World So Cold

Love is never simple. Love is never easy. There is more grey than there is black and white. Zayn Malik Fan Fiction


9. Te quiero mujer



We get home that night, actually it is 2 in the morning on Saturday, and Paco is asleep on the couch. I noticed something weird about him, he has a room upstairs, a cozy bed, and space; yet he feels more comfortable confined to the cramped space of the sofa. It is the third time I catch him asleep on our sofa. “Wake him up honey, we’re going to bed” my parents tell me dragging themselves up the stairs. My parents were tired, but the past twenty four hours I have lived off coffee and candy, sleep was the last thing on my mind. I am so awake, I am tempted to go call Olive, but she’d snap if I woke her up.

“Paco” I shake him awake, it takes two shakes before his eyes blink open. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask because I don’t want to be alone. He looks at me like I have ten heads.

Mujer its two in the morning” he groans, hitting me with a pillow.

“My mom wanted me to wake you, go sleep in your room”, I kick off my UGG boots and sink in the love seat. He runs his hand over his cropped hair and yawns. “Your room…your bed…go”

Mujer no sea tonta”, he rolls his eyes. “You know its difficult for me…that bed is massive”

“Its not that big” I reply pulling my hair into a bun. “And you cant speak so much Spanish round here, we are American. Remember”

“And I’m Mexican….remember” he yawns again. “You want to watch a movie, put on a movie” he grunts and lays back resting his head on a comforter pillow. “Nothing too overly sappy please”

I browse the DVD collection my dad bought when he moved in. Its extensive and has some goodies from the fifties and sixties. I choose ‘Rebel Without A Cause’, a movie from the 1950’s with James Dean. It is one of my favorites, and Paco spends the first twenty minutes dozing in and out of sleep. Whatever. I throw a pillow at him and turn off the DVD player. I would be more entertained in my room looking at the walls rather than trying to watch a movie and hearing Paco snore. “I’m going upstairs” I declare.

I decide to shower, and the warm water is soothing on my skin.

I think about everything that has happened in the past 24 hours, starting with my mothers book signing in Times Square, to her appearance on The Today Show, and finally coffee with Zayn. I feel free from him, and now that it is a solid freedom, I don’t know if it is a leisure, luxury, or a mistake. I close my eyes, and I don’t see Honcho and his gun. I see Zayn, and the look on his face as we spoke over coffee and cinnamon rolls. He expected me to say something along the lines of ‘I love you’ or ‘I forgive you, want to give it another go?’…but I didn’t. instead, I told him what I hope will happen. I hope to find someone else, and I hope he does the same. I hope we both end up happy in our lives because I am certain happiness together is unrealistic. Given our circumstances, I mean come on. Maybe my happiness is asleep, downstairs on the couch….no, don’t think that. You failed chemistry, remember. I really didn’t fail chemistry, I got a A in that class sophomore year, but the kind of chemistry Paco had spoken of…I bombed at it.

Could it be possible that maybe Paco is right, I mean, its not like there haven’t been moments where we almost kissed. And the signs, one cant forget those. The way he looks at me, and how he sweet talks me in Spanish sometimes, the way his hugs feel warm and tight and assuring all at once. The way living with him has only made me question this “chemistry’ even more. I wonder if he has ever thought about me before bed, the way I am now.

My bedroom door opens, and he walks in. Of course, just my luck. Why oh why…this is cruel. What is he doing here. “I couldn’t sleep after you left, thanks for waking me up” he speaks softly, aware that just down the hall are my parents. I sit up Indian style and he sits across from me. In that moment, I study his face. His eyes are expressive, brown, chocolate fountains. His nose has a small bump on it, probably broke it in a fight knowing Paco. Under his eye is a small scar, it is almost unnoticeable, and his skin is a shade of beige. Starting at where his sideburns end, is a field of small prickly hairs…he hasn’t shaved. The facial hair makes him look older, and he wears it well. His upper lip has a deep dip, but his lips are full and parted slightly. His chin is square, and there is a small dimple in it that only appears when he smiles.

Paco Fuentes is a dangerous kind of beautiful.

“Are we having a staring contest mujer?” his voice is warm, and its smooth. “Because I suck at those My ,my, my….dangerous beautiful… Paco snaps his fingers in front of my face, causing me to blink. Fuck I just dazed….and the reason I dazed is worse. I shake my head and look away. “Sorry Paco”

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks moving across the bed and laying on his side, next to me. He props his head up with his hand and looks at me. “How was NYC?” I don’t say anything at first, I lay on my side and face him, mimicking his movements and propping my head with my hand. He smirks, that crooked, dimple chinned smirk. How is it that after I study him closely, I am not turned away like I should be…im drawn in closer. Like a moth to a flame. We lay there silent for a few moments. I know now, for certain he is right about the Quimica perfe-….I am not even going to attempt that Spanish Lingo. Perfect chemistry, this was it. We could just look at one another, and not say a word, but understand.

This is real, this is real and I cant let myself think about it too much. If I over think things, I wont have the courage to try it out for myself. I look at the space between us, it has to be inches, half a foot at most, and my eyes wander him. His long lets, narrow hips, the way his tee shirt fits over his hard body. He doesn’t wear the sling on his shoulder but his arm is tense and folded comfortably, as his palm cushions his head. It must hurt, but he doesn’t show it. And then those eyes, shaming my fear, shaming my curiosity. This is it, if there will be any moment at all, this is it. Slowly, I lean forward, and he reciprocates my movement with his own. Ever feel that static shock when you touch someone? The kind that sends you reeling back in shock. That’s what I felt when our lips touched for the first time. Only, there was no way I’d go reeling back, because it already felt so good. I don’t pull away, but he does….killing my heaven.

Mujer que haces, what are you doing?”

This rejection will not define me, I wont let it. Without a word, I lay on my back and look at my ceiling, the way I had been before he showed up. I can feel his eyes searing through me. It doesn’t make me feel embarrassed, inferior or stupid. Instead, I feel like im walking through fire, there is heat. “Mirame, look at me” he nudges me with his other hand and lays on his stomach, his face parallel to mine. So, I grant his wish and look at him. “Is this what you want…to kiss me?”

I nod, positive I want to be kissed. I want to be held. I want to be loved; body mind and soul. Why cant he just do it for me, prove himself right about the damn chemistry while fulfilling my own fantasy. “Is that so wrong” I ask seeing the intensity in his gaze. And I know it isn’t wrong because his lips meet mine again. It is passionate, and he strokes my face gently with his strong hands.

When he parts and our eyes lock, I am certain he has just proven himself correct. Perfect chemistry does exist and it exists between us two. Here and now. “Don’t stop” I tell him and wrap my arms around his neck, we are body to body now. His hardness against my softness, grinding against me as the kiss deepens.

I like control. Paco likes control. We don’t have it, because in this moment we are lost in a sea of unwavering passion, unchanging inhibitions. I am panting when he kisses along my jaw and down my neck, he finds my pulse on my neck and kisses it softly. “You’re pulse is fast” he notes and licks my neck, my pulse. His hot, wet tongue driving me crazy. There is nothing I want more than to continue this, and to be in his arms, fully clothed or not.

“Because I want you” I say beneath stifling moans. He sucks the spot under my ear, making my skin break into goose bumps.

Te quiero mujer” he whispers into my ear. I don’t know much Spanish, but I know what he says, is enough to satisfy me. We sleep that night in each others arms, our limbs intertwined, and my face resting on his chest.

Te quiero Mujer…I could get used to the sound of that.

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