Tonight was date night. I was going on another date with Zayn and I was really excited. I didn't understand why he was wanting to see me again. I'm nothing special and he's in an internationally famous boyband. But there was no way in hell I was going to say no to him.
We had emailed all week, as he flew back to England not long after leaving my apartment. It sucked that we couldn't text back and forth, but I really couldn't afford a thousand dollar cell phone bill come the end of the month.
He was very flirtatious. He was constantly flirting with me over emails, sending suggestive phrases and winky faces in each and every email. I was excited to see him tonight and what our date had in store. I was prepared to grill him with questions, trying to learn more and break his mysterious façade.
I checked my clock . . . Zayn should be here any moment now. He was flying in tonight from England and he wouldn't tell me what this date had in store for us. He wanted this date to be a surprise, not speaking a word about it to me, though I had nagged him for the last three days about it.
I put in my hoop earrings, making sure that each curl in my short blonde hair was perfect, that my dark, sexy makeup was just right. I had dressed uber sexy, wanting to impress Zayn. I had on a very short, tight black lace dress, which hugged each curve on my body and showed just the perfect amount of cleavage. I had dressed in red pumps, the highest I'd ever worn. I was sure they'd hurt my feet incredibly, but I really didn't care. They made my ass look great and I knew it'd make Zayn give me that smirk which made my heart skip a beat.
Smoothing the fabric of my dress, I heard a knock on the door. "Cayc! Your date is here!" I heard Marissa yell from the couch in the living room.
"Could you get that for me? I'll be right there!" I yelled back.
I heard her sigh from the living room while I put my chapstick on. I listened quietly to the sound of her bare feet on our hardwood, walking towards the door and opening it, only to hear a gasp. I smirked, knowing it was Zayn.
"Hi, I'm here to pick up Caycia," he said simply.
"Oh my god . . . are you? Are you Zayn Malik? Like, member of One Direction?" Marissa was stuttering. I imagined her mouth was agape as she stared at him in awe.
"Yeah." I felt sorry for Zayn, knowing he had to deal with this all the time.
"Caycia's just finishing getting ready. Please . . . come in," I heard the door squeak open a little more, knowing she was stepping backwards to allow him to step in.
I checked myself out in the mirror once more, making sure everything looked perfect. I grabbed my clutch, putting the small strap over my shoulder, inhaling one large breath before opening the door and walking down the hallway. The only sound was the hallow clunking of my pumps on the hardwood. I walked around the corner to find Zayn and Marissa, staring at me. Marissa's eyes were wide in shock, Zayn's eyes wide and staring at my dress.
"Hi," I squeaked out, walking towards them.
"Hey love," Zayn said, eyes still scanning over my dress and the way it hugged my body. He leaned in, hugging my small frame and placing a feathery light kiss to my lips, "you look stunning."
"Thank you," I whispered, kissing his lips softly again. He pulled away from me, "Uh, Marissa . . . this is Zayn. Zayn, Marissa." I said, pointing to each of them.
"Oh, so is he the-" she pointed to her neck, referring to the hickey which had adorned my neck earlier in the week. It was unnoticeable now - I had put makeup on it - though without makeup it was still completely noticeable. He had marked me really well.
"Yeah, I'll tell you about it later," I said. "Shall we?" I asked Zayn looking up to smile at him.
"Bye Marissa, I'll text you when I'm coming home." I said as we closed the front door.
We walked outside, walking to Zayn's car. He drove a small black car which looked like one of those ones men use for street racing. The windows were tinted to a shade dark enough where I couldn't see anything on the inside of the car. The rims were sparkling, not a speck of dirt on them. It almost looked like it drove right out of a Fast and Furious movie. I was expecting Vin Diesel or Paul Walker to step out of the driver's side of the car.
We drove in relative silence. The only real sound being the radio, which played a series of R&B and light rap songs. The exhaust was quite loud on the back end of the car. I watched him as he drove. He had one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other resting on the gear stick between us. His seat was pushed quite far back and his face was relaxed, but still concentrated.
