long chapter since i've been gone so long lollll

***

It hurts.

It. This. This guilt gnawing on his digestive tract.

Zayn watches the stripper grind in Louis lap and he hears the whoops and cheers from his friends. It hurts because his girlfriend is the only reason he's here—he could've come home a day later—and he's standing around at a bachelor party he had no intention of attending.

But, it's worse because he had never seen his girlfriend so angry before and he had no idea, no possible way of knowing that this would all be his fault.

"Zayn?"

He blinks, staring at Harry, who is practically screaming over the music pulsing though the carpeted Phoenix floors.

"At least pretend to have a good time, shit."

Zayn smirks, shaking his head. He couldn't even articulate how difficult "fun" was for him in the moment. He couldn't even explain to his friend that he felt so uneasy and uncomfortable. He wanted to call her. He wondered what she was doing, what she was thinking now.

It reminded him of the first time he'd seen her as Starr at Phoenix. It reminded him of the first time she'd gone ghost.

And now his glassy stare has fixed on Niall throwing notes and he's wondering how in the hell he ended up here. He's wondering how in the hell he could have let a perfect vacation get ruined so completely. He's wondering how he could have possibly let this happen.

"Zayn," Harry shouts, just loud enough for him to hear. "Seriously, mate. Pretend to have fun. Do it for Lou," and he shakes his head. "For fuck's same...Between you and Luke—"

"Me and Luke?" Zayn chokes out a laugh. "At least I showed up."
__

"Hi, yeah...Totally. Shit! Yes...She's gonna fucking freak the fuck out--"

"Luke?"

"Huh?" Luke jumps, nearly dropping his whole phone in Desi's toilet. "Shit," he mutters, clambering to catch it. "Fuck fuck fuck..."

Luke is late to the bachelor party.

"You..." She flips on the light, illuminating her boyfriend...in the bathroom.

In her bathroom.

"You're in the dark, babe."

"Ha, uh..." He gulps. "Yeah. Yeah, I am huh?"

"Yeah," her eyebrow raises sharply and her hand flies to her cocked hip. "You are."

"Just saving electricity," he replies cheekily, tongue between his teeth as he flashes her that big smile. "Don't want to run up the bill..."

She purses her lips. "Right."

"Right," he slips his phone into his jeans pocket, "So, yeah. Yeah. Let's get out of here, shall we?" And he attempts to slide past her at the door.

She blocks him.

"Luke."

Fuck.

He grins, "Yeah, mi amor?"

"Don't mi amor me," she pokes him. "Why do you look suspicious? Why're you hiding in here? In..In the dark, Luke."

He kisses her cheek. "Electricity, babe."

"Luke."

And he sighs, leaning against the sink, pulling her between his legs.

"Babe," he strokes her hair, "I can't tell you--"

"Okay, but what happened to us being honest and open and that other sh--"

"I'm trying to surprise you," he kisses her, " so please shut up and please don't ruin my surprise, please?" He kisses her again before she can speak, "Santa doesn't tell all the fucking kids what they're gonna get for Christmas," he kisses her again, "Right?" Another kiss, "Don't make me fuck up Santa's deal."

She laughs at that, "Fine. Ahuevo."

He pauses, pulling away. "Did you..." He tilts his head, "You just call me an idiot?"

"With love," she grins, watching as he scowls, pushing past her. "And since when did you start taking Spanish?"

"Since I decided to be the nice one in the relationship!"

"Luke," she rolls her eyes. "Just get dressed—you're already late!"

"You love that kid, don't lie."

Rory's words, not hers.

It's what she said when Blaire had the girls over in preparation for her bachelorette party even though Asmaa had gone out of town. It's what she said when Luke dropped Desi off at Blaire's flat.

Desi está enculado, her brothers sang, because Desi was in love and she kind of hated that she couldn't deny it; she hated that it wasn't even a secret anymore.

She even found herself having fun at that damn Google party and she had fun because Luke really made her laugh and smile and she could joke with him all night despite the weirdness of the Google crew and the awkwardness of some of his coworkers.

