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im sure u will 😳💦
word count: 8039

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when we collide
39|cinq jours de paris air

“God I'm out of paid leaves, Crys.”

“I thought marriage is included in paid leave?”

“Marriage does but not a week of holiday in Paris!”

“You mean. . . honeymoon?”

Zayn feels his cheeks warm up, instantly dropping the box of clothes he was carrying to stand up hitting his head on the open window pane in progress.

“Holy fú– frick!”  he yells, brushing his head as he falls back on the ground. Crystal is quick to rush out of the window door haphazardly, a wet cloth in her hand.

“Jesus what did you do?”

She rolls her eyes when Zayn continues to whine in pain as he lies on the ground holding his head.

“God, I hate this fuc—”  he stops, noticing Crystal aim the water spray at him.

“Yeah, fine no cursing. I might be dying due to blood clotting but I'll make sure I don't say the f word and censor it with frick because my family made me marry a nun—  Crys!”   he shrieks when a spray of water hits him on the face.

“Your quota for cursing everyday is three times, you've used it. I'm not going to sit on my àss till I groom you a little.”  Crystal states, walking back with the spray and cloth.

“Bítch.”  Zayn mumbles.

“That's the fourth word!”

“Shut up!”

He's quick to get on his feet and enter his home, not before slamming the window close and putting a mental reminder in his brain to drill the bloody thing close.

“Can I clean the countertops?”

“Don't you dare enter the kitchen, Zayn. I mean it.”  Crystal threatens, rubbing the cloth around the center table as she eyes Zayn.

“Fine, I'll just—”

“Do the laundry.”  Crystal states bored.

“What– Why always me?! Why do I get all the annoying work?!”

“Shoo off, Malik.”

“Crystal, this is unfair. I demand a lawyer.”

“Don't forget to remove the white ones before washing, babe.”

“Don't 'babe' me.”  Zayn hisses before sauntering upstairs.

Crystal tries to hide her smile as she stands up, shaking her head in amusement. It had been three days since they had come back. The quietness didn't sit with her well in comparison to the familiarity of commotion that Bradford had for a week.

God, did she miss her family.

It was funny how her father called every night to get updates and then she'd show him what all she had cooked. While according to everyone she had entered the next stage of womanhood she was sure her father still believed her to be his little daughter.

That could be told by the adoration with which he eyed her raspberry muffins.

While coming back felt good, she had gotten used to the feeling on London, the dusty wreck of a house wasn't what she called home in London so after the three days that Zayn somehow managed to force procrastination on the cleaning passed away, all it required was a little threatening of 'cook your own food' and 'iron your own clothes' for him to turn into submissive Zayn.

And then, in the morning her father had called about how both their families had piled in money for a little honeymoon getaway and that was all it took for her to freak out.

Then watching Zayn freak out, well, freaked her out more.

Zayn? Honeymoon? Paris?

She'd never imagined in her wildest dreams that those three words would be in the same sentence in all her living years on earth.

But, then she realised.

What was she waiting for? Twelve years until Zayn realises that he might feel something deeper for her? Was she waiting for a miracle to happen to her? No. If she really wanted to have her happy story she had to make sure Zayn wasn't stuck on the interval when she was on the end credits.
There's only one thing that happens after end credits.

People leave.

She sure as héll wasn't planning to.

How difficult is it to make someone fall in love with you anyway?

Someone sane? Easy.

Someone shy? A little difficult.

Zayn Malik who is your best friend and the world's biggest goofball who won't admit his feelings, has the oscar for overthinking, emotionally unstable and likes living in the past to feel safe?

Uh. . . not so easy.

Crystal strolls to Zayn's art shed in the backyard and starts dusting around, she shoves the brushes in a bundle and starts washing off the dots of colour on them before her eyes fall on something.

A big cardboard box in a corner which definitely had to be heavier than it appeared.

She walks towards it in curiosity, pulling it straight from its leaning position to realise how it reaches her chest. Is this a canvas?

She notices a small paper folded in a ball in the corner and picks it up.

Zayn Malik.
ADD, Board of Directors.

Thank you for your immense dedication and hard work to help this company rise. We like to make sure all our employees know how special they are to us.

Congratulations on your new journey and your twenty seventh birthday. We wish you a happy life and more years of success with us.

Team Artsy Enterprises.

“Zayn?”  she calls out, obviously being unheard so she's quick to pick up the parcel realising it's slightly heavy just as she anticipated and rushes in with the parcel, closing the shed door with her foot.

Keeping down the parcel on the floor her curiosity is followed by cringe when she notices a layer of dust transfer on the floor.

The floor Zayn just wiped.

“Did you call me?”  she hears his voice making her look up at his frame holding a basket of dirty clothes collected from rooms as he eyes her.

“Uh yeah,”  she replies stepping on the dirt.

“What's this?”

Zayn drops the basket down in the hall and walks to the parcel eyeing it before he's struck with realisation.

“Oh right, some parcel that is obviously delivered late. I think it's a congratulatory gift for the promotion, birthday and wedding combined. Scrooge fúcks.”

“The letter was cute. When did this come?”

