Passion '3

New York City is the city where dreams are bound to come true.
But what happens when Emily Hawthorne realise that her dreams and love-life doesn't fit as perfectly together as she had hoped?


8. Morning Rain

Zayn's P.O.V


I was awoken the next morning by the sound of running water. A loud sound that I first thought came from the bathroom, but as my eyes fluttered open, I could see the rain hammering against the wry window above Emily's bed, or so called mattress on the floor. Heavy drops hit the glass often and hard. It was simply pouring down outside. Somehow I felt disappointed that the sun wasn't shining, because I had surely been excited to spend the day in New York City with her, but on second thought, staying inside and cuddling up all day seemed just as nice - if not even nicer. It was only a matter of hours, before I had to be on my way back to Connecticut, and I had every intention on making those hours count. A yawn escaped my lips, as I rolled around in hopes of seeing a small brunette by my side; but there was no one there. Perhaps she was in the shower, as I had hoped before I opened my eyes. I pulled up in a half sitting position, my body weight resting on my elbows. 

"Em?" I called out, expecting a soft voice calling back from somewhere, but for the second time; there was no one there - at least no answer to be heard, and it was not like the rain muffled my voice. I groaned a little and decided to get up. The wooden floor felt cold against my feet, and on my tiptoes I jumped around, collecting pieces of my clothes from yesterday. I threw yesterdays clothing in a pile on the floor, and then bent down to pick up a clean pair of boxers from the bottom of my bag. 


Emily's P.O.V


Somehow I managed to unlock the door, with a heavy plastic bag on each arm and cold, wet, shaky hands. My hair was dripping water, and during the short time I had been standing in the boom in front of my door, a little puddle had surrounded me. My shoes were filled with water, and every step I had been taking, felt like walking in small puddle - it sounded funny and felt uncomfortable, but the thought coming back home had been calming all the way home from the store. So when I pushed open the door and stepped inside the apartment, I had never been so happy to be in my small spaced home; knowing that Zayn would be waiting here, surely made an impact and the feeling of joy was magnified. A relieved sigh escaped my lips, and my sore arms finally got a break, when I put down the bags on the floor in the hall. 

The air was a fair bit warmer in here, and my cold hands soon yearned for something warm to grab. I knew that I would be in need of a cup tea, but first I would to see if Zayn still was in bed. I doubted he was, because the rain against my wry windows made it hard to sleep - but hopefully he had not been awake for long. I rubbed my hands against each other, slipped of my jacket and hung it on a hanger - hoping for it not drip water on my cheep wooden floors. 

After that I turned to face my feet as I kicked of my water filled shoes, and gently pushed them onto the doormat - so they wouldn't leak all too much on the floor. 

"There you are," a soft voice spoke and my eyes shot up, and ended on a half naked man in my hallway. My lips curled up in a smile, "I... I was out getting some food." I nodded towards the bags on the floor.

"You look like a drowned mouse." Zayn chuckled and tilted his head a little, watching me with tender eyes. 

"I feel like one to, cold and very dead." 

He remained silent. 

"I think I'll hit the shower and get warmed up a bit," I said. My body felt stiff and my hands were far some useable. 

"May I-" It seemed as if Zayn was going to invite himself with me at first, but then changed his mind; "I'll start cooking then." 


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