believe that love should feel like a storm—passionate, raw and raging. But so many storms have come and left her more broken than before. Now, she looks for a love that feels like a night after the storm is over."
— Cynthia Go
A/N:
okay, so this will be a chapter y'all will be excited for, so I expect comments! 😤
fr, though, pls spam me with some 🥺 it's a fairly long chapter and lots happens so it'll be nice to know your thoughts 🥰
go back and read that chapter title again and give me your guess as to what is being unexpectedly reunited... am I playing y'all or is it about it be real lit???
enjoy! 💙
A R I E L L E
Music hums lowly in the space and I glance around at the people surrounding me. People I don't know. People of such financial status that I'll never run in their social circle in this lifetime or the next.
I'm not even entirely fucking sure what this event is. All I can tell you is that there's a shit ton of people, they're loaded with money, and there isn't a person in here that I haven't found to not be snooty.
Other than us—the rest of my peers who can't afford the bottle of champagne they're passing around in tall stemmed glasses.
I didn't even get to properly meet his co-workers. We'd decided to not do introductions tonight, we'd only just privately decided to label one another boyfriend or girlfriend. I suggested we wait so that his co-workers didn't jump to conclusions about his love life, considering it wasn't that long ago when he was with Natalie.
I have to admit, though, the dinner was incredible. Some fancy ass French dinner that I couldn't pronounce even if I wanted to. The drinks have also been flowing, but I've only been sipping my delicious champagne, for fear that if I have too much to drink, I'll make an ass of myself and embarrass James.
I glance down at my dress, making sure I still look the part. I don't know a single soul in here besides James—and he's been fairly busy on and off all night—so the only thing I can do is glance around at conversations and fix my dress.
The dress I spent a pretty penny on. It's form-fitting, floor length and a red satiny material. There's a deep v in the front and thin straps over my shoulders. The back is also a little risqué for this crowd—it's scooped low, so much so that it rests just above my ass—and I've received many looks because of it.
I decided to lightly curl my hair, having the waves cascade down my back. I'd also chosen to go with a smokey eye and red lipstick to match the dress.
I spin on my heel, looking for James, finding him in the corner with a group of guests that I don't know. He must sense my eyes on him because he turns his head, wetting his lips as he drags his gaze from my feet to my eyes.
A flutter of warmth spreads up my body and I tilt my glass back, finishing off my champagne as he dismisses himself from the guests and moves to approach me.
He looks good. So fucking good. In his crisp black suit, his black dress shirt, and his red tie that matches perfectly to my dress.
"You bored yet?" He asks in a teasing tone as he closes the distance between us, stopping just a few steps in front of me. His hand twitches toward my hip, but he puts it down and I'm positive it's because he craves to touch me but is holding back since he's at work.
I shake my head. "There's lots to look at."
"Yeah?" He smirks, peering around us. "What in here is nice to look at?" He steps forward, so that he's able to whisper, "Do old, rich men get you off, Arielle?"
I pull my head back so I'm able to meet his eyes and I raise an eyebrow as I challenge, "And what if they did?"
"I'd have to rethink everything about me," he admits, glancing down at his suit. He then drags his eyes down my body and I watch his throat contract as he swallows slowly, fighting the urge to touch me. He suddenly looks over his shoulder and then grabs my hand, "C'mere," he mutters and then yanks me forward with such force that I stumble on my own feet.
He tries to keep his cool as he makes me follow him, fixing his tie and pulling me to his side, but I can tell in his hurried steps that he's desperate to get out of this particular room.
At first, he leads me to the family bathroom, trying the handle but he quickly finds out it's occupied. My heart rate picks up, adrenaline shooting through my veins as he surveys our surroundings.
I squeeze his hand in mine as an inaudible way to tell him that I need him to find somewhere private and I hear him curse lowly. "Fuck it," and then he's pulling me towards an Employees Only area, clearly marked by a large sign.
After a few corners that I don't care to memorize, we enter a room and James does a quick walk around to make sure it's completely empty. When he's satisfied, he comes back to me in a hurry.