“Uh- the night before I had to leave I reckon. I didn't get the time to open it then.”

“Let's open it!”  Crystal cheers with a smile, marching to the kitchen to grab a knife making Zayn roll his eyes in amusement.

“You're a kid.”

Crystal comes back with the knife and starts cutting the tape on the corners.

“Careful about your finger, jaan.”

“I am, jaan.”

Zayn looks up immediately eyeing Crystal weirdly. She didn't seem bothered as she tried to hold the parcel between her legs to keep it stable and squeeze the knife in the cardboard.

Did she just. . . call him-

. . . jaan?

It sounded so different from her mouth that Zayn almost clenches his mouth to stop himself from saying something dumb.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who's affected by that nickname.”

Zayn looks up to notice Crystal smiling as she tears apart the first layer of bubble wrap.

“I wasn't affected at all.”

“Oh, I guess then I won't use it.”

“What? No—”  Zayn slams his mouth close, almost rolling his eyes into another dimension.

He'd give it tops a second, if god doesn't engulf him in the depths of hell by then, he's going to make a runner.

Crystal chuckles “Are you blush—”

“The frigging laundry awaits me!” Crystal holds the knife down, watching Zayn make a runner to the door grabbing the basket and rushing to the backyard, a pair of socks and Crystal's shorts falling out on the floor in the process.

Was it working? Maybe being bold was all it took. Just press the right buttons and maybe Zayn would–

God it wasn't easy though.

She'd almost choked on her saliva and had to hide her face with her now brownish-blonde locks to hide the blush and clogged voice to mutter back a small 'jaan'

But, the test was a pass.

Not like she lied if she followed his definition.

Zayn was. . . jaan.

Removing the last covering Crystal realises it's a large photo frame making her bite her lip in curiosity, she slowly turns the large frame, being careful with the fragile object but her eyes almost pop out of her sockets when she stares at the picture.

Holy. Crap.

She sits down on her knees, placing the frame carefully so it leans with the wall and stares at it. Her eyes flying across the picture in admiration.

She stares at a picture of Zayn and her from the office party, the one they had clicked on the entrance with that obnoxious photographer. Her dress was reflecting some of the light and she was staring at Zayn.

God her side profile had never looked this good. Ever.

She notices Zayn's hand softly placed on her waist as he stares at the camera with a small smile.

God, even in a picture she couldn't help but stare at him.

She remembers how they were in a fight and after fifteen cries from the photographer 'to get closer' Zayn had circled his arm around her waist and posed a smile.

God, the shot was magnificent.

“Okay, laundry is in the machine. What's next on agenda instead of taking a bath?”

She looks up to notice Zayn by the door, seeming collected as he stares at her.

“Look.”

He walks closer to eye the painting making him gasp.

“Oh. . . Wow. I didn't expect that.”

“It's from the party.”

“I could tell.”  he whispers.

“We should put it up somewhere where we can look at it.”

“Yeah, maybe in the kitchen so next time you scream at me you can look up and see this Crystal admiring Zayn.”

“Well you admire everything that you l—”  Crystal coughs a bit, her meter of boldness blasting off.

“Like y'know.”

What did Crystal have to lose anyway? Not like Zayn could run away from her.

Or. . . Could he. It's Zayn she's talking about.

“That's sweet coming from you.”  Zayn mumbles with a smile.

“I'm confused as to why I'm not looking at you. You see I have a great eye for beautiful things.”

Crystal bites her lip to stop a small smile appear on her lips.

“Mhm, understandable that I'm not looking at you.”

Crystal rolls her eyes as Zayn chuckles, throwing his arm around her. Obviously.

༻❁༺

“Sir would you like to have anything?”  Crystal turns back to eye the air hostess who was back at their seat for the third time in a span of half an hour.

“No, thank you.”

Zayn didn't even press the bell thing.
She feels her stomach almost erupt in flames.

“Can I get a glass of water? I really need to cool down a bit.”  she asks with a smile.

The air hostess looks up from Zayn, passing a smile to her as she nods.

“Should I bring something for you too sir?”

“Do you have kleenex by any chance?”

The air hostess looks up again, staring at Crystal passing her the most pseudo smile. She feels her stomach wobble in awkwardness.

“Uh— no, miss. Why?”

“To clean his wedding ring.”

Zayn stares down at the magazine awkwardly, staring at the price of the chicken sandwich he was three seconds away from ordering. What the heck is going on?

“Uh—”

“Water?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Crystal falls down on her seat, squishing her face in the seat.

“You're scary y'know?”

“And you're good looking. Tone it down maybe?”

“Jealous?”

“Jealous? More like annoyed when every chick that exists wants to gawk at you.”  she hisses making Zayn chuckle as he closes the magazine and puts it in the book slot.

“Jealousy doesn't suit you.”

“Yeah, I'm sure the train guy said the same when you mocked him.”

“Oh, please.”  Zayn rolls his eyes.
“He was a douché.”

“And who decided that? Zayn Malik X-ray personality scanners and co?”

Zayn stick out his tongue in response before he leans to look down the corridor.