"Takin' that young dick has you smiling more," Rory admits. She lifts a brow, "Guess he fucks you better than I can."

"Good-bye, Rory," exclaims Desirée as Kezie and Blaire both scream with laughter. "I hate you sometimes, I swear."

"You don't," she cackles. "But I have to say, you're glowing right now. Like, actually."

"She's right," Blaire grins. "You bout' to get married next, Des?"

"Bitch, she might be!" Kezie exclaims, and the girls all start laughing again. "We'll look up and Des got a whole husband and kids."

"First of all, out of all of us, watch Asmaa be the first to get married, okay?"

"I don't know, Des," Rory wags her finger. "It's always the cynical bitches that fuck around and fall in love first."

Blaire nods, "The ones not looking are the ones who end up finding something first," she laughs. "Look at me!"

"I don't know," Desi shakes her head. "And I'm not just saying this 'cause I don't want to talk about me," she snorts. "But, the way Asmaa is with Zayn?" She shrugs. "I mean, baby girl is out in Bradford with him now. You'd think those two were already married."

___

Zayn texts Luke.

He simply sends the "eyes" emoji because that would be enough to get the message across: where the fuck are you?

But after that momentary distraction, Zayn's mind leaves Phoenix again and goes straight back to Asmaa.

He's back feeling sick.

And now he's back to wondering.

He's wondering how he could have possibly fucked up so badly when just days before Asmaa had been grinding on his lap in his childhood bed and she had been kissing on him in a way that made him think she'd lied about never doing this before.

When they had first arrived in Bradford, when she first jumped in that night in his bedroom, he had stopped things. He didn't want things to go too far, because he didn't want some wine-induced temptation to be the reason she hated him later.

"She's a good one, Zayn."

"You have to hold onto girls like that."

His parents, his sisters, they loved her. And Zayn knew how he felt about Asmaa, but hearing those feelings be reinforced...it...it made him feel better than he could have imagined.

And it had been a few days, of him showing her around his hometown, of his parents doting on her, of his sisters dragging her on their shopping trips, and on their last night they had come back from a night out with his favorite cousin and the trip had nearly come to an end, when Asmaa found herself straddling his lap and Zayn reconsidering his initial decision.

She seemed very sure of herself.

She seemed very sure about wanting him.

And it's dark in his bedroom. His sisters and his parents have all gone off to sleep, and it's just the two of them, awake from their night out and this make-out session had turned into something he hadn't really wanted to stop.

He grips her ass, hands riding low on her hips. And his lips are on hers, both of them aggressive, both of them fighting for dominance in this kiss that ends with Asmaa gasping for breath as he nips at her bottom lip.

He breathes her in, humming; kissing along her jaw, down her neck.

She tugs at his hair, eyelids fluttering,  grinding harder against him as Zayn's lips and his tongue and his teeth all leave marks on her skin in ways she had never felt him do before now.

She moans.

"Babe," the sound brings him back to attention.

"Huh--Whoa...!" She exclaims as he flips them over, eyes growing wide before they close again as Zayn's lips press back to hers.

"Babe," he whispers, "my parents." He chuckles. "You trying to call my mum up here to watch?"

"Oh, goodness," her eyes grow wide again. "Sorry, sorry," she giggles softly, watching as Zayn's eyes narrow fondly. "Not trying to do that."

He had smiled at her, that lazy grin sending her stomach into a frenzy, "I know," he whispers.

And then his brow pinches again, "Asmaa, are you sure?"

"Sure about...?"

"This," he implored. "I told you, I wasn't going to rush anything, and if you're not--"

"Zayn," she matched his soft tone, "I wouldn't keep saying I was ready if I wasn't."

"I mean...you're su--"

"Zayn."

"Okay."

She perked. "Okay?"

"Okay."

And all of a sudden, he brightened.

"I've got an idea."

"Ooh," she giggled. "Ideas."

