Mute || A Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Sam is a tomboy. A not girly girl. She loves rock and only has boys as friends. Really, her life sucks. But that's all going to change when she's offered a new job.

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1. Chapter O1||

When did I become one of the bad guys? -Mike Posner

 

Chapter One||

I came out of the bedroom after I took off my black eyeliner. I felt naked without. I suck without my eyeliner. If I didn’t have black eyes, I looked like a girl. Urgh. 
“I know what you think, but you do not suck!” Eric mumbled, not looking at me. At all. I plopped on the sofa and started pulling my shoes off. “Yes I do. Who are you texting anyways?”

No. No. NO. Eric and I are NOT dating. Ew. Dating. No, I met that dickhead at high school, where he started stalking me. Well, not really stalking, but, you know.. So we became friends. And he followed me to college and now we’re roommates. It’s George, PJ, Eric and me. Always. That means I have to listen to conversations about which girl is the best in bed, when a boob is big and who has the fattest ass. Which are conversations I clearly enjoy. Noticed the sarcasm? Well, everything’s a better conversation than one about love.

“Ooooeeehh are you jealous?” he ‘sang’. And with that he deserved my shoe in his face. “Ow..” I grinned. “Your own fault, dickhead. I just wanted to make sure you don’t bring a girl tonight, or drugs.” He smiled mischievously. “No worried, it’s nothing like that.” He wouldn’t tell me. Fine.

“I want you to babysit Rachel tonight, though. OW!” Yup, that was my second shoe. I groaned. “And why’s that?” He shrugged. “PJ was planning on going out tonight. And his poor girlfriend wanted girl company.”
“If she wants ‘girl company’ you should go yourself. That stupid kid hates me anyways.” I looked at him like he was crazy. Which he was. I never met PJ’s ‘poor’ girlfriend, only Rachel, their daughter. Yes, PJ was being a total jerk, fucking her up with a child, but I really wasn’t planning on going somewhere tonight. Well, I was planning on an evening on the couch watching TV in my sweatpants.

 

I watched myself in the mirror. My black dyed hair was longer at the front than the back and it was about shoulder length. But at the front it was longer and at the back.. you get it. My grained green eyes are mixed with a very dark brown, which I got from my father. My nose was pretty small, but straight. My cheeks had a natural pink color, which I absolutely hated. I’m kinda pretty, I’m not lying. But I’m a tomboy. A not girly girl. That means I wear black shirts and low jeans, a hoodie and a cap. Never a skirt, dress or heels. I am lazy, have a huge appetite and I smell. Most of the time. I am the king of Call of Duty, which means I beat every single boy (or other creature) on this freaking planet. And probably other planets too. I am the queen of being single, I never had a boyfriend and I’m not planning on getting one either. And most of all, I am the goddess of Rock. Which means I puke at songs like Someone Like You, HYFR and Starships or names like Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber. Give me my Florence and the Machine, Green day and The Killers please.

I sighed and walked back to Eric. “Well, I’m not going. It’s PJ’s kid and Veronica is free tonight, so why would I bother?” Eric grinned. Again. Prepare for the jokes…

“You don’t want to meet Veronica? Are you scared she’ll wear a skirt? Are you scared she’ll talk about boys? Are you afraid she’ll talk about love?” At this moment I wish I had three shoes. “Oh shut up, dickhead.” He shrugged. “Only if you’re going, bigboob.”

“OWWWW!” I hit him. Hard. One of the good things of being a tomboy, I guess. You can hit people. “I know I have big boobs, now shut the fuck up! Dickhead.”
Boys… Boobs and asses are the only things their mind can recognize.

He grinned. A-FUCKING-GAIN. “I’ll make you go, pussyface.” I rolled my eyes at his new try of a nickname, before I realized what he meant.

“NO ERIC, NO! No. No no no! No. And If I wasn’t clear enough... NOOO!”

*A half hour later*

“YES!” No, that was not me. Eric and I are standing in front of Veronica’s student apartment now, he won. How, you may ask? The same way he always get me places I don’t want to go. He locked me up in George’s closet. And you do NOT wanna know what the hell is in there… Or how it looks… Or smells… You get my drift.

I tried to run away, but that dude is like a wall! I groaned. “Do I really have to?!” His turn to roll his eyes. “Stop acting like a five year old and just ring the doorbell, pussyface,” he demanded, clearly loving his new nickname for me.

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. “Fine. Go away, you annoying dickhead. Shoo!” He laughed and walked away. His hands in his pocket and his jacket moving in the wind. Like a slow-motion chick-flick movie or something. He turned around. “I don’t know why, but you are going to thank me for this! I swear! Have a good evening. I’ll pick you up at one.” He turned his back to me and started walking again. “Pussyface!”

I smiled at his goofiness. He’s an ass, a real dickhead, but he’s Eric.

I turned around when he was out of sight and I looked at the sky, where the stars were being all sparkly and everything. My eyes rested on the moon. “God, please don’t let her wear a skirt,” I murmured before I pressed the doorbell.

 

 

(A/N: Hello.

I'm new here, and I haven't read a story yet, so I have no idea if this is any good. Let me know (:

Bye.xx)

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