☠ Chapter Twenty-Two ☠
song of the chapter is 'Pocket Full of Dreams' by Hedley :)
➳ ZAYN'S POV
"I'm serious. Don't make me say something I can't take back," I say to her. Her eyes go wide when she realizes what I've said, but she doesn't flinch away from me like I expect her to. She knows the truth to my words – when I'm angry I don't think. Although I'm not sure I could ever say something hurtful to her, no matter how angry I feel.
"Fine then, I'll just call someone to come get me," she glares at me for a moment before turning and walking away from me. I admire the way her hips sway while she walks. I drink another portion of the whiskey. She's watching me from the doorway with sadness and anger filled in her eyes. I press the button on the radio and the music fills the space between us.
I turn towards my car and pop the hood. I just stare at it. There's nothing for me to fix, or adjust in my car, it's just a distraction from her. Liquor bottle in hand, I cross the garage and stand at the bottom of the stairs. I can hear Arielle as she paces back and forth.
"I need Louis to come get me, please," I hear her practically beg into the speaker of her cellphone. She must be talking to that hyperactive chick. Fuck, what was her name again? I swallow more whiskey, which isn't helping my foggy memory at the moment. It was something with a Z, wasn't it? Whatever, it's not like it matters. I'm not fucking her therefore I don't need to know her fucking name. She's annoying anyways.
I hear a sigh fall from Arielle's lips. "Yeah, it's fine. I'm just kind of stuck at Zayn's. I'm not feeling well and he isn't able to take me home is all. Thanks anyways," she lies to the person on the other end of the phone.
Why didn't she tell that chick why she wanted to leave? Maybe whatever Arielle's hiding from me, she's hiding from her friend as well? Whatever it is I know that is must be big. I can see it in her eyes, I can see just how much it weighs on her shoulders. What the fuck could be so serious that she is scared to tell me? Why doesn't she trust me enough to tell me?
I think that's one of the worst parts of it. She doesn't trust me. She doesn't trust me enough to tell me what is bothering her. I've done nothing but protect her since I first laid eyes on her. Why doesn't she fucking trust me?
"Love you too," Arielle mumbles into the phone. I hear her sigh again. She walks over to the couch and slumps down in it. She stares aimlessly at the walls as if she's deep in thought.
She calls Sky over to her and the puppy cuddles up into her side. I take another sip and walk back into the garage. There's simply no more anger left inside of me. Maybe it's the liquor, or maybe it's watching Arielle that has calmed me I'm not sure.
The song changes and I turn the volume up louder.
I know she's curious about Langley. Fuck, she's already figured out that Ryder isn't his actual name. How can I be sure that she doesn't already know about Sullivan? I think she'd mention or at least ask if she knew about Sullivan. But how can I be sure? Obviously Arielle's better at keeping secrets than I thought she was.
I want to tell her it all. It'd be nice to tell her, but I can't. Telling her would put her in danger. And that's the exact opposite of what I want. I want Arielle to be safe. I want her to be cared for – loved. And I want to be the one making her feel those things. No one else.
It's my responsibility to make her feel beautiful.
I turn the music up and take another swig of whiskey. My movements seem slow now, and everything seems a little more interesting. I might be a little drunk, but it doesn't make me feel any fucking better.
I know that I shouldn't have pushed her so far. She's obviously not comfortable enough with me yet to tell me what's going on. Maybe she just needs a little encouragement . . . maybe she just needs to see how much I care . . . how I'll listen to her until she's tired and her voice is hoarse. I'll listen until I know she feels relieved. She needs to know this.
I turn the music off and it's suddenly so quiet that my ears begin ringing. It's not a comfortable silence and it just reminds me why I came down here in the first place. I stand up and swallow liquor until the burning in my throat becomes too much.
I stumble over to my car and put the hood down. I wonder what Arielle is doing. Is she playing with Sky? Is she watching television? Is she sitting out on the deck? Now that's something I'd love to paint: Arielle's beautiful skin against a red sunset. Fuck, I just want to see her and hold her.
I cross the garage as fast as I can, but it's like my feet suddenly weigh twenty pounds each. I take a seat at the bottom stair. It seems as though it takes me forever to unlace my boots, but eventually I end up pulling them off my feet and relief washes over me.
I try to stand, but my legs fail me. "Arielle," I call out to my Angel. I try again and end up making it up two stairs before they fail me again. I end up on my hands and knees as I attempt to make my way up the stairs. My level of intoxication is too high for me to judge distance and height and I have a hell of a time. "Babygirl?" I call her again, hoping that she hears me. I need to see her. She needs to know that I'm sorry – that I care.
My head feels like a hundred pounds as I lift it, looking up towards the upper floor. I find her little feet at the top of the stairs. She's looking down at me, worried. "Babygirl . . . Love . . . I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I mumble out to her. I end up collapsing at the platform. My body's too intoxicated to allow me the strength to make it up these fucking stairs.
Arielle runs to my side quickly, "are you okay?" She asks, grabbing my arm lightly.
I sit up and slump against the wall behind me. I end up giving her an intoxicated smile. She smiles and chuckles lightly when she realizes that I’m okay, I'm just really fucking drunk.