James pushes me up to the wall with a grunt and I don't even have a chance to moan because his mouth is hot on mine. He grabs my waist in his large hands, pulling my body flush to his and I release a quiet gasp when he moves his mouth along my jawline and then down my throat.
My fingers thread through his hair. I find myself wishing we were at one of our places—preferably his, if I'm being honest—so I could yank his pants down and take him in my mouth, all while he observes me and undoes the silk tie around his neck.
A shudder rips up my spine at the thought.
He uses a hand to grip my jaw and reunites our mouths, sliding his tongue past my lips with ease. We stay like that—bodies pressed together, hands all over one another, kissing so hard and passionately that my knees go weak—until we both need to break apart for air.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing hard. When we hear someone drop something in the kitchen that sounds awfully like a plate, it reminds us that we're in public. "We should probably save the rest for later, Principessa."
I cup his jaw in my hand, placing another slow, seductive kiss to his mouth. I hold his gaze as I lean over slightly, hooking my hands beneath the hem of my dress to hike it up.
James' breathing becomes more laboured as he observes me reveal skin to him. His irises turn dark and I can see the familiar look of lust and hunger as he watches me slip my fingers under the waistband to my silk thong, dragging it down my legs.
He sucks in air between his clenched teeth harshly as they fall to my ankles and I step out of the undergarment, crumpling it up in my hand.
"What are you doing, Arielle?" He says in a low husk, barely audible.
"Call it incentive to go home earlier," I muse, standing to my height to breathe the words against the shell of his ear as I sneakily deposit the thong in his pants pocket.
He smiles, kissing me softly before he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers as he leads us back towards the space where the event is being held. Hopefully, nobody has noticed James' absence. The last thing I'd want is for him to get in trouble because of me.
Just before we are back into the main room, I stop him, rubbing my red lipstick off his mouth.
The moment we step past the doors, our hands distance and I take a step away from him to ensure that we don't look too close. Eventually, he continues on straight and I veer off towards the bathrooms to make sure that I don't look like a mess.
I quickly check myself in the mirror, fixing a bit of my hair that got fucked up and I do a once over of my dress and makeup. Once I'm satisfied, I head back out of the bathroom in search of James.
Walking into the room, I glance around the crowd, trying to find his familiar frame. After a minute or two of sauntering through the people and awkwardly pushing past groups, I find him enjoying the company of a few men. I take a moment to collect myself before I head over.
I'm nearly there when my phone buzzes in my clutch and I stop to read a text from Chase.
Chase: have fun tonight crazy kids!!!! I packed extra condoms for you 😉 😘
I roll my eyes, deciding I'll answer him later. As I take the last few steps towards James, I'm distracted trying to put my phone back inside my clutch and so, I don't look up until I'm positioned beside James and my phone is put away.
The second I lift my chin, my world freezes and my heart sinks so fast in my chest that it quite literally knocks the air from my lungs.
Zayn.
My expression of shock isn't shared, however, because he seems distant. Cold. Indifferent to the fact that I'm standing maybe five feet away from him after not seeing him for over three months.
My skin flames from being near him and my heart goes from having sunken to doing some stupid little dolphin flip. I'm left speechless, trying to decipher if what I'm seeing in front of me is real life or if I've somehow managed to dream this up. When my eyes meet Zayn's, I swallow with difficulty, wetting my lips as his eyes drag down my body and back up—setting me completely ablaze.
My fingers find my wrist and I pinch the skin there—a gesture that Zayn notices—as I attempt to convince myself that what I'm seeing isn't some sick, twisted sort of illusion.
How is he out of prison? Why is he here? How long has he been out?
I want to run to him, simultaneously hugging and slapping him for what he did to me when he pulled that whole letter fiasco.
Then again, I'd love for him to push me up against the nearest surface, bend me over it and fuck me like only he can.
He looks so fucking sexy in his suit that it makes it hard to not ogle him. But he's always the most attractive person in any room. He somehow demands attention, even though he's not necessarily asking for it.