"Okay," he sighed, chuckling. "but if you make a sound, I'm stopping."

She pouted, "Huh?"

"Exactly," he replied, almost giddily. He'd made himself excited, "Now, hush."

And he felt for the button on her jeans.

Asmaa wearing nothing but panties on Zayn's childhood bed had him hard as shit.

"Zayn," she whispered impatiently, watching him through hazel eyes hooded in darkness as he walked her way with a condom, "what are you doing."

"I..." His quiet voice trailed off into silence.

He'd been standing, staring.

"I don't even fucking know, really."

She giggled softly, watching as he approached, pushing her legs apart and kneeling beside her. "You're so silly."

"You're like, so sexy," he whispered, and maybe it's his hushed tone that turns Asmaa on even more. "Like," he drops a kiss on her lips, "really."

His lips moved down her neck. "Zayn..."

"Shh," he whispered, pausing kisses on her collarbone. "We're playin' a game, okay?"

"A game?"

"And you've got to stay quiet," he grinned, "or I'll stop."

She nodded, her stomach turning, anticipation for this moment building excitedly.

She whispered, "Okay."

"Okay," Zayn repeated, his lips closing around her nipple, hand rubbing her stomach down to her panties.

Asmaa stifled moans.

She'd never done this; never gone this far with Zayn before, and her excitement was driven by the fact that she was screaming in her head, This is really happening.

And Zayn knew how important this moment was, not only for her, but for both of them. He wanted to make it special.

He hoped he was making it special.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple; he knew how sensitive she was there--he knew how much she liked that.

But on this night, Asmaa was trying not to scream out because Zayn had been sucking and licking along her breasts and his hand was rubbing circles through her panties and being quiet was so hard for her because she was seriously wanting to scream out.

Zayn hummed against her, enjoying the sound of her shortening breath and enjoying the sound of her sticky wetness as he rubbed at damp lace.

"Zayn," she grabbed his wrist as he continued to play with her folds through her panties, "Oh my god, oh my god I'm gonna--"

"Come?" He grinned, moving faster, applying more pressure. "Good," he stroked the condom down his shaft with his other hand, "Get used to the feeling."

Asmaa gasped, the response he gave seemingly orgasm-inducing, and as she came Zayn placed his lips back to hers, one hand gripped between her thighs, trapped between her soft warm skin as she jerked and twitched on the bed.

He chuckled, smiling against her lips as she rode out the orgasm, his hand trapped between her thighs.

When her shaking subsides, she stares at him with wide eyes that narrow seductively.

He grinned, "Hello, Starr."

She fought laughter. "No you did not," she whispered, "just call me my stripper name."

"I did," he laughed. "'Cause I don't know where my lawyer's gone."

"You're talking to the same girl, man."

"Am I?" And he fought a smile, biting on his lower lip as she nodded, "Open your legs for me."

She smiled, eyes narrowed; her gaze locked on his as she did, slowly.

Zayn knelt between them, Asmaa splayed before him.

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties.

"I'm taking these off, 'kay?"

She nodded. "'Kay."

He grinned at this response. Even tipsy and naked, Asmaa still managed to be adorable.

"Ready?"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Zayn. My goodness."

He grinned. "This might hurt a little, yeah?"

It hurt.

The pain wasn't excruciating, but just uncomfortable enough for Asmaa to take in a quick breath, shutting her eyes tight as Zayn pushed himself inside of her.

"Asmaa?"

His voice soft, barely above a whisper, the chain dangling around his neck tickling her collarbone.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, wanting to laugh.

"You're uh, you'd tell me if you weren't, right?"

"Yes, yes, my goodness," she grinned. "I'm fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Zayn," she whined. "Keep going."

He shifted his weight on his elbows, nodding as he rocked his hips.

