Maybe

(Niall and Zayn)
When bestfriends Simran & Mollie meet two boys on the tube, will something more become of it? Or will heartbreak be the only thing left?

Maybe.

Will their past change the future? Will their future affect the present?

Maybe.

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15. Sweet.....Tea?

***Simmie's POV***

 

As I took the tea bag out of Zayn's mug, he came stumbling into the kitchenette, with a confused look on his face. “What's up?” I ask, passing him his steaming mug of tea. He takes a sip and groans, throwing his head back, the confusion forgotten in the moment. He obviously likes that and the urge to kiss his neck returns. “If you don't mind my asking, who's are these?” he asks gesturing to his current attire. Jumping up to sit on the counter, and him leaning back on the counter behind him, he assesses me from my conversed feet to my damp curly hair. “They're mine,” I say, talking into my mug before taking a sip and continuing, “I find them comfy because they're too big.” I say shrugging my shoulders and looking down at my feet. I hear movement and see him padding barefoot closer to me, hearing the pitter patter of his feet on the polished oak floor. Note to self: mop the floor soon. I look up and see him mere inches away from me. He takes my half-full mug from my hands and puts it gently down on the counter behind him on the breakfast bar, alongside his own. Confused as to why he'd do that I open my mouth slightly to question it, confusion setting in my brow creasing in the middle, taking a deep breath. Bad move. I inhaled a breath of him. I could smell my vanilla soap on him. On anyone else, that would seem insanely feminine but to me, it just enhances his masculinity. His hair smells like my shampoo, fresh and clear like a summer's day. His face was cleanly shaven and his beautiful brown eyes were dancing with excitement and something else, I couldn't quite put my finger on. He pushes my knees apart slightly so he can stand closer to me, his face now mere centimeters from mine. He pulls that little half-smile that sends my pulse racing and I lean back on my arms, chuckling slightly. I'd figured out the look in his eyes. Lust. His hands go either side of my hips and I returned to my upright position. I'm short for my age and him being average height, it put us at eye-level with each other. Looking deeply into each other's eyes, I felt something click into place, like a spark igniting between us. Just looking into his eyes and him into mine, created our own world, where everything else faded away; it was just me and him in the little kitchenette. Biting my lower lip nervously, not sure what to do in a moment like this, he caught me by surprise by knowing what to do. He decided he wanted to bite my lip. He presses his soft full lips into my own, gently, like a whisper. He gently touched them together, brushing them once, twice, thrice, over my own parted lips. My hands travel up his body until they're tangled in his soft way and still-damp hair. He presses his lips into mine again, and runs his teeth oh-so softly, it felt like I imagined it, against my lower lip. I feel his hands travelling up my back, caressing all the discs on my spine until he got to my hair, where he slowly tugged my ponytail out, my curly hair hiding us in a sweet smelling curly curtain. I moaned against his lips as his tongue gently touched the seam of my lips, requesting entry I wasn't ready to give just yet. Lightly scraping my own teeth against his full luscious lower lip, biting softly and soothing it with my tongue, I'm rewarded with a moan. Pulling away, his lashes brushed mine, giving each other butterfly kisses and we touched our foreheads together. My hands still tangled in his hair, he gently disentangle his fingers from mine to run them back down my back until he reaches the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up slightly and I tense, wondering if he took something I did as permission to go further. Zayn, forever a gentleman, sensing my paranoia, picks me up off the counter like I weigh nothing and puts me back on my feet. His fingers run lines on the backs of my hips, his nails, carrying out exquisite torture that wrecks havoc on my senses. Our tea forgotten and my hands still in his hair he leans down to kiss me again......

But he doesn't.

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