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.


38. The surprise

I’ve just got ready when the doorbell rings. I’ve put on a cute black dress, tight, but not too much, with some lace on the hem. A simple make-up and loose curly hair falling on my shoulders. I rapidly grab my purse and rush downstairs, as fast as possible, since I’m wearing high-heeled shoes.

I run outside, in the cool evening, and Zayn is there on the sidewalk, laid back against his car. When he sees me, a grin appears on his face and his gaze lightens up. I scan his figure: God, he’s something words can’t even describe. He’s wearing dark-blue jeans, a long sleeved white t-shirt and a black blazer, along with one of his necklaces.

“Wow, you look incredible.” He says, raising his eyebrow as his eyes run all along my body.

“Thanks!” I shyly mumble, walking towards him and giving him an hug.

“Shall we go?” Zayn says, bending his head towards his car.

I nod and get in.

“So, mister “surprise”, are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” I smirk looking at Zayn.

“Not yet!” he answers giggling.

“Ooooh, I’m so curious, you can’t live me hanging here!” I puff, crossing my arms on my chest, while Zayn is still laughing, keeping is gaze on the street.

“I know you’re anxious, and it just makes everything funnier!” he cheekily answers before making a playful smirk.

I shake my head and stay silent while we drive along the streets.


“Here we are!” Zayn parks and looks at me, grabbing my arm to stop me when he sees that I’m already getting out of the car.

“Wait...uhm…” he mutters, turning to look for something in the back of the car.

“I got you something.” He claims shyly, almost embarrassed, his eyes laid on the packet he’s handing me out.

“Zayn…” I answer incredulous, not really knowing what to say. Did he really get me a present?

“It’s nothing, it’s…” he starts giggling, being visibly eager to see my reaction.

I open the packet and find a jar of saffron. I lift my head and quizzically glance at Zayn.

“It’s just that…I really loved your risotto and this is like the best saffron available in the world!”

I smirk, not really knowing if I should laugh, slap him or be worried about his mental health.

“Ok, thanks…” I awkwardly answer, putting the jar in my purse.

Zayn bursts out laughing, throwing back his head and clapping his hands, overwhelmed by the amusement.

“Why are you laughing so hard, Zayn?” I giggle, infected by him.

“This was…this was a joke, babe.” He says as soon as he’s able to talk again. Then puts his hand in his pocket and brings out a piece of paper rolled up and wrapped with a bow.

This…” he places it in my hand. “…is a gift. But, promise me you won’t open it until you’re home, alone.”

I make a confused smirk, while my heart starts racing for the thrill.


“Just...just promise.” He begs me, blushing a little.

“Ok.” I surrender and promise to obey.


We finally get out of the car, and I take a glimpse of the place where we are: it’s a small cute brick house, surrounded by a green yard; the plaque on the gate says “Maliks’ house”.

“Is this…?” I start asking, realizing where we are.

“Yes. This is my old house. This is where I grew up!” Zayn claims, his faces radiated by a passion I can’t even describe.

I smile and follow him through the front garden. It’s not very big, the grass is green and neat, and, here and there, a few rosebushes and small bloomy trees make it very beautiful.

“Isn’t this the house where your older sister and her husband live, now?” I ask, seeing that the house seems to be empty.

“Yeah, but I may have corrupted her, in order to get the house, just for tonight…” Zayn confesses, evilly grinning while he pulls the key from his pocket and opens the door.

“Here we are, babe.” He says, holding out his hand to me, and leading me inside the tiny hallway. I take a look around: right in front of the entrance there’s a flight of stairs; on the left, there’s a door that takes to the kitchen. On the right, the hallway continues past the stairs and leads to what seems to be a dining room. Everything is in darkness, and I can’t really see it.

“Zayn, are you going to turn the light on or…?”

“No, follow me.” he whispers, his lips against my ear.

He walks along the corridor, holding my hand; step by step, I see a faint light in the dining room. As soon as we get there, what I see leaves me speechless. The room is full of candles of different sizes, scattered on the big dining-table, on the floor and on the other pieces of furniture. Among them, a carpet of petals, covering all the floor. And a part of the table is set for two, a big bouquet of red roses in the middle.

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