"Ella, darling," the voice cuts through me like a stab wound to the abdomen. I turn my head to see Ezra's icy blue eyes and he smirks, aware of the situation. In fact, I think everyone that stands in this circle is aware of the situation.
Except there's one huge thing that is massively confusing.
Why in the fuck is Zayn standing next to one of the two men in this world who I hate most?
And Langley. I shoot him a glare, recalling the time he savagely beat up Zayn.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zayn rubbing his thumb over the knuckles on his other hand. As I study more intently, I notice the faint cuts, as well as the fading of bruises.
What happened? Did Ezra make him do something? Did he have to fight for his life because of a situation that Ezra put him in?
I try to swallow my anger, but it's fucking impossible.
I shoot Ezra a harsh glare, clenching my fist at my side to hide exactly what I'm feeling. As much as I would love to scream and rage at Ezra, I can't make a scene in James' place of work. It's obvious that he knows that, too. He's not a moron and I know he's going to use it to his advantage.
"What are you doing here, Ezra?" My voice is laced with venom, to the point where I can feel James' gaze as it shifts to me and he's likely staring at me with confusion about the whole situation.
"I'm a business man, Ella."
Bile rises in my throat as he recites the disgusting nickname a second time.
"Wait, how do you two know each other?" James questions, which causes me to finally make eye contact with him. I can read it all on his face—he's trying to piece together what's going on but I know once I utter the words, he'll know.
"Ezra is my stepfather," I confess, watching as his expression quickly changes. From uncertainty to anger, it's like a fucking light switch.
However, he hides it extremely well, as he turns back to the man. "Isn't that mad? Him and I only met a few weeks ago when he offered me a job on his security team."
What?
I swallow my anger. There's no way Ezra just happened to randomly meet James right after him and I started to form a friendship. That's no fucking coincidence.
A lump suddenly forms in my throat because I instantly feel like crying. Knowing that Ezra is stalking my personal life, looking into and meeting people I've been in contact with, is enough to make me feel beyond uneasy. I've always known that he's been too insistent in my life, crossing boundaries that he shouldn't, but he's never gone to the extent of meeting people that I was merely friends with at the time.
Or, at least, not to my knowledge.
Plus, the fact that he offered James a job is fucking insane. I know that James couldn't have realized that Ezra is my stepfather—the very same one I told him about—and so he couldn't have possibly steered clear of him. He had no idea when Ezra was offering him a job that it was coming from the man he knows murdered my father.
I hope to fuck he didn't accept the offer.
"Is that so?" I question, with a raised eyebrow. My chest heaves as I slowly move my gaze to the right, finding Zayn's eyes. "And Zayn, you're out of prison?"
He nods his head, "Yeah, yeah, good to be out."
Is it, though?
I have to admit, he looks different. I can't quite put my finger on it, but he seems quiet, meek, and angry. He just doesn't quite look like the Zayn I know and I think only someone who understands him as well as I do can observe that fact.
"H-how long have you been out?" My mouth feels dry, like I'm unable to swallow whatever he's about to throw at me.
"I picked him up from the prison gates about—how long ago was that Langley?"
I don't have time to react to the first part of that as Langley quickly responds, "About six weeks ago."
Six wee—
The words hit me like an elbow straight to my chest. I feel winded. Faint, as I hear Langley's voice reciting them over and over. Zayn's been out of prison for six fucking weeks and he didn't care enough to let me know?
I've been worrying about his safety and wellbeing for a month and a half when he's been out of prison and free? How could he not tell me?
I know he broke things off with me and I know he wanted to cease all contact between us, but wasn't that because of the seven year sentence? If he's out, why wouldn't he have gone back on that and come to me so we could be what we once were?
It doesn't matter what excuse he could possibly give, my heart is shattered at the news. I don't know how I could ever forgive him for doing something so cold to me.
And the fact that Ezra was the one to pick him up from jail? What the fuck is that all about?
