I couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of me right now. It was Zayn Malik from One Direction. Zayn Malik the dark, quiet, artistic, mysterious, extremely sexy one. That was about all I knew, but it was enough to know who was standing in front of me in the tattoo shop.
I was surprised they hadn't closed the entire shop down for him, but then again it was around eleven on a Monday night, and I was the only one in the shop. Maybe they had closed the shop after he entered?
His black hair, gorgeous eyes, his pierced ears, his bare skin adorning tattoos . . . he was incredible. He was wearing a blue knitted sweater, and some beige slacks and his hair was spiked up to perfection.
"I'm Zayn," his accent interrupted my thoughts, and immediately my stomach turned, thinking of Louis' sweet voice. However Zayn's was much different, much deeper. Much rougher.
"Oh, hi. I'm Caycia. I know who you are," I giggled nervously.
"Yeah I'm used to that. Nice ink," he nodded towards Jim who was still adding in the finishing touches of color. Zayn showed little interest, but I felt like that was just the way he came off.
"Thanks, I like yours," I pointed to the yin yang symbol I could see on his wrist.
"Yeah. I'm going for a smoke." With that he left. I watched him walk away, pulling the box of cigarettes out of his pocket, grabbing a lighter and walking out the door.
I heard Jim say, "okay, we're done." I sat up, and walked over the mirror. I pulled my shirt back up to get a better view. The white of the daisy glowed on my skin.
I felt tears stinging my eyes as the memories flooded back, "wow it's perfect. Thank you so much." I was definitely recommending this guy to my friends.
"It turned out great," he said as he pulled his gloves off.
As I was paying, I heard the familiar ding of the door and the fresh smell of cigarettes overwhelmed my nose. I turned around to see Zayn again. "Leaving already?" he said and I could smell the cigarettes on his breath, and frankly it was hot. He was extremely sexy and there was no denying it.
"Yeah, I'm done now," I respond.
"Let's see," and as he said it, he moved closer to me, lifting the front of my shirt without asking, exposing my new navel piercing with a pink gem. His hot hands palming at the band on my sweats and pulling them partially down to expose much more of my skin than I'd wanted. "Wow, it turned out great." He said as he ran his lanky fingers over the tattoo, eliciting a whimper from my lips. The skin was still tender but he didn't seem to care. I could feel his fingers brush against the top of an old scar and I prayed that he couldn't see them. When I look down to the tattoo I notice that he can only spot one of the scars, and hopefully he wasn't paying that close of attention.
"It's hot," he said as he looked back down, pulling the waistband of my sweats forward to jokingly look down my pants, although I know he could see my racy underwear. I wasn't sure if he was flirting with me, or if he was always like this. Whichever it was, I really didn't care. He was hot and I'd go home with him in a heartbeat.
Interrupting our intimate moment, Jim cleared his throat, "well that'll be all Caycia. You're up Zayn."
"Okay. Well I'll see you soon Jim. Bye Zayn. It was nice meeting you," I said as I weaved around him, but Zayn caught my hand at the last moment.
"Stay here." He said, totally being forward.
"Wh-what?" I said.
"C'mon it's the worst thing to sit and get tattoos done without company. Stay with me, I'll be here for a while love," he said to me.
I mauled it over in my brain for about mili-seconds before my mouth answered for me, "okay." I smiled. I didn't have to work tomorrow, and I mean, c'mon it's Zayn Malik we're talking about here.
I quietly watched as Jim sketched up what Zayn wanted as a tattoo. And then we moved over to the table where Jim began to actually tattoo Zayn. His face didn't contort in pain, he never even flinched when Jim began. I couldn't even describe how hot it was watching him get this tattoo.
"So tell me about yourself," Zayn said gritting his teeth when Jim hit a sensitive spot.
"Well, I'm nineteen, I moved here to pursue acting about a year ago now." I said. He never even looked at me as I spoke, only staring at his newly forming tattoo. "Tell me something about you Zayn."
"What's there to say? I'm sure you know everything," he said in a tone which sounded quite rude, though by this point I knew it was just the way he was. He was used to girls stalking him in the tabloids, who knew every little detail of his life.
"No, I don't. I just know that you're Zayn Malik and that you're British, clearly . . . and that you're in One Direction." I stated simply with a shrug of my shoulders.
He looked at me with a surprised expression, "So you're not a fan?" He asked with a slight laugh.
"A directioner? A hardcore fan?" he was still laughing.
"Uh . . . no," I say while shaking my head. "I only know the names of the people in your band."
"Wow, I'm surprised. But it's definitely nice to meet someone that doesn't secretly have photos of my face plastered on their walls and saved one thousand times to their phone."
"Yeah I imagine that's gotta be something hard to deal with." I said.
"You have no idea."
We sat there for the rest of the three hours it took to tattoo his arm. He winced a few times, but it definitely wasn't very obvious. He never told me much about himself, keeping that dark, mysterious persona going. We talked mostly about tattoos, me showing him my other one on my wrist and revealing all of the piercings I had.
Though it wasn't hard to talk to him, it was hard to get him to open up about anything. He was a mystery and I wanted to figure him out. I was so attracted to every bit of him.
I couldn't help eyeing his body up and down though he was fully clothed. I was thinking about what his body would look like naked, and I realized that this was the first time I'd felt aroused around a man since Louis. It felt relieving, knowing that he hadn't completely paralyzed me.
I hated the feeling of knowing I had no chance with him. I knew that if he even found me attractive I'd be a fuck and chuck. He would have sex with me and leave the next morning for me to never hear from him again. Though at this point in my life, I really didn't care. He was just so hot and I'd do anything to run my hands up and down his body.
After Zayn paid, we walked out of the shop and into the darkness of the early hours of the morning. As we walked, he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up. I loved the smell of him, cigarettes and all. I couldn't stop staring at him while he blew the smoke from his lips.
Then he talked, making my cheeks blush because I was staring at him, "Can I sleep on your couch tonight?"
I was surprised by his forwardness, though I don't think he felt like he was being forward. He's a celebrity, how does he just ask people that? I don't even think the question he asked was up for debate. I think no matter what I'd say he would be staying on my couch anyways. "Sure," I said and he looked at me, smirking in the dark and blowing more smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
So Zayn Malik was sleeping at my apartment tonight. Dear god, I hope Marissa wasn't home because when I got this boy home, all bets are off. There was no telling what we'd do when we got to the apartment although I was leaving the forwardness to Zayn. If he made a move, I would go along with it. No regrets.