“Dámn, I really wanted that sandwich.”

“You want to order?”  Crystal asks in a scarily low voice, making Zayn look up at her challenging voice and pass an uneasy smile.

“Who? Me? No. Who even likes flight food? Not me.”

Crystal chuckles, slowly dropping her head on his shoulder “Good.”

Zayn smiles in response as he looks back at the screen to watch Brad Pitt fight zombies.

“I hate flights.”  Crystal mumbles in his shoulder.

“We could've taken a train but our families suddenly decided to shower off all their savings. Not my mistake.”

“I want to sleep.”

“Yeah, these dim lights don't help the feeling of lethargy.”

Zayn eyes almost everyone he possibly could from his seat passed out on any shoulder or place they could possibly find. The sky outside was dark as he check his watch.

9:30 p.m.

They had another hour before they landed.

“You want to sleep?”  Crystal nods weakly in reply.

Zayn removes his earphones as he pulls up the arm rest between them, then slides his arm across her shoulder and pulls her down on his lap. “Sleep then.”

Crystal smiles a little before she moves her head to find a comfortable position in his laps.

“Zayn?”

“Why do you always have to talk around sleeping?”  Zayn asks sarcastically as he removes one of his earplugs.

“What's the first thing you'll do when we reach Paris?”

He proceeds to remove the second one too, pretty sure by now that Crystal would pull this conversation till they land.

“Uh–  Have a croissant? I don't know.”

“You pronounced it wrong.”

“Sorry, Madamme.”

“That too.”

Zayn sighs, looking down at Crystal who has her head in his laps, her face titled the slightest to meet his eyes in amusement.

“I'm not the one who took French additional in highschool.”

“I might flirt with cute French dudes and you won't even know.”

“I'll flirt in English with the same French dudes and then let's see who wins.”

“Narcissistic prude.”

Crystal chuckles slowly in response but both their eyes turn to the corner seat where the man coughed a second back eyeing them with frustrated eyes as his sleeping mask covers one of his eyes.

Zayn awkwardly mutters a sorry, making the man go back to sleep.

“See, I'm the only one who tolerates your absurd habit of conversations before or around sleeping.”  Zayn whispers, close to her ear.

Crystal signs him to come closer, making him lean a little. She moves her lips close to his ear.

“That's why I married you and not him.”

Zayn smiles a little pulling himself straight on his seat. He rolls his eyes playfully before he glances at the man again.

With that receding hairline and jerky old-man attitude, Zayn's pretty sure Crystal would've married him instead of this grumpy man even if Zayn was a wanted criminal.

“I think I'll sleep now.”

“Hallelujah! I'll wake you up when we land.”

“Wake me up if that air hostess shows up too.”  Crystal mumbles in a fake threatening voice, trying to bite off the smile on her face.

She feels Zayn clench her shoulder.

“Nah, she's not worth disturbing you. Sleep off, bimbo.”

“Zayn?”  Crystal whispers, making him look down at her in annoyance.

She passes a shy smile before signalling him to lean close. He leans close positioning his ear closer to her lips but she's quick to hold his face between her hands and turn it.

Before Zayn realises he feels the softness of her lips brush against his and press slowly on his. Even before he can respond she pushes his face slowly with a smile.

“Goodnight, Zed.”

Right as she tilts her face away from his, adjusting her head in his lap into a comfortable position Zayn's left to contemplation as his fingertips slowly brush his lips in hesitance.

What was it exactly that left him in a trance? That nickname he's never heard anyone call him or the softness of her lips that was so unexpected and sudden yet he could feel his heart radiating in acceptance.

God, when did he start getting so affected by a kiss?

What the héll was it?

Was it a. . . goodnight kiss? like married couples do?

Was he supposed to do it back?

He fixes his earphones again, trying to control the rage of emotions in his head and rather tries focusing his energy on Brad Pitt, who was still stuck at the same place fighting the same zombies but Zayn's life had changed so much.

Apparently he was getting good night kisses now.

God, if it was so easy, he'll never sleep before her. Ridiculously impossible for him but then making a move first was humanly impossible for him.

Why the héll is he complicating things anyway?

Zayn sighs in defeat.

Even though he tries ignoring it to fit his act of a man instead of a fourteen year old girl with her jock crush, he feels his hand brush his lips once in a while and his masculinity zip line out of the plane window.

༻❁༺

“Je pense qu'il ne parle pas français?”

“I'm telling you for the fifth time, I'm not ill.”

“Zayn, Jesus I told you he's not saying you're ill! Il with a single 'l' it-it means. . . just take it as a pronoun.”

“God, can't he just speak English?”

“You're the one who wanted to live the whole tourist experience and go to the resident counter!”

“Uh— Excuse me, Miss?”

Crystal and Zayn break out of their glare to stare at a man standing beside the helpless looking taxi driver clad in a huge blue jacket, beanie and dancing around his mid thirties.

“Are you. . . Mister and Misses Malik by any chance?”

“No— oh no wait now we are—”

“Yes, we are.”  Crystal interrupts Zayn with an eye roll.

“Wait. . . How do you?”