My eyes, which I'm sure are full of hurt, find Ezra and I question, my voice weak, "What do you mean you picked him up at the gates?"
"I'm the one that got him out, darling." He shrugs after he speaks the words, as if what he's just uttered to me is yesterdays news. Well, I guess it's six week old news, only I'm just finding out about it now. "Are you forgetting about the conversation we had? You came to see me in my office, informed me of Zayn's incarceration and asked me for help." He pauses, taking a drink from his glass. "Well, you didn't directly ask me, but the inference was obvious. I talked to some people, pulled some strings and they started looking into Hayes and Judge Lafayette and boom, Zayn's now a free man."
A thought pops into my head at that particular moment—what does this mean for Hayes? Is he going to hear about this and suddenly make another appearance to ruin my life? As if he hasn't done enough already?
"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracks when I face Zayn, unable to keep the emotion at bay for much longer.
"Arielle," he starts and I'm even more hurt by the fact that his face is stoic—showing zero emotion, "did you not get my letter?"
"Of course I did, you asshole."
"Then you know I broke shit off with you. We're done. Over. So why would I contact you when I got out? Make it make sense."
Another metaphorical slap to the face.
And this one stings the worst.
I open my mouth to say something—I really don't know what—but I'm left looking like a fish out of water. I'm about to speak my mind, to snap at him for being so outright mean to me, but we're all torn out of conversation when someone picks up a microphone somewhere and starts speaking.
Everyone turns to look at the woman as she announces something, but I can't be bothered to listen. I'm too busy sharing eye contact with Zayn, hurt and anger written all over my face, while he simply stares back. His eyes are darker than they normally are and I honestly don't know if that's a sudden observation because of what he's just said to me and how he spoke to me or if they've been like that since I walked over here and I simply failed to notice.
Whichever it is, I was right. He isn't the same Zayn he used to be.
He's dismissive, cold and downright mean to the woman he claimed to once love.
And I don't know how to react to it. I've never been in love with someone to the degree that I was in love with Zayn and that's what makes his behaviour hurt even more. It's worse than anything I've ever experienced. This is worse than the night he went to jail because he's actually rejecting me.
The woman who laid awake for nights crying over him until her face was swollen and her stomach hurt. The woman who sat down with his lawyer for hours on end, figuring out and learning shit about the judicial system that she never knew before. The woman who sat down with the man she hates most, the man who destroyed what she once knew as a family, so she could beg and plead for him to help her.
How could he reject me with such ease? Like I'm disposable? Like everything we had meant nothing to him?
Unable to control the thoughts swirling in my head, I lift the skirt of my dress in my hands and scurry away from the group of men as fast as I possibly can. I rush into the nearest private room available—which happens to be the room James and I were in earlier—and seat myself on a chair, placing my hand to my chest in order to calm myself.
I will not fucking cry.
I will not waste another tear, another sob, another worrying thought on him.
I sink my head into my hands, resting my elbows on the table in front of me.
I know it wasn't explicitly stated, but it's obvious that Zayn is working for Ezra. The utter betrayal I feel at that alone is gut-wrenching. I've said before that there isn't any circumstance where Zayn would ever work for Ezra, yet here he is, doing just that.
I understand that Zayn has a blinding sense of loyalty and it can be a fault of his. He probably feels that sense of loyalty towards Ezra since he's the one that finally got him out of prison and his name cleared, but how could he do this to me? How could he do this to himself? To us?
Where is his sense of loyalty to me?
"Arielle?" My name is called and I glance up to see James peering down at me with concern. He sits himself down beside me, tucking me into his side. "Are you alright?"
"Fuck no," I manage to choke out.
I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm betrayed.
I feel completely unprotected. Like a creature without its shell—soft and exposed to predators. So easily and quickly destroyed, beyond crushed. Simply powder remains of what once was my exterior.
"I'm sorry," he consoles. "I didn't know Ezra Sullivan was your stepfather. If I'd have known, I'd have gotten him kicked out of here."
