You had me at hello - a Zayn Malik fan fiction (not famous)

19 years old Irene has a normal boring life in Italy, until the day she leaves for the U.K. with her best friend Alice. There, she meets Zayn, the most beautiful boy she has ever seen.
Love, friendship, jealousy and drama mess up Irene's new life, giving her the chance to find what she has been looking for.


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24. Holding hands

“Oh, finally, all your girl-talks were killing me!” Zayn jokes while closing his bedroom door behind us.

“What are you talking about? Those weren’t “girl-talks”, it was just me getting along with your sweet sisters!” I explain.

“Way too much!” he laughs, before sticking his tongue out at me.

I hit him on his shoulder and act offended. I take a look around: I’ve been in this room plenty of times, but being here at night, alone with Zayn and with no dust mops in my hands, everything feels different.

“Did you like the dinner?” Zayn smiles, while he sits on his chair.

“Yeah!” I claim, rubbing my stomach. “I’m fuuuull! Everything was delicious!”

“Sit down on my bed, stop wandering around the room!”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“It’s your bed!”

“…So?!”

“I don’t know…I don’t even wanna think about all the dirt that I would come in contact with if I put my ha-“

Zayn shuts me up, putting his hand on my mouth, and pushing me on the bed. We fall sitting next to each other, laughing. His touch on my skin burns like fire.

“YOU are the one supposed to keep this clean!” he mocks me, while approaching his hands, planning to tickle me.

“Yeah, but I can’t work magic!”. I grab his hands in order to protect me from his evil intents. “Zaaaaaayn, I know what you’re thinking, but I really hate tickling….”

He bites his lips, smiling maliciously, while he gets closer to me and wraps me with his arms, teasing me with his fingers on my tummy and my hips.

“Zayn, stoooop! I hate iiiiiit!” just like that night, I’m screaming and squeaking like a little girl, while he laughs in satisfaction. “Zayn, Zayn, la-last time we fell off!”

He suddenly stops, still laughing, and without taking his hands off my body, he looks me in the eyes; I hold back his gaze, trying to understand what he’s thinking. His face is few inches away from me, I can enjoy every little detail of his beauty and I can feel his warm breath on my skin. His eyes sparkles, his stubble is perfect, is black flat hair is beautiful. I swear I have never seen something so beautiful in my whole life.

“You know…I love the color of your hair.” He whispers, dunking his fingers in my curly locks.

I try not to blush too much, turning my eyes away from his.

“No, really…it’s got some strange red glare…it’s so special!”

He looks charmed by my hair, he stares at it with a faint smile on his lips. I can’t keep my eyes off of him, no matter how hard I try.

“My parents have both dark hair, like you! I don’t know why I came out “ginger”!” I laugh.

“You’re not “ginger”!”. While he says that, he places his hand on mine by accident. But he doesn’t pull back: he slowly intertwines his fingers with mine, and it’s the best feeling ever.

“You’re more like…copper…red…I-I don’t know, there’s no way to define your hair color actually. You’re just…Irene!” he exclaims, while passing his hands from my hair to my cheeks.

“And you also got some freckles and moles that make you eeeven cuter!” he mumbles, jokingly caressing my skin, which is red as fire by now.

“Are you trying to embarrass me, Zayn?”

“No, I’m being honest! I’m telling what I like about you!” he swallows and his pummel hops along his neck.

“Your freckles are truly cute.” He goes on, after few seconds. “I like them. And I also like the crinkles that come up beside your eyes when you smile a lot!”.

We’re still holding hands, and he’s rubbing my skin with his thumb.

“Zayn, you’re quite strange tonight!”

“I know!” he smiles bending his head; he stares at the bed, rubs his mouth with his hand, sighs heavily and lifts his head up again, locking his eyes on mine.

“Ugh, I’m already tired as fuck!” Zayn yawns stretching his right arm, still keeping his left hand hold in mine.

“I guess you did a lot of tiring things today, huh?” I tease him.

“Yes, I actually did!” Zayn answers playfully. “I need to rest now! And your legs seem to be quite comfortable!...” he claims while laying down and placing his head on my thighs; he closes his dark charming eyes and pretends to sleep.

“Oh, and you think you can use me as a pillow whenever you want, don’t you?” I shake him.

The only answer I get is a loud grunt, as Zayn pretends to be snoring. I burst out laughing, and lean against the wall behind my back, surrendering to Zayn’s will.

Our fingers are still intertwined.

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