"I'm taking Imani to the doctor today," Justin explains as he trails Zayn into the office. "So, you can come with, or you gotta catch a ride home."

Zayn nods, tongue in cheek. He really did need to get his license.

"Look at you," he says, "being like, a real adult."

"Shut up."

Zayn grins. "It's fine," he nods. "I can get to my place," he says. "Thanks though, Dad."

"No prob," Justin grins. "Have a great day, son."

"Honestly, like," he nods, "just 'cause you said so, I think I will."

"Fuck you, Zayn."

He laughs.

Ironically, though, he is having a pretty good day.

And Zayn gets out of his afternoon meeting and nudges Liam.

"Hey, Li," he begins, "you think you could like, do me a favor."

"That like," he grins, "depends on what you're asking for, mate."

He pulls a face. "Ha ha. Was wondering if you could give me a ride after work, y'know," he says, "since Justin's got daddy duty."

"Sure. I'll take you home, then."

"Thanks, lad."

And Zayn's phone rings.

"You gonna answer that?"

"Uh..." Zayn pauses, looking up from the name and the picture flashing across his screen.

Liam gets a quick look at the caller. "You might as well answer it, Zayn."

He shakes his head. "I'm at work," he replies. "If it's important, she'll leave a message."

Liam only shrugs. "Suit yourself. So, anyway. We still meeting Jus for lunch? Let's find the food trucks, today--"

"Yeah, okay," Zayn replies absentmindedly, phone buzzing once in his hand. She left a message. "I'll uh..." He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the lobby, yeah?"

"Sure. Hey," Liam calls, "where're you going?"

"Go on without me," Zayn calls, backpedalling through the office. "I'll meet you downstairs."

He plays the message in his office.

The door is closed as he stands near the window. He stares down at the streets below, into the sunshine and across the city at the buildings and the palm trees as he presses 'play' and puts Zhuri's voice on speaker.

"Hi. Sorry, I know you're at work, but...I don't know. It's one of those days and it's weird 'cause I'd be texting you about...stuff, and I can't because we haven't been talking, but, I miss you. A lot...I hope you're doing well, though. You look like you are. Well, you looked like you were when Justin picked me up so...yeah. Anyway..."

And the message ends there.

Zayn doesn't listen to the message only once. He plays it back a few times. Quite a few, actually. Enough for the texts to start coming through from Justin and Liam asking 'where r u mate?' and telling him 'bro i'm starving lets go.'

He listens to the message through his headphones as he rides the elevator towards his friends.

"Where the fuck've you been?"

"Office," he replies simply, yanking out the white buds. "And about this ride," he addresses the two men before him, "Justin, you still picking Imani up from her place?"

_
The bell rings as Zhuri tidies the kitchen.

"I know it's my day for dishes, but," Imani had shrugged earlier, "y'know. I'm pregnant."

Zhuri was really pretty damn tired of that being her excuse.

The doorbell rings again.

"Can you get it?" Imani calls from her room. "It should be Justin!"

So, Zhuri hurries to the door, yanking it open with damp soapy hands from the dishes.

"Hey, Zhu."

"Hi...guys," she replies, as both Justin and Zayn step across the threshold and into her place. "I, uh..." She shakes her head. "Imani's getting ready."

"Cool," Justin nods. And he shoots a smile over his shoulder. "I've brought you company."

Zhuri frowns. "Me?"

"No, Imani," Justin replies. "Yes, you, babe."

"You brought Zayn to keep me company?"

"Something wrong with Zayn?"

"You tell me."

"I am right here, actually," he says as Justin laughs. "In case you've both forgotten."

"I know, I just--"

"Just? Just what, Zhuri?"

There's too much in his eyes. Too much beneath those caramel eyes. He's sporting that same expression he'd had when he told her Blake didn't love her. That he was using her. He's got that pointed stare and he's got his eyebrows pulled together and all Zhuri wanted was for things to go back to the way they'd been between them, and it really seemed like Zayn didn't fuck with her anymore.

So, why was he over today?

"I...Nothing," she shakes her head. It's because he can't drive, of course. "I'll be in the kitchen," she says, diverting her gaze from Zayn's stare.

"Whatcha doing," Justin sings.

"Dishes," she sings back, smiling for him.

"She's a saint, ain't she?" Asks Imani, as she makes her grand appearance into the living room.

"You, uh..." Justin's cheeks are pink all of a sudden. "You wearing that to the doctor, Mani?"

She looks down at her maxi dress, the fabric clinging to her curves. "My mama always dressed us up for the doctor, right Zuzie?"

"Mhm," she calls back.

Imani's pursed lipped look gets aimed at Justin. "Told ya. Why?" She punches his arm. "What's wrong with my dress?"

"Nothing, nothing," he says quickly. "I just," he shakes his head, "nothing. You ready?"

She hums, grabbing her purse. "You good with Zayn staying with you while we're gone, Zhu?"

"Yes, mama," she calls back. "I'll be fine."

And Imani sends her a wink. "Thought so."

Before Zhuri can respond to that, Imani has grabbed Justin's hand and tugged him out the door.

"See you!"

"Yeah. Okay, bye!"

And over the sound of her sponge against the pots, Zhuri can't hear the door click shut.

Or Zayn's footsteps into the kitchen.

"Need help?"

She jumps, clutching her chest. "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit outta me."

"Forgot I was here already?" He asks, mirthful glint in his eye. "You're slippin' Zhuri."

"I don't know if I'd say all that," she replies, dipping her hands back into the soapy water. "But, okay. Think that shit, anyway."

He laughs, grabbing for a towel. "Your accent comes out when you get all worked up, y'know."

"Unfortunately," she turns to him, "And really, Zayn. You don't have to help me with --"

"Why's that got to be a bad thing?" He asks, ignoring her as he reaches for damp dishes. "I like your accent."