"Here, come on." She grips my arm tighter and attempts to lift me with her own strength, but I don't even budge. I can't help the smile that overwhelms my face. It's cute that she thinks she's strong enough to lift my body when it feels so heavy. She tugs at my arm again and I use all of the strength I have left to stand up. She leads me up the stairs.
She's completely patient with me as I stumble on a few of the damn steps. She leads me down the hall and into my bedroom. She carefully places me on the edge of the bed.
"I'll be right back okay? Stay here . . ." she begins walking away and then she turns around, "and take your clothes off."
I smirk and she rolls her eyes. I stare at the walls around me. There are so many quotes and pictures that it's overwhelming to me in my state. I should clear a wall and tell Arielle that it's hers. She'll be able to write or draw whatever she wants to on it. Would she like that?
It feels like she's been gone for mere seconds. She walks through my bedroom door with a bottle of water. She walks up to me and puts her arm out, handing me the bottle of water. "Here, drink this."
As I grab the bottle from her hand, my hand touches hers; her warmth totally radiating off her body. "You didn't get undressed," she points out.
"Would you like a wall?" I blurt out.
She cocks her head to the side, "what?"
I use the bottle to point to a wall, "would you like a wall? I can clear it off and it can be yours, and you can write whatever you want on it babygirl, yeah?"
She chuckles, "no Zayn. Now c'mon we're going to get you ready for bed." She reaches for the hem of my shirt. I comply and lift my arms. She tugs it off my body and discards it on the bed beside me.
Her eyes wander down my torso. I can see the glimmer of arousal in her features. I put the bottle of water down beside me and reach forward. My hands go up the back of her skirt and I rest them just under her ass. I can feel the bare skin of her bottom and it's already enough to drive me crazy. She looks down at me and softly runs her one hand through my hair. But then her hands go downwards and she carefully removes my hands from their position. I was quite enjoying that. I pout my lip overdramatically.
Arielle grabs my right hand – her thumb softly rubs over the cuts on my knuckles. She looks down at my hand with worry. I watch her backside as she walks into the bathroom. I hear the tap running and she comes back with a warm washcloth. She dabs it gently on my knuckles, removing that fucking dickhead's blood from my hand. My other hand finds the back of her thigh again, but this time she doesn’t move it, either because she's distracted with cleaning my wounds, or because she likes it there.
I'll just assume it's the latter.
I knead her soft skin, but it's short lived. Once she's done, she pulls away from me and walks to the washroom. She's in there for only a moment as she rids of the washcloth and then she's standing in front of me again. "Stand," she demands.
My mind flashes with us role-playing before I fuck her senseless. Oh god, there's so many things I'd love to do to her.
I obediently do as I'm told and stand before her. Her small hands reach for the zipper on my jeans and she undoes it. She quickly pulls my pants down and when she bends down to grab the fabric which has pooled at my ankles it takes everything in me to not grab her, turn her around and pound into her until she's sweaty and screaming my name.
She stands back up and I instantly reach for the hem of her shirt. My hands wander up it and I grab the soft skin of her tummy. My head darts forward and my lips attach to her neck. I suck softly, drawing blood to the surface. I know she loves this – I can feel her pulse race every time underneath the soft tips of my fingers.
My left hand wanders down to her ass again. It's so hard to not squeeze her ass, knowing it could set her off. And so my hand just wanders up her skirt a little.
I detach my lips from her skin, "babygirl, let me make love to you." I nibble softly on her ear.
A small gasp escapes her lips. She pulls her lip between her teeth. She's shuddering beneath my touch.
"Let me make love to you, not just fuck you. Angel, I want to show you how good I can make you feel. I want you to see how much I care." My hand shamefully roams the naked skin underneath her skirt.
She finally touches me, placing her hands on my bare torso. Every nerve ending lights on fire. "I'm still mad at you," she breathes.
"I know," I say. "You know that I'm sorry, right? I didn't mean to upset you. I just want you to trust me. I want you to share with me. I can see how much this is hurting you and I don't like it. I'm supposed to make you feel safe and I'm obviously not doing a very good job." I kiss her neck and her jawline. In any other instance I would've already fucked her, but this is different. I was used to doing this fast and hard, but with her I wanted to make it last. I wanted to memorize her breathing pattern, the sinful curves in her body; I wanted to hear her softly moaning my name because it was the only word she could form coherently.
"Zayn, this isn't your fault," she says breathless. She tilts her head, allowing me more access. My hands move further up her skirt.
"Do you trust me?" I ask, still peppering her skin with kisses. I'm leaving little spots of wet evidence everywhere I've been. Her fingers are threaded in my hair and she gives me a light tug when I nibble on her ear. My hands move around her thighs and I slip them under the waistband of her panties, teasing her.
"Do you trust me?" I reiterate. I reach for the hem of her shirt and she lifts her arms delicately. I take my time, skimming her soft skin tantalizingly.
She nods her head before I pull the shirt off her body. My hands immediately reach for her skin. Her skin is a beautiful shade of olive from hours outside in the sun. I admire the piece of metal hanging from her navel, knocking it lightly with my finger. She looks down at her belly button and then runs her fingers through my hair. I slowly look up at her, shamefully admiring her beautiful body in front of me.