It's uncomfortable for a moment, partially because the pressure he'd built up from their foreplay had her screaming for him to go faster, and partially because the anticipation of this moment had built so tremendously over the course of years that she almost never expected things to happen this way. She never expected to have a man inside of her that was not her husband; or for this man to have tattoos and be from Bradford and be half-Pakistani and be so hot and be able to sing. Asmaa never could have imagined that she would be underneath him on top of his childhood bed trying not to cry out as he worked his hips faster, as he grunted softly in her ear, as her mouth fell into an 'o,' sweat building along her hairline.

He slipped in and out, chest pressed to hers as he gripped her tight, his hand clasped over her mouth as she began to groan, her groans becoming moans as that discomfort became pleasurable; something shifting as she grew accustomed to the feeling; as she grew used to the feeling of Zayn against her, inside of her, and she desperately fought her desires to cry out.

It was hard playing this game.

Her voice is muffled against his palm, "Zayn..."

"Zayn?"

It's Harry again, his face illuminated by those low red lights.

"Yeah?"

It's Harry again, pulling him from his memories.

"Try to have fun," He says, hand on his shoulder, lips beside his ear--he can barely hear over the blaring music. "Tonight, at least. C'mon, mate," he claps him against his back, "Talk to her tomorrow."

It was the car ride.

It was the car ride that haunts him; that fuels his unease as he stands beside his friends at the strip club.

It was the car ride that has Asmaa so vividly replaying in his head.

He'd made it unscathed throughout the weekend with his parents and his cousins and his sisters and it was all on the way back...all as they returned to London, when everything went up in flames.

They'd been talking about Lou.

They'd been talking about the bachelor party.

"Have fun tonight," Asmaa had said about an hour outside of the city—this close to London. She'd woken up from one of those long naps with a bright smile he attributed to the night before. "Since...y'know," she grinned, "you promised."

"And tell me how that conversation goes," he quips, "since...y'know...you also promised."

She rolled her eyes and he had laughed. "I said I'd talk to my sister, and--"

"And?"

"And," she giggled, "I will. But, you?"

"I'm going to the party, Asmaa," he had huffed, and that only made his girlfriend lean towards him, her head in her hand, bright hazel eyes peering inquisitively up at him.

"But, you know," he licked his lips, a smile playing on the corner of his lips, "we could just like," he grinned, "have a night in again..." He took her hand in his, lifting her fingers to his lips, "yeah?"

She had giggled. "Nice try, Zayn."

He groaned. "Asmaa..."

"What happened to you two, Zayn?"

And this is when he fucked up.

"We just...we grew apart."

"Liar!"

"Asmaa," Zayn had laughed. "It's..It's complicated, babe."

"We have time, babe."

And so Zayn had sighed.

"He chose," he said. "He made his choice, and I...the lads and I, we weren't it."

He felt Asmaa's fingers through his.

"It..." He paused. "It hurt."

"What did?"

"The whole thing, honestly," he admitted. "The whole altercation. S'like we'd been growing apart--driven apart 'cause he'd met this girl and suddenly she was his whole fucking world. We didn't exist."

Asmaa stiffened against him. "A girl?"

"Walked into the club one night and walked out with a whole fucking girlfriend."

Asmaa blinked, as if she were in the process of deciphering a difficult math problem. "A girlfriend?"

He nodded, "A girlfriend. Walked in and practically threw enough notes to put a payment on a house, you think it's a coincidence she agreed to date him?"

"Zayn, but—"

"But? But, he'd just become part-owner of a club team. But, he'd finally reached the point in his career he'd been talking about since we were in uni. But he wanted to throw all of that away? But he wanted to throw all that away on a stripper? And then marriage? Really? After barely a year?"

He hadn't felt Asmaa stiffen against him. "And you...You said all this to him?"

"Me and some of the other lads," Zayn nodded. "And...as you probably have guessed, that shit didn't end well."

"I wonder why," she had snorted. "Since you're implying that this man's fiancée is a whole—"

"Gold-digger," Zayn spat, finishing the sentence. "A whole fucking gold-digger."

"Excuse me?"

