I get overwhelmed so easily
My anxiety creeps inside of me
Makes it hard to breathe
What's come over me
Feels like I'm somebody else
I missed Zayn. I had been missing him all week because he was traveling. He always traveled, therefore I had told him to come to my place tonight because I knew we were both free. Plus, I needed to talk.
Talking to him was one of the best things I could do when I felt conflicted. He was good at both listening and giving advice, and I appreciated him always trying to help me through my problems. Still, I somehow knew we would either end up or start it having sex. That was a fact.
I was sitting on my couch. Well, actually, I was sprawled on my couch, because I was upside down with my head hanging close to the floor and my legs bent over the backrest. I wasn't looking at anything specifically, just lost in my thoughts and doing all the usual overthinking I did when something didn't feel right. Nothing felt right at the moment. The FBI was one step away from discovering my identity and my anxiety was all over the place.
Harry Styles was following me, and I was already failing to achieve my main goal. Everything was so fucking frustrating and it was in times like this I wished killing wasn't illegal.
How the hell did he found out about the warehouse? The D.M.G. assured to me that place had been abandoned and untouched for more than a decade now. I was surprised it was still standing. In fact, it was really well cleaned and in perfect state. I thought maybe the D.M.G. was confused about it being abandoned, but the place was deserted 24/7.
The FBI knowing of its existence forced me to change my whole plan and location choice. Now, I needed to contact the D.M.G. - which was no easy thing - to tell them I needed a new place.
Besides, the agents had followed me after the whole episode with Desmond happened. My Toyota didn't have a plate because I had pulled it off in case this happened, which meant it would take the FBI longer to track me. But I wasn't naive, I knew there were other ways of searching for a car, and they would eventually come up with my whereabouts. I was complete and utterly fucked.
My mind still couldn't process over the fact my flawless thought-through plan had been figured out. It wasn't that hard, because the pattern was easy, but no one was ever supposed to know my gender, my name, my appearance or the places I had chosen. They had discovered absolutely everything except for my name, and now I was practically doomed. My brain ached with the mere thought of going to jail.
I had never in my nine years of second life been any close to the police like I was now. I was so fucking clueless about why the CIA was so interested in my case, enough to contact the FBI instead of the cops. I was kind of like a regular killer, wasn't I?
I also knew how prisons worked. It was all about your ranking. The hierarchical triangle in prison worked according to your strength, fighting skills and reason why you were sentenced. If you had been sent to jail for robbing a candy shop or something akin, then you were way down in the triangle and absolutely nobody respected or cared about you. Now, if you were someone like me, who had a body count of more than a hundred corpses, you were highly respected and idolized. My body count was on 233, I would've ruled prison.
A quiet knock on my door snapped me out of my trance, and I knew right away it was Zayn. Seeing him was always the light to my day because he carried around that beautiful smile of his. He was, as I said, a good listener and advisor, and I was sure he would've been the best psychologist if he hadn't chosen to be a drug dealer.
I was too lazy to move from my place, so I chose to speak instead. "It's open."
My eyes were shut when I heard the silent sound of the door. Every muscle in my body felt too heavy to do anything, but I managed to open my eyes. When I did, Zayn was already taking his place on the couch next to me, except he was sitting normally.
Today, he was wearing a plaid long-sleeved shirt with black ripped jeans and boots. The silver necklace I had grown fond of hung low against his chest and some of his many tattoos peaked under the sleeves of the shirt. Zayn's dark hair shined under the dim lightning of the room and I caught myself staring for a bit too long, as usual. He was hot and there was no way to hide that.
"How are you doing, babe?" He brushed his knuckles against my cheekbone and I nuzzled into his hand, enjoying the soft touch of his fingers grazing against my skin.
"I'm tired, but not enough to sleep." I feathered my eyes close once more when Zayn removed his hand, and I was left with the light tingling on the area he had touched. "I want to sleep, Zayn."
"I can help you with that." He whispered. I could hear the smirk on his face, and I chuckled quietly before opening my eyes.
"You're so horny sometimes." I shook my head, still smiling widely.
"I'm horny around you, yeah." Zayn shrugged.
As if we had read each others minds, we both leaned closer till ours lips connected, and it felt like I could finally breath. Ironically, I was panting desperately for air when the kiss started to get more heated, his tongue filling my mouth quicker than I expected.
Zayn grabbed my hips and helped me sit properly, straddling his lap. I was a hardcore shift, and Zayn knew that, just like I knew he was a complete dom from the cradle. Today, my sub side was taking over because I knew Zayn was in the mood for being in control.
I didn't fight when he snaked his hands around my waist and tugged on the hem of my shirt, never breaking the kiss. I caught the innuendo and separated our mouths just to slide off my tank top so I was left in my black lace bra. Zayn didn't waste any time in moving the kiss to my neck. The moment he was getting nearer to the swell of my breasts, my phone started ringing.
"Fuck. Sorry, babe, it'll be quick." I huffed, reaching out for my phone. It was Alissa.
The other night, we didn't sleep together. It was the most weird thing that had ever happened to me, but we just talked. I learnt a bunch of stuff about her and vice versa, and she was so cool and fun. I was stuck on the idea that we could actually be friends, and maybe occasional fuck buddies. I had no clue if she was into emotionless sex, though it was worth the try.
I pressed on the green button as Zayn left a trail of wet kisses from my collarbone to my jaw, where he started sucking merciless. He often left hickeys wherever he could because he was very possessive, even though it made no sense to me because I already slept with a bunch of other people. He was okay with that, as I mentioned before, but he couldn't control his temper when he was around and someone checked me out or stared for too long.
"Alissa?" I sighed, kinda annoyed by the interruption. When I was about to get laid, I hated anyone who interrupted me, even if I knew it wasn't their fault.
"Hey, Nat, there's someone here looking for you. He says he's an old friend." Alissa answered, the questioning tone on her voice making me furrow my brows. I had no old friends, just friends.
"There? At Neamhaí? I haven't gone to that bar in like four years." I asked, remembering what she told me about working as a stripper there. I almost moaned out loud when Zayn sucked on my sweet spot under my ear, which would've been really embarrassing. Luckily, I was able to control myself.
"Yeah, I don't know, he's asking me to tell you to come." She answered back. For a split second, my mind dropped to the thought of the FBI finally finding out everything about me, meaning Harry Styles would be the one waiting there to arrest me. No, that wasn't possible.
"What does he want?"
The fact that this mysterious person was aware of my connection with Alissa when we knew each other for one day was unfettering every possible option I had in mind, and all of them ended up with me dead.
Yes, it was a quality of mine overthinking everything, but that was just something you had to do when joining this business because you never knew who was tricking you into an ambush. I had my enemies, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone was pointing a gun at Alissa's head for her to call me.
"I don't know." I could almost hear the shrug when she talked. She sounded really unwinded and her voice wasn't shaky or scared, so I just knew there was no gun pointed at her head. At this point, Zayn had pulled away from me and was looking into my eyes with confusion. I was confused too.
"And who is he? Did he say a name?" I talked fast, the suspense triggering my anxiety quicker than I anticipated.
Fucking anxiety. The hesitant side of me had been really active ever since I ran into agent Styles at the apartment. The feeling in my gut had been telling me nothing was right and something bad was coming, and my heart couldn't help but pick pace at this thoughts.
"Yeah..." I heard her voice over the loud music of the bar, which was busting and echoing into my ears. My head ached already, and the vibrations of the bass on the other side of the line weren't helping at all. "Louis Tomlinson."
Oh.
That motherfucker.
Oops, short chapter!
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