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Sneak peak:
"He lets go of me, looking sadly down at his toes for a moment.
Then his facial expression changes and it goes hard.

He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is looking, and then he graps my arm, hard, and pushes me up against the nearest wall. I feel the cold, hard brick wall against my back and Zayn is like 3 cm from my face. His hands are resting on the wall on either side of my head.
I cannot move and I feel completely trapped. I can feel his body heat and his hot breath on my face.
I shiver. He scares me, but at the same time he is god damn sexy.

"Who have you talked to? Are people talking?" How does he even expect me to answer this when he's literally crushing me up against a fucking wall?"

A fanfiction about a new girl and the bad boy, Zayn Malik.


34. Apartment search

Zayn drives me to my house, and I hurry inside to leave my bag and put on a warmer jacket. It's cold out today, which is expected since it's early autumn. My parents are at work so I grab a pen and leave a note, saying I'll be back. Zayn has made an appointment with a realtor, so we are heading out to see two different flats. I'm flattered that he wants me to accompany him, and not his mum or one of his friends that he has known for longer. The drive to the first place is short, and Zayn parks the car behind the realtors' more bussiness-looking car. The man is leaning against his car, with his phone pressed to his ear. He's almost bald, and has deep furrows in his forehead, and a black briefcase in his hand. When we step out of the car, he puts his phone back into his pocket and reaches out to shake each of our hands. We are stood in front of a small, old looking, brick complex, with small framed windows facing out to a small street with a few small shops. He puts his phone back in his pocket, and gestures towards the lousy looking entrence to the staircase. "Women first,". The man holds the door open for me, and I give him a tiny smile and enter, as he and Zayn discuss some details and different numbers behind me. The apartment is quite old and dusty. It has dark colored walls and dark hardwood floors, and there is not much light coming in through the small windows either. Honestly it has got a bit of a creepy vibe to it. Luckily Zayn agrees with me, and we quickly get in the car again, and follow the realtor to the second place. I'm surprized to find that this place is even closer to our street. The small complex looks like it's build within a few years, and it's deffinetly more modern looking than the other. The facade is clean white painted brick with big wide windows. It looks quite pricey. - "Nice," I say, and he nods, looking pretty impressed himself, adjusting his black beanie. - "Yea I saw this one online," he smiles and squeezes my hand before we enter. The flat is on the first floor, and it's litterally perfect. It's bigger and much lighter than the other one. Every wall is shiny white, reflecting the lgiht streaming in through the huge windows, even though it has started raining outside. It's modern and clean, almost clinical. There is a fair sized bedroom, a nice looking bathroom, good open kitchen and living room. I could totally picture myself living here, it's so my style. I'm not all about the colored walls and confusing wallpaper. Judging from Zayn's face, he likes it as well. - "Wicked isn't it?" he runs his hand over the shiny kitchen counter. - "Yea, you could totally live here," I agree, as he steals a kiss, pulling my body to his. - "Though my mum might have to force me to sell my car," he jokes, and I admire the way his tounge rests behind his teeth. He looks so happy. ** When we get home, I decide to invite Zayn in, knowing that my parents are home. - "He-ey!" I say loudly as we enter. I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack, along with my shoes. A part of me immediatly regret telling Zayn to do the same, as he is only wearing a T-shirt under his leather jacket, revealing his inked arms - that my parents definetly wont appreciate to be reminded of. And Zayn isn't excatly shy about them, so it would be rude to tell him to cover them. Anyway I don't want him to think I am ashamed of him - it's not that, I just don't want my parent to judge him. - "I brought Zayn," I say, but silently curse myself when my dad appears from the living room. The two of them haven't been properly introduced. My dad's eyes instantly fall on Zayn's tattoos, making me cringe. - "Hello Zayn," he says in a way a bosss would talk to an employee and reach out to shake Zayn's hand, practically scowling at him. - "Hello Mr. Fray," he says politely and gives my dad a firm handshake, and doesn't seem the least bothered by my dads scowl. I try to catch my dads eyes, to tell him that he can back off now, but he continues looking at Zayn - and then to Zayn's beanie, like what do you think you're cool wearing a hat inside? Eventually Zayn takes my hand in his, and I lead us upstairs without a second word. - "Well that wasn't awkward. He seem to quite like me," he jokes. Obviously not. I try to roll my eyes at him, but can't stop laughing. "Though I don't blame him," he says giving me a knowing look, that makes my skin hot, and wraps his arms around me from behind. I let his scent fill my nosetrills and I feel both safe and on edge somehow. - "Yea sorry, my parents usually aren't that smothering," I say, but I really can't blame them either. Zayn's appearance is a bit of a handful to be fair. I feel his warm breath tease the skin just behind my ear, and he runs his warm hands through mine, which are cold from the rain outside. - "Anyway, when I buy that place, I'm sure that's where we'll be spending our time," he says, and throws himself onto my bed. He reaches over to my nightstand and grabs the lates issue of Seventeen Magazine, and starts flipping through the first pages, with a cheecky grin playing over his lips.
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