“Well you're the last ones to show up. Welcome to Paris, we are delightful to have you here in our service. Hope you enjoy your honeymoon!”

Crystal grabs Zayn's hand making him look up at her once he's able to break out of the creeped out stare-down he was busy in with the stranger.

“Let's whoosh off before he takes out his dagger and shoves it up your âss.”  Crystal whispers in his ear.

“May I know. . . who you are?”  Zayn asks hesitantly.

“Porcs illettrés.”  the taxi driver states in the background, rolling his eyes before he slams his door close and drives off.

“He just called us—”

“Right, I'm so sorry. How unprofessional of me. I'll introduce myself properly!”

༻❁༺

“But Zayn, sweetie, we thought it'd be a fun experience and for you people to have an actual guide—”

“Mum it's not a guide you booked us with a group! Do you understand?! There are four more couples. . . God all of them are in their thirties or fiftees!”  Crystal whines, staring at the laptop in annoyance.

“But-but we thought that having more couples around you—”

“Cecile it was supposed to be a trip not pilgrimage!”  Zayn whines next, leaning on the sofa as he stares at the laptop screen.

“But—”

“Honestly, it was less expensive for them.”

“Jack! Shut up! It wasn't.”

Zayn rolls his eyes before he walks to their hotel bed and falls on it in defeat.

“Agh- I can't take it, shut em' off already.”

Ten minutes down the clock Crystal closes the laptop and sighs.

“

Can I curse?”

“Yes, please.”

“What the héll?”

“That stinking pig gave us a planner. . . a planner. Why the héll are we going to see a museum on the first day that too in the morning in a bus with all those couples.”

“Stop cribbing, Zayn.”  Crystal groans.

“But I'm annoyed!”

“So am I!”  she falls beside Zayn on the bed as her head bounces on the soft bedding.

Both their feet touch the floor as they stare at the ceiling.

“What now? Do you want to go with the plan?”

“I mean. . . they paid for it.”  Crystal mumbles in response.

“Right.”  Zayn sighs.

Lying limp on the bed for fifteen minutes Crystal realises she's had enough of this bull crap.

“Zayn!”

He gasps in response, his eyes opening with a tint of shock.

“Woah—”

“Enough! We're going out.”

“Crys, it's night time and apparently we've to wake up early tomorrow and see a museum with old—”

Zayn stops, staring at Crystal staring at him with soft eyes. He gulps, his eyes looking to their left before contacting hers again.

“. . . What?”

“Are you happy being here with me?”

Zayn furrows his brow, sitting up straight and staring at her.

“Why are you asking that?”

“Just answer.”

Zayn almost feels thrown off guard when he meets Crystal's strong eyes eyeing his slow movement.

“Obviously, I am.”  he replies.

“Are you?”

“Till the time you're with me, place and people don't matter to me, Zed.”

Zayn licks his lower lip, before looking down at his hands. He feels a sudden rush of warmth fill his abdomen making him smile.

“Sometimes I feel we're opposites, sometimes I feel you're way too good for me and I'll end up hurting you but then sometimes you hurt me too and I feel if it's—”

Zayn falls on the bed with the weight of Crystal's embrace, his hands lying on the bed limp as he stares at the ceiling.

“I love you, Zayn.”

Zayn brings his arm to slowly hold her close even though he feels the air being knocked out of him slowly with Crystal's body on him.

“Love you too, idiot.”

Crystal looks up, lifting her head from his chest to stare at him. Zayn shakes his head a little to remove her hair from his face.

“Crys- I— are you about to cry?”

“No.”  she mumbles with a chuckle as she sniffs.

She's quick to look at him with a smile. “I'm good. I'm an idiot I just—”

She feels her lips stop when Zayn presses his lips on hers slowly, her eyes fluttering close as he slowly sucks on her lip.

“Let's wear some robes and go sit outside.”  Zayn whispers against her lips making her give out a breathy chuckle. Her lips still fluttering with the feel of his.

“It's freezing.”

“The pool water is warm, at least that's what the stingy planners' notes say and even if it isn't who cares, we'll be together and that's all that matters. Right?”

She nods furiously with a smile, making Zayn smile automatically in response.

༻❁༺

“Sometimes it's weird to think that you find so much more in the moon than I can.”  Crystal lifts up her head from his shoulder, unlocking her arms that were tied around Zayn's before she smiles.

“What do you mean?”

“You look at the moon as something that's so beautiful, something appreciable, something magnificent, something so-so out of this world, no pun intended.”  Zayn smiles.

“All I see is a white circle in a blanket of darkness. Do you think it's a flaw in the blanket and people just assume it's something beautiful because it's the only thing full of light within the darkness?”

Crystal stares at the lake in front of her, flowing slowly as if the wind was directing it's flow.

A lake few miles away from the hotel was way better than a pool anyway.

She smiles realising how she's really never felt more at peace than now.

“Maybe the blanket tattered due to some reason and the moon is just a beautiful addition to hide that flaw. Almost like suing a patch of cloth to hide it just like vagabonds do with their clothes? To hold the blanket together so that it doesn't tatter more from that scar? How does that sound?”

