-- Caycia’s POV --
“Here, let me help you,” I said to Zayn, reaching for his crutches and setting them off a few inches from him. He adjusted himself on the couch. Clearly this whole cast on his entire lower leg thing was a big pain in the ass.
He grunted, trying to lift his heavy leg up on the coffee table. “I got it,” I lifted his leg up, placing a pillow underneath so he could sit comfortably.
“Thanks,” he murmured. He turned the TV on, and sat there watching it contently.
I walked towards the kitchen. I grabbed two beers, pulling off the tops and putting a lime wedge on the lip of my bottle. I grabbed the plate of sandwiches I had made earlier and struggled to hold all three in my hands as I walked back into the living room where Zayn was situated.
Zayn chuckles lightly as I walk by him, “having trouble there? Here,” he reached and grabbed the beer with the lime wedge positioned on the bottle out of my hands. I stepped around the coffee table, placing the plate and the other beer on it and sitting down on the couch directly beside Zayn. He makes this sound of disgust as he takes a look at the bottle, “I don’t know why you like this lime with your beer. There are only two people I know that drink it like that,” he chuckled.
For a second my heart stopped because I knew exactly who he was talking about. Louis. I hadn’t talked to nor seen Louis since that eventful day at his house, where we shared that ever so passionate kiss. Where I crossed a boundary. A boundary that I’ve been regretting ever since. I didn’t know how Louis was feeling since that day, and there was a part of me that wished I’d known how he felt, how he was feeling.
He was still chuckling lightly, I’d missed a part of what he was saying. “Don’t you think so?” He asked me.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I was flustered.
He began picking at the label on his beer, a small habit he had, especially when he hadn’t had a cigarette in a while. “Oh, nothing. I was just saying don’t you reckon a tall glass of Landlord from the tap would be bloody fantastic right now?”
“Yeah, it would be.” I smiled at him, “would you like a sandwich?”
“Sure.” He replied. I grabbed a sandwich off the plate and handed it to him. He quickly took large bites, eating it all within a matter of maybe 20 seconds, “It’s so good. No longer eating hospital food, that was shit.”
“I’m sure it was, I’m glad you’re out,” I lightly touched his arm.
Though I was happy he was out, and that we were back together and things were okay and good and no longer confusing and mixed up at this moment, I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. Something felt missing between us… Between Zayn and I, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Our conversations were running dry, things seemed oddly uncomfortable and I’d never felt that way around him before. Maybe it was just being away for so long. Maybe we just needed to get back into a routine of learning each other’s habits again.
Or maybe the accident changed him. Changed things about him that made us no longer mesh together the way we once did. He was no longer rough and protective over me like he once was. He wasn’t exactly the Zayn I fell in love with, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t love him now, because I do. There was just something different about him now. Something I wasn’t sure of.
Or maybe we were just missing the lust, the romance in our relationship. We hadn’t slept together since before the accident, which was over two months ago now. My eyes darted over to Zayn, who was staring at the TV. His brow was furrowed in concentration. I heard the audience laugh over the speakers and Zayn followed suit. His eyes crinkled, and his mouth opened, teeth showing. He was, in his moment, purely and utterly full of happiness. I just didn’t know if that happiness involved me anymore. My eyes darted to his lips, and I watched as his tongue slowly wet his lips. It was then that he noticed me staring, “what?” He asked me.
I never spoke a word, instead I shuffled awkwardly towards him, “nothing, I was just thinking…” I whispered into his ear.
“About what?” His eyes shifted from my lips to my eyes.
I moved closer to him, placing my hand on the collar of his shirt, pulling it down and tracing the outline of the lips forever inked into the flesh on his chest. I bit my lip as I moved my legs over his own, straddling him ever so lightly. “I dunno,” I joked with him, raising an eyebrow. “Something…”
He smirked, his hands moving to my waist, “oh really?”
“Mhm,” I murmured before leaning forward and placing my lips upon his. He surprised me when his lips were soft and slow against mine, so sensual. I was used to him being rough and dominant with me, but here he was being soft and gentle. This was something different.
I placed my hands on either side of his face, before placing my lips on his once again. I began rocking back and forth on his lap, his hands still firmly placed upon my waist. When I tried pushing my tongue past his lips, he suddenly placed his hands upon my chest. He lightly pushed me, and pulled his lips away from mine. “I uh - I think we should stop…”
I pulled away, crossing my arms feeling suddenly self-conscious, “wh- what?” I stuttered out.
I watched his long eyelashes as he blinked slowly before talking, “I just think we shouldn’t do this.” I scoffed, angry with his behavior. “I mean, not right now.” He quickly corrected himself.
I quickly got off of his lap, standing up beside him, “okay whatever. Tell me when you’re interested in me again.” I spit at him. I quickly stomped off towards the bedroom.