Stretched out in his spot on the concrete step, with a book in his lap and his black hair spilling over his furrowed brow, is Zayn.
“Something wrong?” I ask with a smile as I approach, my eyes grazing over the complex anatomy book he’s poring over. “Don’t tell me you actually find somethinghard.”
His head snaps up and I’m met with his striking eyes. They look lighter today, the sunshine making their usual black more like the colour of espresso.
“I find lots of things hard. Until I figure them out.” He slams the book shut and tosses it to the side, then stands to meet me. “And nothing can be wrong when you’re here.”
He gives me one of his rare smiles, my favourite one. The one wide enough that his dimples come out. Daniel’s words from earlier flash into my mind, and I can’t help but think to myselfthere is no better gift in this whole world than being the one responsible for that smile.
Bending down, Zayn’s lips meet mine. “Happy birthday, baby,” he murmurs before he kisses me.
I wrap my hands around his neck as his find my hips, drawing me closer until I’m pressed up against him. Whenhe deepens the kiss, forcing my lips open with his, so many things happen inside my body at once.
My heart skyrockets. My fingers tingle like they suddenly have the ability to conduct electricity. I feel breathless as his tongue slides against mine.
We haven’t taken it further than a kiss yet, but I want to. I haven’t said it in so many words, but the way I press my body up against his now is confession enough.
A deep groan escapes from Zayn’s throat and he gently pulls away, running a hand through his unruly hair. I stand panting before him, not even bothering to blush. I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s getting to the point where if Zayn doesn’t touch me somewhere, anywhere, soon, I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“I got you something,” he says, clearing his throat and changing the subject from the unspoken words between us. Shaking his head as if physically clearing his thoughts, he reaches down for a present I hadn’t noticed until now.
He hands me the perfectly wrapped box, complete with a pink bow on top. This, combined with my reaction from the kiss, makes me so overcome with emotion that I embarrassingly, without warning, start to cry.
“Zayn! You didn’t have to get me anything!”
I clutch the gift in one hand and swipe at my tears with the other. The last thing I expected was for Zayn to spend his money on me when he so desperately needs it to take care of himself.
“Of course I did, you’re my girlfriend.” He grins, helping me wipe my tears away with his fingers. “If you could stop crying every time something nice happens that would also be great, thanks,” he says, assessing my face, “you’re going to give me a complex.”
“I’m just so happy.Youmake me so happy. I only ever cry happy tears when you’re here.”
I sit down and place the gift on my lap, already ripping off the paper by the time Zayn takes a seat beside me. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m excited that Zayn picked something out for me himself. The gesture makes me feel special.
My chin falls to the ground when the last of the paper comes away.
“You got me a kindle!” I squeal, my hands flying over my mouth. “Oh my God, Zayn! How?”
Zayn has the biggest smile ever plastered across his face. The sight is breathtaking.
“How?” He laughs, the throaty sound striking me right in the chest. “I went to the shop and bought it?”
“You know what I mean!” I try to rebuke him, but my delight at the gift is overriding anything else. “These are so expensive! You could have bought yourself a phone with that money!”
His smile drops slightly and he leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. He looks sideways at me. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? Zayn! I love it!”
“Then it was worth every penny.”
I swipe at the fresh wave of tears running down my cheeks. “Thank you.”
I kiss him on the cheek and continue thanking him until he laughs and brushes me off. “What else did you get? And how were your pancakes this morning?”
I answer him distractedly, too focused on my new kindle to think about much else as I unbox the sleek black gadget. A while later, before the lunch bell is due to go off, I slip my present into my bag and turn to face Zayn, who’s telling meabout his meeting with the school guidance counsellor. Of course after looking at his grades, the counsellor told him he could be anything he wanted to be. He’s considering medicine. That’s as far as he gets before I stop listening to what he’s saying and get lost in the vision of him sitting here, in our favourite spot, on my birthday. His black hair glossy in the sunlight, his smooth forearms resting along his thighs as he talks uncharacteristically animatedly about his plans for the future.
In this moment, there’s one thing I know for certain. Zayn is my future.
And tonight, I’m going to show him.