Zayn chuckles, rotating his wedding ring around his finger deep in thought.

“Maybe I'm the sky and you're the moon then.”

Crystal glances in his direction, noticing the corners of his lips lifted slightly that it could almost go unnoticeable had she not been sitting so close to him.

“You see without the sky the moon doesn't have much of an existence. It's holding the tattered blanket of sky because it gives the moon's existence a meaning, a reason to stick around, a place where they know they're appreciated. The sky makes the moon forget all the craters presuming her flaws and that confidence is what makes it so presentable in front of all the people that admire the moon instead of the dark sky just because it's the only source of light.”

Zayn stares at the lake in thought.

Why was it always that whenever he spotted a flaw somehow Crystal would place some sort of uno reverse on him. Typical best friend.

He feels his heart warm up again.

“We've barely seen anything except this lake and this hotel but,” Crystal chuckles.

“Paris is beautiful, Zayn.”

Crystal smiles, clasping her arms around Zayn's before putting her head on his shoulder. Zayn turns his head slowly in response to glance at her face, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Is it okay if I find you more beautiful?”

He notices Crystal's lips move up in a shy smile making him look at the lake before he rests his head on hers.

“Thank you for being in my lif—”

“Can I—”

Zayn passes a low chuckle as Crystal fumbles with her hands.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Forget it.”  Zayn replies.

“Say it.”  Crystal eggs on.

“You didn't reply to my compliment.”

Crystal shrugs, sitting up straight as she moves her legs in the air, staring down at the lake. Her legs flapping like a newborn bird's first flight.

“It's just cheesy. I'm not as beautiful as this sky or this lake or The Eiffel Tower or. . . You.”

“Yeah, because you're more.”

“Zayn. Just tell me what you were about to say.”

“You don't know because you don't look at yourself like I do or else you'd notice. . . like you're glistening golden eyes or you're ruby red lips or your turmerish pink cheeks or your roasted coffee and pincata yellow mix hair—”

“Looks like Mister artist likes reading the Dulex Colour Chart Phamplet in his free time.”

“Gosh, fúck you Crystal. You know what? I'm going to keep on complimenting you till the time you accept them and be confident that they're true.”

“You were saying?”  she ignores.

“I was asking if I can kiss you, twat.”
Zayn replies groggily.

“You can. You don't have to ask every time. I'm your wife now.”  Crystal replies with a smile.

“Wife or not, it's not bad to ask.”  Zayn smiles before leaning in enough to throw Crystal off guard as her wide eyes stare in his when his nose slowly brushes her.

“And. . . Thank you for being in my life.”

༻❁༺

“It was so silent I could almost hear my will to live flying out of my body.”
Zayn chuckles.

He swallows down a mouthful of Alfredo Pasta as he slides a bit more onto his fork completely oblivious to his silent and unresponsive wife.

Crystal feels her brain gears churning as the magazine a fellow couple was carrying comes to her mind.

'Seventeen positions to drive him wild'

“Oh! Do you want it?” the lady standing in front of her asks.

“W-What? No! No I'm good.”  she chuckles awkwardly.

“Right, newly married?”

“Yes.”  she smiles politely.

“Then what's your work at a museum on your first day. Leave this stupid planner away, honey. You see, Parker and I didn't even leave the room the first couple of days on our honeymoon.”  the woman giggles

“If you know what I mean.”  she winks.

“Uhm.”

“You know men. Sex is what keeps them alive.”

“Oxygen—”

“They'll be mad in love with you, putty in your hands. Intimacy is so important.”

“Love?”

“Yes, you see we were in a very worked up position but I think intimacy made us so much more closer.”  she giggles.

“Here keep it, you look like you need it. How's your husband in bed?”

“Excuse me—”

“Crystal, I'm going to go smoke.”

“Mhm.”

Zayn raises his brow as he stares at his woman unresponsive, staring directly at his empty wine glass in a trance.

“Hey Crys, do you not want to drink? that's fine by me.”

“Seventeen positions.”

“. . . What?”

Crystal breaks out of her trance, her eyes turn to meet Zayn's who stares at her as if she's layered in an inch thick clown makeup.

She might as well be.

“Uh— sorry I'm kinda out of it.”

God, she couldn't stop thinking of that magazine in her bag. Why did she take it? Did she want to—

“Do you want to rest? Are you tired?”

“No I'm good really, don't worry.”  she replies with a smile.

“It's okay. We can go up and rest, jaan.”

Go up and be alone.

Seventeen pos—

“Crystal?”

“Yes!”  Zayn gasps in shock making her cheeks turn red or. . . was it turmerish red he said?

God, can she stop thinking about him for a second?

She feels her toes curl in embarrassment as she looks down at her hands toying with each other, holding her bag to her stomach.

“Waiter? Hey, Can I get the bill?”

“Sure, Monsieur.”

“Zayn, No! You don't have to ruin—”

Zayn places his hand on hers making her stomach rush into a mushy state.

Seventeen position? When she can barely adjust to his hand on hers?

Seventeen positions to turn him wild when his hand was enough to turn her wild.