She was beautiful. She was skinny and toned, but she wasn't skeleton skinny, which I admired. I liked that naturally she wasn't a double zero. Skeletons weren't my thing. She was confident and happy and it gave me all of the happiness I needed. I run my fingers gently down her spine and she closes her eyes, loving the feeling.
"I'll get there Zayn," she mumbles out, breathless. Her eyes are still closed; her fingers frozen in my hair. I admire the curve of her breasts in her bra. I'm tempted to pull the straps down, but I want this to last. Instead, I lean forward and pepper her collarbones with wet kisses. I nibble at the skin, and begin sucking softly at her collarbone, leaving a prominent mark. She moans out. It's a sound that makes my heart race, a sound I'd love to hear come from her lips every day.
I place a few soft kisses to the top of her breasts and reach for the waistband of her skirt. She sways her hips, helping me to shimmy her body out of the material. I lean forward, licking a bold strip just above her navel.
She's standing before me in just her undergarments and it's a stunning sight. Her body is dented and curved in such a heavenly manner than every man on Earth would be jealous of me at this moment as I place my hands on her body again.
"Zayn, you're drunk," she says as she tugs at my roots.
I casually slip my hands under the waistband of her panties again, massaging the soft skin. I hook my thumbs underneath the band. She looks up at me, eyes wide with anticipation. She slowly licks her lips.
I lean forward as slowly as I can manage and press my lips to hers. Arielle jumps a little at first, not used to me being so gentle with her, but she soon melts under my touch, leaning into me with ease. I pull away after a moment, "Arielle, you're beautiful." I murmur.
I run my fingers down her spine again, feeling the goose-bumps that rise with each little tap of my finger. I kiss the corner of her jaw and move down her neck. She hums softly, the vibration hits my lips which move upwards on her neck again. I kiss every inch of exposed skin my lips can find.
"And you're still drunk," she breathes into the crook of my neck. My lips move across her collarbone.
My hands move down until they're ghosting across the naked flesh on her bottom. Ever so carefully, I grab hold of her bottom. Her pulse races under my touch, but it's not out of anxiety, it's out of lust. I use my hands to massage the soft skin there. She doesn't even realize that I'm able to squeeze her bottom without eliciting a panic attack. I smile into the crook of her neck in victory.
"Babygirl," I kiss the skin underneath her ear. "I may be drunk, but you're still beautiful. And come tomorrow morning when I'm no longer drunk, I'm absolutely sure that you're still going to be as beautiful as ever."
She uses her hands to grab my face then, crashing her lips upon mine. I squeeze her bottom again and she moans. I use the break to slip my tongue into her mouth. Her hands fiercely tug at the roots of my hair.
I hear a bark then and Sky comes tumbling into the room. She jumps up onto the bed in a hurry and barks wildly at us. Much to my disliking, I'm forced to pull away from Arielle.
The moment I pull away from Arielle, Sky stops barking, moves around in a small circle and lays down. I crawl backwards on the bed until I'm lying down, head being held up by the pillows.
Arielle's still standing at the foot of the bed in just her bra and panties. Fuck. She steps towards my dresser and pulls out one of my tops. She quickly slips it on and stands before me. She manages to look so beautiful, no matter what she's wearing, or what state she's in.
She turns the light off to the bedroom and slowly walks over to me. There's only a small amount of light in the bedroom – the moonlight is illuminating her features as she crawls onto the bed beside me.
She crawls up to my side and comfortably fits right into it. I roll over to my side so that we're lying directly side by side, looking at each other. My eyes scan over her body, falling on her thigh. I'm finally able to see the tattoo inked into her skin. I gently run my fingers over the black shades. It's just as I imagined it to be, but it's so much different being able to carelessly run my fingers over it.
Out of nowhere Arielle quickly jumps off the bed and runs to the hallway. I roll back over onto my back. She turns left after exiting my room and after a few seconds of listening to her rustling around in something she runs back into the room. In her small hands she holds a black marker. She steps back up onto the bed and moves to straddle me.
Her hands run over my torso. She carefully traces the tattoos littered all over my skin. "I like this one," she says so quietly I almost don't hear it. She taps lightly on my upper chest – directly between my collarbones. She lightly traces the wings before leaning forward and placing her lips upon the lips that've been inked there. The feeling is exquisite.
My hands reach forward and massage the soft skin of her hips. I hear a slight pop sound as she pulls the lid off the marker. She looks to my chest and her free hand runs over my skin again, eliciting goose-bumps in its path. I inhale the scent that lingers on her skin – it's a mix of strawberries with a slight hint of my own scent.
She touches the marker to my skin. After a few moments, she pulls away and I look at what she's written on the skin above my heart.
I place my hand over it and smile at her. She places her hand directly on top of mine while returning the smile. "Kiss me," I demand, and she does. She tosses the marker onto the side table and crashes her lips onto mine.
After a few minutes she pulls away and sinks back into the bed. I snake my arms around her waist and sleep consumes us quickly.
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