"That's what happened," he gritted. "He walked into a strip club and--"

"Found a stripper," she interrupted, pulling her fingers from between his. "Yeah, yeah. I get it," and her eyes narrowed. "You forget you're dating a stripper, too? Or all of a sudden have I somehow become different?"

He blinked rapidly, suddenly confused. "You're not just a stripper--"

"And neither is she," she snapped. "Next."

"I mean," he blinked, "and, I'm just me. He's a fucking club owner, Asmaa, and—"

"So if you were the big producer already I'd be the golddigger, then," she nodded, folding her arms. "Got it. Good to know."

"Asmaa, whoa," Zayn's brow had instantly furrowed. "That's a hypothetical, babe. You know me with nothing. She met him with money, and a whole lot of it."

"And a choice," she quipped. "She also met him with his own free will 'cause he chose to walk his rich ass into a strip club and he chose to wait until she got off her shift to ask her out. Goodness—he chose to get down on one knee! Blaire didn't do that—any of it. He did."

"I mean, yeah...But—"

"But? There's no 'but,' Zayn. His money is hers because he wanted to share it with her," and Asmaa scowls viciously. "How hypocritical! I'm so sick of this double-standard! A woman chooses to be a stripper and all of a sudden she's a golddigger?" She laughed aloud, "Amazing!"

"Asmaa," he gaped. "I--"

"I won't even tell you about her investments, her savings..."

"She's got all that?"

She glared. "Does it matter? Would it change things for you, Zayn? Make it better somehow?"

"I'm not...I don't want you upset with me—"

"For what? Calling my friend a golddigger? I find out you had a full friendship ruined because you thought one of my friends was stealing from one of yours, and I'm not supposed to take that personally? I'm not supposed to be offended? Fuck that. Fuck all that shit."

"How amazing," she continued, as Zayn also continued to stare at her like she'd sprouted wings and a horn, "would it have been if you actually got to know her before jumping to conclusions? Maybe your friendship wouldn't have been strained if you didn't assume some shit about a sweet girl who happens to strip," and she grabs the handle of his door, "You ever fucking think of that?"

And she grabbed her shit, jumping out of his car, leaving Zayn to stare after her like he could not fucking believe what the hell just happened.

This hurt.

And the walk upstairs to the flat she shared with Rory seemed so long. It seemed too long, for Asmaa and her thoughts.

What did this mean for them, now? How could their relationship sustain itself when Zayn had been harboring such negative thoughts for one of her friends? How could they make things work if Phoenix and stripper left such a bad taste in his mouth--how could they both overlook the fact that both of things were also associated with her?

And Asmaa's exhausted by the time she gets upstairs. This was supposed to be a fun trip.

Too bad it had turned into a full-on huge fight with Zayn.

And of course Zayn didn't know this, but she had reached for her key and turned it in her door and sincerely prayed that Rory was home because she really needed to vent.

Asmaa pushed open her door, dragging her duffle bag inside, thankfully, to find her roommate pouring a glass of wine in the kitchen.

She looked up and her eyes brightened.

"My baby!" Rory threw open her arms. "She's finally home!"

Asmaa chuckled tiredly, walking into them.

"You ready to shake that ass tonight?"

"I'm ready to get drunk," she had laughed, because her coming home early for Zayn meant she also got to celebrate with Blaire. "And, wow," she sighed heavily against her, "do I have a story for you..."

"So do I, actually," she replied, stroking her hair. "But, thank god for this," she lifted the bottle of wine, "'cause--"

"What!? Is that Asmaa?"

Asmaa frowned instantly, voices trickling from the back of the apartment. "Rory, is that—"

Rory nods. And she pointed behind her. "Look who's here."

"Asmaa!"

And Asmaa turned, only to find herself enveloped in a hug, a huge hug, from her older sister.

___

Sorry this took me ages guys, but i'm back to updating all of my stories

This got nominated for a watty so i'm suuuuper excited (that's never happened to me before!)

Anyway, please comment and please vote because you know I live for both. :)

What y'all think is 'bout to happen next?