“Here, Monsieur. Your bill is seventeen—”

“I'm in the room, Zayn!”

The waiter and Zayn eye Crystal as she flushes red, grasping her bag and making a runner.

“Wait we'll—”  Zayn stops.

“. . . Eat ice-cream.”

Fixing the bill, Zayn passes a polite smile to the waiter before he stands up to walk to their room. Not before, Frank, the man who interrupted them at the airport and as per Zayn's unfortunate life was their nosy obnoxious guide reminded him to be ready for The Eiffel Tower tomorrow.

As if he hadn't forced everyone to read that dámn to-do list for the day seventeen times till Zayn wished he didn't know the alphabet so he could find escapism to this toddler torture.

Why was Crystal acting this way?

Zayn ponders silently as he decides to take the stairs to buy his brain a little time to overthink.

Was he doing something wrong? He was being sweet, saying cheesy lines and trying to keep her comfortable.

God, what was he doing wrong? Isn't that how a husband should be?

He remembers the morning vividly because he saw Crystal naked for the first time. Well if catching someone change into new clothes and then both the parties freaking out counts as something.

Zayn bites his lip slowly.

Even a second of a glance at her body and he could tell God definitely took his time to sculpt her into something so beautiful.

He feels his inside almost burst with fireworks.

God really handed his best masterpiece to him.

Standing before the door he takes a deep breath before opening it with the pass card and closing it.

He looks around to realise Crystal presence probably be in the washroom. Sighing he falls on the bed to take a deep breath. He notices her clothes spread on the bed realising she went to change so he gets up picking up her clothes one by one and throwing them on the side chair which was meant to sit on.

A sound breaks his task of lifting the blanket. He realises him aiming Crystal's jacket on the chair made her bag fall down. Sighing he rolls his eyes.

Maybe God wasn't that happy that he had his masterpiece.

Getting up with a huff he picks up Crystal's phone that fell out of her slightly open bag throwing the jacket on the chair and unzipping the bag completely to throw her phone inside knowing very well their annoying parents would call anytime.

But, a magazine catches his eyes.

Furrowing his brows he tries to pull out the magazine that was forcefully placed inside with the contents.

'Seventeen positions to drive him wild'

“What the—”  Zayn hears the door open and his soul leave his body.
He thrusts the magazine inside, zipping her bag and throwing it on the chair before yeeting towards his bed and diving on the bed.

He hears Crystal's steps walk around the room.

“I'm sorry I left you hanging there.”

Crystal wants to have séx with him? That's all?

Wait. . . Crystal wants to have séx with him?

“Zayn?”

“Positions?”

“. . . Excuse me, W-what?”

“What?”

“You-you said Positions?”

“You said seventeen of them.”

Crystal and Zayn enter a stare-down before Crystal turns around, drying her hair with a towel and stares outside the window to avoid his heavy gaze on her back.

Did the lady give him one t—

“Crystal?”

“Yes?”  she breathes out, side glancing at his reflection in the window pane.

His translucent reflection moving his hand to itch the back of his neck as he looks down momentarily before looking up.

“Do you– do you want to?”

“W-what?”  she asks with wide eyes.

She hears him sigh.

“That magazine, Crystal.”

Crystal quits acting like she's busy with drying her hair by this point, her hands limp by her side holding the towel loosely.

“T-The shower is free, you can go—”

She feels his warmth colliding with her back, his presence too heavy and empowering for her making her turn instantly to collide with his chest.

“Zayn—”

“Breathe Crystal, I won't hurt you. I'm-I'm just asking what you want.”

She feels her fingers knotting, toying with each other as her knees fumble a little almost feeling her body be too heavy to be held. Topping this, Zayn trapping her between his arms and the wall wasn't helping.

She feels his hand rest on her waist making her look up as he slowly slides it under her shirt, brushing his finger across her back like a paintbrush on a canvas, ironically.

“Do you like that?”

“Zayn I—”

“Do you know this Crys, you make me feel something so huge I almost fail to shelter that feeling inside me.”

“What do you feel?”  she whispers, her eyes dancing across Zayn's face which slowly closes in, leaving a last inch between them.

“I can't word it.”

“Oh.”

“You don't need a magazine to turn me wild, Crystal.”

She looks up, her hands shifting to hold Zayn's arm, his fingers still busy in drawing patterns across her back.

“Zayn I—”

“Mhm, I'm listening.”

“I'm really not worth it.”

Zayn opens his eyes distancing a bit till his nose still brushes her subtly as he stares at her tightly closed eyes.

“What?”

“I-I'm not that sexy or hot. I-I'm plain and well and y'know. . . taped too.”

“Crys—”

Her hands fly up to his chest, slowly pushing him back as she tries walking away but fails when Zayn's hand curls around her wrist to pull her right back to where she stood, if possible, closer.

“I don't want sexy, Crys. I-I want you. Do you want me?”

“Zayn, don't you get it? Seventeen positions? Hell I'd try fifty and you'd still get someone who's way better than me. More sexy, more feminine, more. . . Do-able.”

Zayn eyes Crystal in awe, his brows furrowed in shock.