When my gaze meets his, I can see the guilt and the worry etched deeply into his features. He appears entirely torn up, even though none of this is his fault. "James," I start, cupping his jaw in my hand, "you didn't do anything wrong."
I don't know why he's apologizing. He doesn't have a single thing to do with any of this.
And if I had to apologize for all of the things Ezra has done, I wouldn't have a voice left.
We sit together for a few silent moments—the sound of someone on the microphone in the other room echoing in the space—in the darkness of the room. The emergency lights still provide us with enough light to see one another, but the dimness is somehow comforting as I try to control my mind.
"I just don't understand how he could reject me like that. And Ezra . . ." I trail off, needing a moment to calm myself. "He knows all of the pain Ezra has caused in my life, in my relationship with him and because Ezra gets him out of prison, he works for him now?"
I think James realizes that I just need to vent, and so he holds my hand, intertwining our fingers as he listens intently.
"Did they say anything to you about Zayn working for Ezra?"
He shakes his head. "I wasn't even aware that was Zayn until I saw your reaction."
That doesn't surprise me. James has never seen a photograph of Zayn. He's only heard countless stories about him and I and what we once were. I'm just shocked that Ezra didn't instantly introduce Zayn to James with some passive aggressive jab about us being ex-lovers.
James brushes his thumb over the back of my hand and it's soothing to me. "Did you take the job?" I question softly, not sure if I want to hear the answer. "The job with Ezra, I mean."
"No." His voice is firm, immediately making me sense there's something behind that tone. "A few weeks ago, he introduced himself to me. Said he was impressed with me and was looking at hiring a new security team. He gave me a business card and told me to think about it. I never called him."
But he didn't know that Ezra is a bad guy. "Why not?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I can't really explain it, but he just gave me this vibe. From the second I shook his hand, it just didn't feel right."
He's a good fucking judge of character.
"Why don't I take you home?"
"Don't you have to work?"
"I'll talk to my crew. They'll be able to handle it. This is more important than standing around, watching a bunch of rich men get drunk." He grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, quickly pressing a kiss to my lips.
My heart swells at his kindness, making me forget about the earlier sting of rejection, if only for a minute.
"You just stay here. It'll only take a few minutes to chat to my crew and then I'll grab my keys and we'll go."
I nod my head, not trusting my voice. When he stands, his fixes his suit before he saunters out of the room and I'm once again left alone with my thoughts.
How can the only person I've ever loved so deeply be so cold to me? How did we go from confessing our I love yous to gazing at one another with emotions of anger and a total lack of affection?
Did prison do this to him? Did he become a shell of who he once was because of his experience in a jail cell?
I don't have any clue as to what he went through while he was inside. By the time he'd cut contact off with me, he'd only been inside for about a week. That means he spent several more weeks in there and any number of things could've happened.
I also know how loyal he is. I can remember the time when we first started seeing one another. I went to his house and discovered that he had a fading bruise on his face. He absolutely refused to say who did it to him. Eventually, I figured out myself that it was Hayes. Zayn wouldn't even give up Hayes, for Christ's sake.
I stand, deciding I need to stretch my legs before I go insane. So, I begin to slowly walk around the room, glancing at the shadowed pieces of art within the space.
Instead, my brain wants to keep repeating to itself—How could he do this to me?
I devoted myself entirely to him and he does this to me? It's humiliating, it's degrading and worst of all, it's made me feel worthless. The man who once made me feel like I hung the stars in the sky has made me feel like I'm worth nothing more than a piece of garbage tossed on the street.
Feedback from the microphone bounces off the walls, mimicking thunder just as I'm admiring some modern piece of art. It startles me, causing me to jump slightly. When I turn on my heel, I find a shadowed figure standing near the doorway.
"Did you get your keys?"
When he doesn't answer, I squint in the darkness, unable to see who it is. However, when my skin flames and my heart starts racing, something deep inside me realizes exactly who it is.
I can't see his face, but I swallow thickly as I stare at the area where I know his eyes are staring right back. I can feel him on my skin.