I looked at his clothing. He was wearing a light jean jacket, no buttons done up. Underneath it he had a tight white t-shirt, and his skinny legs were covered by dark black jeans. I couldn't see his eyes underneath his Ray Bans.
I couldn't stop staring and I wasn't sure if he could see me. He was perfect. The way he softly bit his bottom lip as he turned a corner. The way he flexed his long fingers on the steering wheel. The way the hair on top of his head was pushed upwards with gel and the hair on the sides of his head was shaved. Everything about the way he was dressed, the way he looked was perfect.
I couldn't help staring at his plump lips. I was brought back to reality when I saw the corners of his lips turn up into a smirk. I immediately looked out my window, feeling the heat flush my cheeks. He knew I was staring at him, how embarrassing.
I continued to look out the window and watched as my surroundings began to slow down. We were stopping. I felt Zayn's rough hand on my naked thigh, resting a little higher and more intimate than I'd wanted when we were in public.
I felt his hands move the hair off of my neck, "we're here love." He breathed without moving his hand. He kissed my neck. "Did I mention how beautiful you look?" He trailed kisses up my neck and then across my jawline. I tilted my head to give him a better angle.
"Mmm," I breathed.
He grabbed my cheek, turning me to face him, "are you ready?" I shook my head up and down, unable to form words after feeling his soft lips on my skin. He kissed my lips roughly before stepping out of the car, running around and opening my door.
I looked up. We were at 21 Oceanfront, one of the most expensive restaurants in LA.
"Zayn, no. This is too much," I said, touching his hand.
"You're going in, whether you like it or not," he pulled me towards the door. His hand possessively going around my waist, making sure every man we passed on the way into the restaurant knew I was his.
We walked in - men ogling at my body in this dress, the waitress checking out Zayn. The restaurant was filled with dark, intimate lighting, with expensive, elaborate chandeliers scattered everywhere. The tables were small, roughly holding four people. The tables were covered first with Victorian age looking red table cloths, with impeccably clean white sheets overtop. The windows around the restaurant were large, overlooking the ocean as the sun set. The sky was an absolutely breathtaking shade of blue.
The waitress lead Zayn and I to a much more intimate table in the corner of the restaurant, which was for those who either knew someone who ran the restaurant or someone who had a lot of money and called in really early to book a table.
I picked up a menu, looking over the prices.
Filet Oscar $48
Linguini Fra Diablo $39
Chilean Sea Bass Filet $41
Rib Eye Steak $47
Veal Osso Buco $45
Jesus Christ. This place was expensive. "Zay-" I opened my mouth to say something.
Zayn put up his hand, shushing me, "I don't want to hear it."
I sighed, frustrated with his stubbornness. I looked down at my menu, looking over the options again before being distracted when I heard a waiter approach us. By the time my eyes were pulled off the menu and looked up at the waiter he was leaning over, listening closely to Zayn. They were talking quietly. I couldn't hear them over the familiar clanking of forks and knives hitting plates, spoons hitting bowls and people chatting over dinner. I watched as Zayn spoke something else, the waiter shook his head, smiling and walked away.
I looked over the menu one last time, before the waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine. I wasn't legal, so I don't know how they allowed this. Zayn must have either known the waiter or the owner because there was no way they'd allow this elsewhere.
The waiter popped the cork off, pouring both of us a glass of red wine. "Are you two ready to order?" he asked, very proper.
Zayn looked at me. "Yes, we are," I said. The waiter pulled a pen and pad of paper out of his apron, waiting patiently. "Uh . . . I'll have the Asian pear salad." I said, as he wrote my order down and grabbed my menu.
"I'll have a rib eye steak, medium rare." Zayn said before handing the waiter his menu. The waiter walked away, finally leaving us alone to talk.
I sipped my wine. It was delicious, probably their most expensive bottle. "How was your flight?"
"Good." He said simply. He leaned towards me, drinking a large portion of his wine.
