4 months later, before Christmas 2012
I was finally here. I was in England. I was finally with Zayn whom I hadn't seen in months. I was in his mansion. I was lying naked next to him in his massive bed. In fact, once he'd opened the front door for me I practically ripped his clothes off right there.
It was November when he had surprised me with a call, asking me to come to his hometown and spend Christmas with him. I had kindly objected at first, admitting to him that I really didn't have the money to spend on a plane ticket out here, but of course his stubbornness showed up to force my ass on the band's private jet free of charge and all by my lonesome.
Of course when we landed, someone grabbed my luggage and bodyguards led me to a large black SUV with blacked out windows and a man dressed as a chauffeur in the driver's seat. I watched out the windows in silence as we drove to what I figured would be Zayn's house. When I walked up to the front door, my suspicions were correct when Zayn answered the door and I ravaged his body right then and there.
Never had I missed someone as much as I had when Zayn went back to London. I mean, we had only been together for a short amount of time, but we just clicked. We were great together, and I knew in my heart that I loved him, and I planned to tell him in the next five days that I would be staying here.
Back to the present, where we lay together naked after having great holy-fucking-shit-I've-missed-you-and-have-been-so-horny sex. Zayn was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and I was hugged into his side, my fingers tracing the tattoos which adorned his body.
"I've missed you," I said to him, still tracing the microphone tattoo on the inside of his right arm.
"I've missed you too love," he said, never looking away from the ceiling.
"No Zayn, like I've really missed you," I said as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to my chest to cover my naked breasts. "I mean, we talk all the time, but it's just not the same as when we're together and can talk . . . like now."
"I know it's hard," he said simply, turning to look at me.
"It's harder than you can imagine. I think it's harder for me than it is for you," I said to him.
"Why do you say that babe?"
"Because Zayn . . . I'm - I'm in love with you," I bit my lip, afraid of what he might say next.
"It's just as hard for me babe. It's torturous being away from the person you love." He said, making small soothing circles on my arm with his calloused thumb.
"Y-You love me?" I stuttered out, nervous as hell.
"Yes, and you know what?"
"What?" I asked, anxiously.
"Move in with me."
"Move in with me Caycia." He repeated himself.
"Yes! Yes I'll do it!" I practically screamed, throwing my arms around his neck to throw him backwards with my body tumbling on top of his.