"Arielle—" he calls out for me, but I stay put. Angry, hurt, confused and emotionally bruised from his earlier rejection.
Tears—like raindrops—have already unwillingly welled up in my eyes, my throat beginning to ache as I fight off the urge to give in to the feeling and just fucking bawl.
Didn't I just say I wouldn't waste any more tears on someone who clearly doesn't give a fuck about me? Jesus, Arielle.
Heat and electricity pulses in the room, even with the two of us standing on opposite sides. I don't know if we're about to hate fuck or scream at one another, but the tension—sexual and otherwise—is almost suffocating.
When he charges across the space between us, I don't expect it. He does it with so much force, that when he grabs my face in his hands and reunites his mouth with mine, I'm forced to take a step backwards to absorb him.
My entire body alights—I can feel his kiss right down to my toes as if I've been struck by lightning. I've missed him, I've missed us and there isn't a day that's gone by with us being separated where I've forgotten those facts.
His scent engulfs me and it's enough to make the pain in my chest intensify. His scent is achingly familiar—something I've been trying desperately to let go for the last three months.
When reality finally crashes down on me, my heart plummets. The pulse between us that was there a mere millisecond ago is gone in an instant when my heart recalls the way he rejected me.
It's only been a few long minutes and the sting is still there. The bruise is still forming. I haven't even had a chance to treat the wound.
Plus, I'm a lot of things but I'm not a cheater.
I take a step out of his grasp and do the one thing my body tells me to—I lift an arm and slap him right across his hauntingly beautiful face.
The sound is so loud that it echoes in the space around us, muffled out by the sounds of whomever is talking on the microphone in the other room. I stand in front of him, all my unspoken words in the silence as he cradles his cheek, but doesn't retaliate in any way.
I know he would never, but I guess I expected him to at least curse me out or to ask, "what the fuck?"
Either he realizes why or he's just giving me a free pass because he loved me once upon a time.
He stares at me with so many words hidden in his eyes, but none on his lips. I know the power of silence. I remember my dad saying nothing and I remember those silences much more vividly than I recall the things he'd say.
Silence still speaks.
"How could you?" I question and my voice quivers, making me inwardly cringe. He either fails to notice the crack in my voice or he chooses to ignore it, still staring at me. Although, I can't entirely decipher his facial expression in this darkness.
"Arielle—"
"Don't," I warn. "Don't try to feed me some bullshit. You—" I wipe away tears that have fallen, angry that they're even there to begin with. I probably look like a fucking child, one that's simultaneously angry and crying as they rid of the wetness with that furious looking rub of their hand. "How dare you treat me like that? Acting like what we had was nothing. Acting like I haven't been waiting fucking months for you. You get out and you don't even let me know? Worse yet, you start working for my stepfather? The man who has single-handedly ruined the majority of my life? You swore you'd never."
"It doesn't exactly look like you had a hard time waiting," he comments. He shuffles after he says it, but I still can't see his expression and so I have to gauge how he's feeling based of his tone and what he's saying to me.
I faux laugh, throwing my hands in the air. "That's what this is about? You're angry because I moved on?" I run my hands through my hair, feeling like I'm going insane. "I'm not sure if you developed amnesia inside or what, but you broke shit off with me. You told me to move on. You didn't give me any other choice when you completely cut me out of your life, so fuck you."
I'm sure that once upon a time, he would've quipped back with a, "don't threaten me with a good time, baby," but again, this isn't the same Zayn as how many months ago.
Our shared gaze is intense—full of heat, anger, and something else I can't pin—and I press my thighs together out of instinct. I can't help it, even as angry as I am at him, I want to jump his fucking bones.
Imagine how good the angry fuck would be right now, Christ.
Doesn't help that James has my fucking panties.
"You just don't get it, do you, Babygirl?" He shakes his head, irises dark.
I swallow with difficulty, ignoring how hearing that particular pet name roll off his accented tongue makes me feel. If someone yelled fire, I'd gladly go up in fucking flames right now.