"Tell me about your family." I wasn't asking.
"Well, I have three sisters. There's Doniya, Waliyha, and Safaa. Doniya is my older sister, and Waliyha and Safaa are my younger sisters. My parents are Yaser and Patricia."
"You must miss them when you're away." I was surprised he was opening up to me.
"Yes, of course. It's especially hard when I hear their voices on the phone." He took another large gulp of his wine, grabbing the bottle to refill his now empty glass.
"Tell me about your band mates." I was taking advantage of his good mood today.
He placed the wine bottle down, taking a sip out of the glass in front of him. "They're incredible." He began. "Like, I don't even know what my life would be like without my mates." I smiled.
I took a sip of my wine, "I'd love to meet them some day."
"You will, I promise."
I loved this side of him. His softer side really was a surprise. I was being surprised by him a lot lately. He definitely had the exterior of being a rough, bad boy, but I knew that inside he was tender, he was gentle and soft. He was an extremely smart man, I'd decided. He knew a lot about life, even though at the young age he was, he didn't know half the amount of things a man in his 80s would know.
When our plates arrived, we ate slowly, chatting lightly about our night from last week. He showed me a few more of his tattoos, explaining the meanings of them. We talked about the beauty of the sunset.
When the waiter came with our bill, I checked my phone, surprised by the hour. It was nearly midnight. We'd been out for three hours now. Zayn paid, although I offered to pay half, there was no way he was going to let me. He wouldn't even let me pay the tip, getting pissed with me for even trying.
As we walked to his car it was quiet out, the only sounds being that of his army boots on the concrete, my pumps clicking away and the sound of the odd car driving by. His hand was wrapped protectively around my waist, like it was when we entered the restaurant. "I had a lovely evening," I said, breaking the silence of the night.
"Oh, it's not over yet love," he smirked.
My heart raced, wondering what he had in store for me. "What's next?" I asked, nuzzling into his side.
"Oh, you'll see love. I'm taking you somewhere you can let loose." He smirked that devil smirk which turned me on, "but don't think I'm telling you where."
"Damn," I said.
I couldn't hide my excitement as we drove. I was wondering where he was taking me. Were we going to have a quickie? Were we going to a bar? A club? Maybe we were going to a party. Maybe we were going to meet his friends. Oh, that would be incredible. I'd absolutely love to meet his friends. Maybe we were meeting his friends at a club or a bar, or a party! My mind raced with thoughts of the possibilities of where we could be going. I mentally listed off hundreds of possibilities until we pulled up to the back of a club.
By the time Zayn ran around the car and opened my door, I was panicking. "Zayn, I can't go in there. I'm not legal. I could get arrested." I was breathing hard. I couldn't be arrested. I had already somehow gotten away with illegally drinking wine in a restaurant earlier.
"It's okay. I know the owner. You'll be fine." He said, pulling me by the wrist to the back door. Somehow I felt more relaxed. His voice put my frayed nerves back in their place. I didn't feel scared with him. I knew people were intimidated by him. I knew they wouldn't mess with me because I was his, and he was making that extremely clear.
There was an extremely large security guard at the back door. Standing intimidatingly tall with his arms crossed, and I felt a pang of terror run through me. When we walked up to the door, he stepped aside. "Hey man," he said before opening the door for Zayn and I to walk in.
The music was radiating throughout the building. People dancing off the ecstasy of the music. I could feel the walls and the floor vibrating from the loud music. Drunk people were tripping over themselves everywhere. I even heard someone puking as we walked past the bathrooms.
We walked towards the bar, Zayn ordering a whiskey on the rocks and getting me a simple Caesar. We sat down at a table, finishing our drinks before he dragged me out to the dance floor. The music was loud, I couldn't hear anything but the walls vibrating. We were grinding, letting loose in the moment. I was sweating, Zayn's hands running up and down my sides, breathing heavily. I was grinding my backside into his crotch, feeling a growing bulge in his jeans. He was breathing heavily on my neck, hands reaching for my breasts. I was so much in my own world that when he clearly squeezed my breasts right in the middle of the dance floor I didn't even care. In fact, I wanted him to touch me. If we weren't in the middle of the club I'd probably have him fuck me right then and there.