"Because you're British. People here think southern accents make you sound dumb."

"I don't."

"Because you're British."

"I don't think it's like that, Zhuri."

She forces a wide smile with teeth. "We can agree to disagree."

He nods, eyes upon the dishes. "Wouldn't be the first time," and he clears his throat. "How's Blake?"

"Wouldn't know," she snorts. "Since he doesn't answer my calls, either."

"I do check my messages, though," he smirks. "I know you miss me," he lifts a brow, "Like, alot."

Zhuri pauses, and she's staring at the bubbles in the sink and Zayn is bracing himself for one of her smartass comments.

She lifts her eyes from the bubbles, and she nods, though.

She nods. "Yeah," she whispers. "A lot."

And he's on her in a heartbeat, setting the rag in his hand upon the counter and bringing his hands to her waist. Her eyes widen instinctively as he grips her hips and backs her against the sink and spins her around in his arms to face him.

"Say it again."

"What?" He can feel her heart beating against him. "Say what?"

"What you just fucking said, Zhu."

"I miss you?"

"Say it again."

"I miss yo--Why?" She demands at once. "You don't believe me or something?"

"No," he replies simply. "I don't. At all. Say it 'til I believe you."

She throws back her head, laughing shortly. "You're out of your fucking mind."

"That's you, Zhu."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"You like me," he states. "You care about me and won't admit it."

She grits her teeth, heat rising to her face as she thanks God for her melanin -- he can't see her blush. "This a fucking game to you, Zayn? Are my feelings some kinda joke?"

"You're finally sharing your feelings! You're not keepin' me in the dark, for once. Sounds like you're sharing you with me like," he pauses, "like I said. Like you care about me."

"I never said I didn't care about you."

"Oh, c'mon," he rolls his eyes. "Like, alright."

Zhuri's groan becomes a shrill scream. "I care about you, okay!"

Zayn blinks. "Say it nicer."

Zhuri rubs at her eyes with her forearm. "I'm sick of you, boy."

"Sick with love."

"Didn't say all that."

"Didn't have to," he drops his forehead to hers. "You've got feelings for me."

"I--"

He takes her bottom lip between his teeth. "We're actually friends, aren't we?"

"Friends," she swallows hard as he feels up her shirt. "Told you -- friends don't do this, Zayn."

"Honestly, I don't think you're in the best position to tell me what friends do, Zhu."

And Zhuri's eyes close and she moans as Zayn's hands grow warmer with slow, deliberate motion against her skin.

She's caving.

She's giving in to the feel she's missed of Zayn's hands upon her body, gripping her in places that her ex-boyfriend hadn't gripped in ages...And she's missed the sound of his voice and the way she's felt in his arms.

How weak are you, Zhuri? She thinks, because here she is, melting in Zayn's arms after he'd needed a break from her and her issues and her undetermined feelings.

"What do you want?" She sighs. "What do you want me to say?"

"You know what I want you to say," he growls beside her ear.

"What? You want me to tell you again that I care about you? You want me to admit to you that we're friends? That we're...we're more than friends?"

"Zhuri," his eyes shut, and he pulls back frustratedly. "You're so fucking anal and precise, like, 'friend' is a fucking placeholder! You called me today to say you miss me--"

"Yeah..."

"--You say you care about me..."

"Yeah..."

"So what the fuck are we doing?" He exclaims, voice loud in the small space. "Huh? You gonna tell me you love me next and run back off to your ex?"

"I'm..." She frowns, "I'm not talking to Blake."

"Right," he snorts. "Not now."

"What does this have to do with him, Zayn?" She cries. "Why does he always have to come up!?"

"Because!"

"Because, what?"

"Because I want--!" He yells, pausing before he can slip up and say this and have Zhuri's noncommittal ass running like she always does.

He looks into her wide-eyed stare and sighs. "I want you to try. For both of us."

"No," Zhuri laughs, exasperated. "No, you don't."

He scowls. "Don't tell me how I feel--"

"Zayn," she exclaims, "you'll only be pissed with me--"

"Why? Why, 'cause you'd rather be with Blake?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Because last time I checked, you didn't tell him you'd missed him, yeah? You didn't call him. You don't even want him like you want me--"

"Zayn!"

"--But still you think that..." He shakes his head, "honestly, Zhuri, I don't know what the fuck you think. I don't know what goes through your mind 'cause you don't let me in."

"I don't--I don't know. About anything," she exclaims. "My sister, my best friend, Zayn, is pregnant. Work is...ugh, and, and--" she stutters, "my life isn't how I fucking imagined it would be. It's so far from perfect, Zayn. You don't want--"

"Don't keep telling me what I want, Zhuri. Don't try to talk me out of this just 'cause letting me go is easier."

She looks away, and Zayn follows her downward gaze. He cups her jaw with his hand and tilts her head.

"Look," he continues, "not everything's gonna be how you want it to be, Zhu," he sighs. And he holds out his hands. "But, I'm here. I'm right here. And I want," he motions between them, "to work on this. Whatever this is."

"Why?" She challenges, "So you can get tired and leave me, again?"

"I didn't leave you," he exclaims. "I needed to know--"

"Know, what?"

"That you cared about me! Every time I think things are good with us you're the one who ends up running away from it. You keep leaving me."

Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," he says. "Now," he shakes his head, "now you see how it feels."

And Zhuri says two more words to add to the the collection of things he never expected to hear--not from her: "I'm sorry."
____

I'm pulling hard for them and I'm writing this lolz.

I think my update every day streak of this story has come to an end. I did want to give y'all enough chapters to read while I got into this, so I hope this is good. I'm gonna have to add this into the rotation of my other stories as I update them too. 😊

Comment and vote! xx