Please, someone yell fire so I can at least explain why my skin is burning in his presence.
"What are you talking about?" I ball my fists at my sides, painfully so, as a distraction. Trying to create some sense of another feeling to prevent me from ripping the button on his pants open and taking him into my mouth.
Fucking hell, why am I like this? I'm supposed to be angry at him, not wanting to suck him off.
"You really expect me to understand your behaviour? Acting cold, distant, pretending like we were nothing to kissing me and calling me pet names? In a matter of a few minutes? What are—"
"Are you with him?"
"What?"
"The guy, the security one," he elaborates. "I'm bad with names, you know that."
QuickDraw, Dickwad—I know.
"James?"
Zayn nods his head. "Are you with him?" He reiterates, and I watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down.
"I moved on, Zayn." I tell him. "I did what you told me to. What you forced me to."
"Does he make you happy?"
"He doesn't make me fuckin' cry."
He opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted by noise on the far side of the room. Even though we're already several steps apart, he takes another one backwards as we both turn to see who it is.
"Principessa, I got the keys. Are you—" James is distracted as he enters the space, fidgeting with his keys. However, when he finally looks up and finds Zayn and I alone, he stops dead in his tracks, not even bothering to finish his question as he looks between the two of us.
"Is everything alright?" He questions, after taking a few seconds to regain his bearings. He saunters forward again, not paying Zayn any attention as he comes to my side.
"It's fine," I assure him.
"Yeah, I was just leaving," Zayn tells him.
I know that James isn't stupid, he can feel the tension. It's too thick in the air for him to not feel it.
That, and the fact that I've clearly been crying again—a wet, makeup smeared look surely on my face.
I don't think James knows how to take the situation. Nonetheless, he steps forward and extends a hand, "You're Zayn, right? We didn't have a chance to introduce earlier. I'm James."
I'm surprised when Zayn takes it and they share a handshake. "Yeah, I'm Zayn. I'm sure you've heard lots about me."
James has, but he doesn't comment on it. "I know we don't know each other, but it's good to see you out."
"It's uh—" Zayn pauses, running a hand along his nape. "It's something to get used to." I hear the familiar sound of a phone vibrating and I observe Zayn reach into his breast pocket and glance over the screen.
James turns to me quietly questioning, "You sure you're alright?" He wraps a hand around my waist, glancing down at me with concern etched into his features.
"I'm okay," I promise, even though it's far from the truth, "Thank you."
I close my eyes as he presses his lips to my temple, in a way that assures me he's only trying to make sure that I'm comfortable. He's not staking his claim in front of Zayn, he's just doing what he can to make me feel safe.
I'm drawn away from James' attention, squeezing his hand when he grabs mine and entwines our fingers. "I have to go," Zayn informs us.
Neither of us have a chance to say anything, because Zayn gives me one final glance and then quickly leaves the room as if he was never here to begin with.
But I can feel him. I can smell him.
The man who broke my heart.
A/N:
should I run? do y'all hate me after this? 😭
thoughts on the chapter?
what do you think about the zarielle interaction in this chapter? were feelings confused? misinterpreted?
were arielle's feelings — and the slap — justified?
what do you think zayn was feeling this chapter about everything? meeting james? seeing arielle?
why did zayn kiss her? especially when he's supposed to be staying away bc of ezra?
any other thoughts about anything that happened?
the next chapter will be a part II of this evening, where we'll get to see zayn's night. it'll help y'all better understand his feelings and his actions from this chapter
especially bc i know y'all might be confused, angry, annoyed with him right now. i think it's important to see where he's coming from ☺️
also, new zayn content soon?? mans is never seen outside unless it means something so 👀
what do you have planned @ zayn javadd malik 👁👄👁
don't forget! if you'd like to be a part of the twitter gc, let me know! message me here or on twitter ❣️
love y'all! 💙
OH WAIT! i forgot to tell y'all that i've been heavily thinking about that zayn as rio (from good girls) fic again 😭 i've been brainstorming themes and stuff soooo 👀