"Fuck you're sexy," he breathed on my neck, making my skin tingle. We continued grinding, me trying my best to be sexy, although it was really hard to not fall over in my pumps.
When the song ended, I was sad when he dragged me off the dance floor. "I'm going to get us some new drinks," he said loudly, trying to talk over the new song which was playing loudly, "stay here." He said sternly. I nodded my head. He turned around, leaving me feeling vulnerable, standing alone.
I leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for him to return. I opened my phone, texting Marissa letting her know where I was. As I put my phone away I could feel a presence beside me, "Zay-" I turned to face him, but it wasn't Zayn.
"My, my . . . you sure are a piece of work," he said.
"I'm sorry who are you?" I began to panic, looking for Zayn.
He walked towards me, placing his hand on my hip, "Mmm, you smell good . . . like vanilla." I pushed him away.
"Can I help you?" He was drunk, clearly. I could smell the alcohol radiating off his breath. I tried walking away from him, looking for Zayn.
He grabbed my wrist, "where are you going?" He grabbed my wrist harder, pulling me towards him.
"Ow, leave me alone." I continued to push him off.
"Stop being such a tease . . . c'mere." He placed his hand on my hip again, pushing my hair back and beginning to kiss my neck.
"No, stop! Get off me!" I yelled.
"Oh c'mon, you like it." I screamed when I felt his hands cup my ass, moving up my dress to feel the naked flesh. And then he was on the floor, with Zayn on top of him, punching him relentlessly in the face. There was blood all over the floor, Zayn still pounding his fist into the man's face.
"Zayn! Zayn! Stop, you'll hurt him!" I moved forward, grabbing Zayn's arm before he could pound the guy once more. I pulled Zayn off of my abuser, turning him around to face me. I grabbed his face in my hands, startled by the darkness of his eyes.
"Jesus," I breathed, gingerly touching his face.
His fists were still balled, his eyes a shade of black I'd never seen. I grabbed his hand, scared by the amount of blood on his knuckles.
"Zayn . . ." I said, touching his knuckles.
"C'mon, we're leaving." He growled, grabbing me by my sore wrist.
"Ow," I said once his hand touched my sore wrist.
Instead he ignored me, pulling me harder out the back door back towards his car. The entire car ride home was spent in silence. I wasn't comfortable with the violence I'd seen Zayn display. I was still scared by the darkness in his eyes. I wasn't comfortable with the way the violence had made me feel. I was over my abuser. It didn't bother me anymore. I just felt uncomfortable knowing Zayn could flip that fast. Knowing that a switch flipped inside of him and he nearly ended that drunk man's life over a decision he'd made when he was under the influence. I knew that the drunk man hadn't intended for himself to go that far, but he was drunk and alcohol was making his decisions for him. I didn't like fights, I never had. I didn't like seeing people get hurt over anything really. I just have always felt that it never improves a situation.
He parked the car at my apartment, leaning over and gently touching my hand, "I . . . I'm sorry," he said, sincerity in his voice.
"I don't like violence Zayn, and I won't put up with it." I said to him.
"I know. I overreacted."
"It's okay, I know these things happen, I just don't want to see it happen again." I said, touching his hand softly.
"I'm really sorry," his head was hanging low, he was no longer looking me in the eyes. I leaned in closer to him, grabbing his chin and pulling it up to look me in the eyes. I leaned in painfully slowly, kissing his lips softer than I'd ever kissed anyone. He grabbed the back of my neck, making the kiss deeper.
"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He smirked and I felt his hand on the inside of my thigh again.
"It's all for you . . ." I trailed off, leaning in slowly to kiss him once again.
"Mmm, I know, because you're mine." And then he kissed me roughly, leaving me breathless.