16. Zayn Malik 2
I knew that he was off limits. He was a punk. He was a troublemaker. He skipped class daily. But, despite all of the horrible rumors that were spread around I still wanted him. I, unlike everyone else, didn’t see all the bad things. I knew he skipped class because he would ask to go to the bathroom and he would never come back.
“Estelle! Are you thinking about him again?!” my friend yelled at me at lunch. The way she said his name made me mad. Like he was so bad we couldn’t even say his name.
“What difference does it make to you?” I grumbled back.
“He’s NO GOOD. He skips EVERY CLASS. He’s a TROUBLEMAKER. HE’S NO GOOD!” She yelled again.
I glared at her. I knew all this stuff. She made a point to tell me every day since she found out I liked him. Okay, HE had a name. It was Zayn and in some language I can’t remember, it meant beautiful. I believed it. In my eyes he was beautiful, he was gorgeous.
She smirked thinking she had won.
“You know what?” I spat at her, “I’m not going to put up with this anymore. How would you like it if I picked out every little thing your boyfriend did wrong? Huh?!?”
“Well that wouldn’t happen because my boyfriend isn’t a juvenile,” she smirked again.
I stood up, and grabbing my tray, I dumped it and stormed out.
As I was stomping down the hall, I heard footsteps behind me, but I chose to ignore them, assuming it was another freshman wanting my number and honestly I was planning on giving them Savannah’s because she was being such a bitch. When the footsteps didn’t stop, I turned around and said, “Do you fucking mind you dumb ass freshman?!?! I’m not in the fucking mood!!!”
“So now I’m a freshman? I could’ve sworn I was a junior like you,” he said.
I gasped. “Zayn?”
“That’s the name,” he smirked.
“Why were you following me?” I asked.
“You looked upset,” he shrugged, “I do have a heart despite what they say you know.”
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m a bastard. I’m a troublemaker. I’m a player. I’m-”
“None of the above,” I say.
*FAST FORWARD FIVE YEARS*
“Shh… Leah… Please stop crying,” I plead bouncing our little baby girl Leah up and down in my arms.
I sigh when she finally calms down and I can lay her down for her nap. I started to clean up the toys she had thrown everywhere, when I heard a key untwisting the lock on our front door.
“Estelle? You in?” A males’ voice calls.
“In the living room babe,” I call back.
I continue picking up toys as I hear him put his stuff down, take his coat off, and come walking into the living room where I was. I could hear him coming closer and help me pick up Leah’s toys. When we finished, we sat on the couch snuggled in each other’s arms.
“I think we’re doing a pretty good job,” he says, “dontcha think?”
“Yeah Zayn, we are,” I say and kiss his lips.