“Crystal. . . Who the héll has all that crap fixed in your brain?”

“No one has to, I know.”

“Crys, I really like you. I'm falling for you and I'm happier than I've ever been. You're the best person in my life and it hurts me when you say stuff like this. About yourself.”

She's quick to push Zayn away as she jogs to the door.

“Crystal, for heaven's sake stop running away from your baggage.”

“I'm sorry. I'm–”  she takes in a deep breath. “I gotta go.”

“Crys, please listen—”

“No.”

“I won't hurt you, just please trust me.”

“It's not you—”

“Crys, why don't you trust—”

“I've to go.”

“Damn it, Crystal!”

She slams the door, making a runner to the swimming pool. Taking a moment to catch her breath she groans loudly, her head falling on her hands as she massages her temple.

What did she just do?

'I'm falling for you'

'I won't hurt you'

'Why don't you trust me'

She notices the cell phone she had picked in haste realising it's Zayn's and not hers.

That miraculously manages to frustrate her more.

A groan escapes her mouth again.

Why did she always have to ruin it for them. How the héll was she supposed to face him now?

He made a move, for them. He made a move.

She slowly reaches the outdoor pool realising it's closed making her release a sigh of relief. At least she won't have to face anyone. She falls down beside the pool, crossing her legs and staring at the water moving a little rhythmically with the night wind.

“The pool is closed.”

A gasp escapes her mouth as she turns around to meet the eyes of a young man, holding a net and a box in his hand. . . definitely not in the best moods.

“I know, I'm just chilling here.”

“Alone? By the pool? At night?”

“I get it, I'm weird. Can you do your job?”

Making a face the man tries so hard to cover, he walks to the pool end starting to lift his net and dip it in the pool.

“So? Your boyfriend dumped you in the hotel room after breakup séx?”

“Sorry? Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah. . . unless there's casper the ghost here.”

“Didn't know Paris Hotels have such rude staff.”

The man chuckles, lifting his net and dumping whatever strays he's able to catch in the box.

“There's no fish in here.”

“Thank you for bringing it to my attention loner girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“So? I don't generally have company at my night shifts since couples are busy with theirs.”

Crystal almost pukes.

“Yeah, I'm unemployed.”  Crystal mutters.

“So he did dump you?”

Crystal cringes, crossing her arms around her legs and resting her head on her knees for comfort.

“It's. . . complicated.”

“Well I got all the time. . . till I'm done cleaning this pool obviously.”

“I'm. . . in love with my best friend and—”

“Let me make a wild guess which I'm pretty sure is so difficult. . . He's not?”

By this time the man dumps his box of garbage and net by the pool and sits beside Crystal leaving a respectful gap.

“Yeah. . . I guess.”

“You're married with the ring I spot but you're in love with your best friend?”  he asks confused.

“I mean, I married him.”

“What? How the héll isn't he in love then?”

“Arranged Marriage.”

“I thought we left that in fifteenth century Europe.”

“I did too.”

The golden haired man shuffles his hair back before chuckling.

“Is this your honeymoon?”

“. . . Yeah.”

“And you're sitting here alone in the night by a dirty pool talking to the cleaner? I feel bad for the man.”

Crystal looks up with her narrowed eyes spot on the man's face.

“I'll have to get you fired.”

“Jesus, don't shoot the messenger.”

With a smile she stares back at the pool.

“I don't get it. . . you're in love with your best friend who's your husband gifted to you through an arranged marriage and now you're on a honeymoon but you're sitting here alone.”

“We were about to. . . do it.”

“. . . Congratulations. So. . . ?”

“But I don't know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know.”  Crystal whines.

“Do you want to?”

Crystal bites her lower lip.
“Y-Yes.”

“And the situation presented itself?”

“Yes?”

“So what did you do?”

“I. . . Kinda ran out.”

“. . . Pardon?”

“I don't know.”  she groans.

“What do you mean you ran out?”

“I-I don't know, I just got scared I guess. I'm not used to this, I'm not used to feeling things for him, god, I'm not used to having this weird feeling when I look at his morning face and he said he's falling for me—”

“You ran out from the possible situation of having séx with the man you love who's your husband that you apparently love gifted to you through an arranged marriage—”

“Jesus, can you stop with that monologue everytime I get it I'm stupid.”

“No, you're an imbecile but I doubt you can spell that so let's stick with stupid.”

Crystal looks up at him in annoyance, staring at the man's face that passes a neutral look before he shrugs.

“I mean, if I was the guy I'd be pretty angry and would probably leave.”

“W-What?”

“I mean I'd feel that I made you uncomfortable in some way or just y'know if a girl literally yeets out of the room when you make a move you kind of second guess everything and you said he confessed to you so I'm pretty sure by now he's second guessing it all.”

“W-What?”

“He's probably catching a taxi is what.”

“But it's so complicated—”

“Honestly Blonde Girl, I feel you're the one complicating it. Like you want shít to happen then go and just do it. I don't get this whole sitting by the pool with the cleaner avoiding your best friend husband gifted to you by—”

“Y-you're right.”

“Mhm.”

A silence welcomes the environment for a couple of minutes.

“Well then go get him, unless he's not catching a taxi.”

“No. . . No I hope not.”

“Well then. . . All the best.”

“Yes!”  she stands up with a smile.

“Protection is must by the way.”

Crystal turns back, eyeing the man in annoyance.

“What's your name?”

“I'd tell you but I'm sure you'd get me fired so.”

That makes her smile.

“Well, I'd just call you golden d-bag then. Thank you so much for the power boost!”

Standing up and picking his box of garbage and net the green eyed man eyes Crystal in confusion.

Crystal catches the lift and ends up in a sprint when she reaches their floor but all it takes for her feminine boost up to wash out is the room number eyeing her down aggressively.

She stares at the knob of the door, her hand hesitantly reaching out the knob.

No more complicating stuff.

No more. . . what ifs.

She slowly opens the door, closing it behind her to not make it creak. Her heart drops a second later though when she stares at the empty room.

Taxi?

She hesitantly walks in the room looking around but the sound of the shower is caught red handed by her ears. Ever so slowly she walks to the door, her feet having a mind of it's own. Taking in a deep breath she tries her luck by twisting the knob to realise it's surprisingly open.

With a much needed breath she enters the bathroom, the mist and humidity of the hot water hitting her instantly. She finds Zayn by the shower, clad in only his jeans as he shifts the knobs of the shower and raises his hand under the water to check every other second.

“Zayn?”

Zayn turns around with the speed of a light stream, eyeing Crystal up and down before he looks back.

“Yeah?”

“Uh. . . Hey.”

Zayn sighs in response before turning around. “You done with your bítch-fist I see. What is it now then?”

“Are you. . . showering?”

“What does it look like?”

“Well. . . Can I join?”

Zayn turns around with his brows furrowed almost getting hit with deja vu from their first night together in London and how she'd randomly asked if they could cuddle.

God, why did she have to be so spontaneous?

“Let me warn you, you're irking me in the baddest ways a woman can irk a man you get it?”

“Not really.”  she replies before licking her lower lip and discarding her shirt in the process.

Zayn stares at Crystal's face as she walks closer, throwing her arms around Zayn's neck.

“Are you. . . Really falling for me?”  she whisper asks, hesitantly.

“Helplessly,” he passes a dry chuckle as his arms go down to cross around Crystal's bare waist pulling her closer.

“I remember practising how to ask you out in the mirror just in my boxers.”

“Really?”  she chuckles slowly.

She's absurdly replied with a silence as Zayn stares in her eyes. Crystal feels her cheeks warming and a clot of butterflies unleash in her abdomen when Zayn leans in a little. Crystal's quick to take two steps forward with a slight push, making both of them fall under the shower instantly rinsing off their lowers. Crystal feels her pants and her bra stick tightly to her skin as her hair descends down quickly to stick to her neck.

And suddenly while they stare at each other under the pouring hot water, Zayn decides he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted more, He wanted more than just kisses and light touching of arm, innocent hugs and timely flirting. He wanted to touch her lips, every part of hers. He wanted to be spontaneous. Her hair was calling for his hand and he wanted to know how the adrenaline in her body and the electricity between his fingers would collide when he'd brush them through her hair.

God, he wanted to pull her so close that she'd fail to find any doors to run away from him. Ever.

“Will you kiss me?”  he whisper-asks slowly, his hands resting on her waist as he pulls her closer in a knock, her chest collides with his and her hands fly down from his neck to hold his shoulders, feeling the water flow down through the cracks and moulds of his skin, maybe that was all it took for Zayn to break her walls.

So she does.

____

majorly i feel like cranking zayn w a hammer so hard he locates his brain

but the sometimes i realise i wanna slap some sense into crystal instead.

honestly both of them are dumb like just kiss make up say ily and fo
but no, we stan complicating stuff😤✊🏻

whoever says that^
(i hope u have to marry your best best friend under sudden conditions while both of u are dealing with past traumas and toxic exes and an overly intruding family😘)

anyway.

LISTEN i debated long enough about this, do i rly want my virgín kiddies to read disgusting cringy smút written by their getting action in a blue moon or never author?

then i decided, fúck it let's just roll w it.

so here it is: TW; next chapter contains sexual content which im sure would be cringy to read and if you're not comfortable try skipping thru some paragraphs to find where the fickle fackle ends so you nuns can continue 😍🙏🏻

next update comes soon btw!

ALSO, if you're not aware, my new book is already out called 'The One Never Seen' which hasn't officially started bec i wanna focus on finishing WWC but go add it to your library and reading lists! Y'all don't want to miss THAT book gosh I've sm decided for it and WELL.

here's a little character mood board of Zayn and the female protagonist Myla (played by Lily)

trust me, you WONT like the prologue there too.

ive got some issues with prologues.

...

prologue i heard? not much far babies 😳

anyway, FYI your author passed highschool FREAKIN FINALLY with a 93.5 percentile (kinda shitty eh) SO be ready w your holy water and thirsty throat for the next chapter it's halfway done anyway. love u loads everyone 😘 byebye💋