Marlboro Lights

If I had known Zayn would disappear unannounced for days on end more than once, I don't think I ever would have gotten involved with him. Life was just a tad easier when I wasn't pacing my apartment wondering why he hadn't shown up. Life was just a tad easier when I wasn't spending my free time stalking a police officer, dodging questions from my nosy father whose trust in me was fading.

Life was just a bit easier before Zayn.

And yet... every day that he wasn't at my door or in my store was another day I tossed and turned, eventually giving up on sleep and taking to my trusty coffee machine. Six days ago, Zayn promised to take me out. Five days ago, Zayn didn't show up. For the next four days, my town remained silent of the sound of his motorcycle. I knew he was working, whatever that meant, and while I'd experienced it before - this time was different. This time I was torn between worry and a bitter anger. The anger was winning.

I fully grasped the concept of Zayn having a job that took him away from extended periods of time, but I couldn't understand why it was so hard to pick up a phone and call to let me know he was still alive. And interested. Maybe that was it. Maybe I was pitifully insecure that Zayn wasn't really interested in me. Why else would he leave for so long and never contact me.

The worst part was that I was still looking into the sketchball officer, all because I was nervous that Zayn was in trouble with him. I was worried about Zayn and Zayn didn't seem too worried about me.

I felt bitter and pathetic and on the sixth night, I drank myself into docility.

I woke up three hours later than usual the next morning, and through a blinding headache, I stumbled into my kitchen to continue my daily diet of caffeine and bananas. For good measure, I knocked back three Excedrin Migraine pills and chugged a glass of water that re-hydrated the dormant alcohol in my system, making my head spin as I slowly made my way back into my living room.

I was settled into the couch before I noticed it.

To my left, just visible between the parted curtains, was Zayn's motorcycle. Something in my chest tightened and I was convinced my lungs were collapsing. I carefully set my mug of coffee down on the floor because the table was too far to reach, and I stood - smoothing out my hair and wiping under my eyes for any makeup that had smudged in the night (since I'd become too lazy to remove it before bed).

Looking through the squares of glass on my door, I peered out and around, searching for the head of jet black hair that would mean Zayn was out there somewhere waiting for me. My eyes were brought down to the ground where I was extremely surprised to see Zayn sitting, his knees up and one tattooed arm resting over them. His head was back, resting against the wall that went along the side of the building up the hill. His eyes were closed and for a moment I thought he might be asleep, but the arm not resting along his knees lifted and brought a cigarette to his lips. Eyes still closed, he took a long drag and slowly exhaled the smoke, his hand raising to push through his wild hair.

I'd had enough of standing on the other side of the door watching him with my mind soaring a mile a minute, so I opened it quite loudly and crossed my arms, staring down at him.

"Why are you sitting outside my door at nine in the morning?"

His eyes snapped open immediately and in an instant he was on his feet, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out under his tattered motorcycle boot.

"Jette..." he started, clearing his throat and stepping towards me.

Grumpy from my hangover, I took a noticeable step back and his face fell.

"I'm sorry, Jette, I got called out right after I left here the other night... there was nothing I could do." His voice was soft and... pleading. The tightness in my chest returned and I swallowed like I was forcing a rock down my throat.

I wanted to budge, to forgive him on site and jump into his arms, but I was notoriously stubborn when I was hungover and his impeccable face wasn't changing that. But still, I couldn't find the words to chastise him because really - I had no right to. He wasn't my boyfriend. We weren't even really dating. I was just a bored girl in a hardware store and he was a handsome stranger with a motorcycle.

"You should leave before my dad comes by. I ignored him all night, he'll probably be here any minute."

I was surprised at how much that had hurt to say, but even more surprised how badly it hurt to watch defeat flood Zayn's face. I felt even more pathetic and irrational in that moment than I ever had in my life.

"I was... hoping I could see you today. I'm uh..." he stopped short and laughed harshly, pushing his hand through his hair again. He looked up at me through thick eyelashes, his eyes tired and heavy.

"You're what?"

He sucked in a deep breath and puffed his chest out, "I have to leave tomorrow morning. For work."

In spite of myself, I laughed. I've never wanted to slam a door so badly as I did in that moment. I wanted nothing more than to not see him in that moment because he was here and asking to see me before he left and I wanted to kiss him so badly but I was so irrationally angry and my head was throbbing and I wasn't lying about my dad probably showing up any minute.

"Now's not a good time."

Zayn nodded slowly, but remained in place.

"Can I come back later?"

I clenched my jaw and dry swallowed, feeling like I was suffocating. I didn't answer. I just stared at him. He took the hint and nodded again, finally turning away from me but pausing halfway to his bike to turn back to me. "I'm sorry, Jette."

I closed the door.
And then I went back to sleep.
And I had dream after dream after dream of Zayn leaving and me waiting.

* * *
I awoke to the sound of someone banging on my front door, and when I checked the time - I found that I had slept most of the day away. It was mid-afternoon and whoever was knocking was not going away anytime soon. So I crawled out of my bed and repeated my actions from the morning of stumbling through my apartment blindly.

Thankfully, it wasn't Zayn.
Unfortunately, Zayn would have been easier to face.

"Afternoon, pops," I grunted in a lame greeting as I opened the door to silence his knocking.

"Store's closed... what the hell are you doing down here?" He barked, his voice entirely too loud for the headache that was returning to my temples. He let himself in, closing the door just a bit too loudly for my liking.

"I'm sick, sorry," I lied. Well, I didn't lie. I was sick. He just didn't need to know why.

"Why didn't you call?"

"Didn't want to worry you."

"And the store? We're losing customers."

"More than likely not, that place is quieter than this town."

"Jette! What's the deal with you?" He sort of sounded like a concerned father, but he mostly sounded like an angry cop. I wasn't in any position to deal with either.

"I'm sick, Dad. I'm sorry. I'll be better tomorrow."

"Is this about a boy?" He finally asked and I was genuinely surprised that he'd made it this long.

I didn't answer. I returned to my bed and pulled the blankets straight over my head. I waited for either the front door to close or for my bed to dip, and sure enough - the weight of a full grown man settled on the edge of my bed within a minute.

"Jette, darlin'... I don't want you to get hurt and I don't want to control your life. Just... be careful, kid. Maybe this guy isn't worth it."

The weight lifted from my bed but I remained hidden.

"Take the rest of the night off, but open the store tomorrow... please. I love you."

The sound of my front door closing followed and when I was sure he was gone, I pulled the covers down and sighed dramatically. I sent a text to my dad telling him I loved him and that I was sorry, and then I did what I really didn't want to do.

I got up. I showered. I forced down a sandwich that made me gag more than once, and then I downed my weight in water, trying to clear my body of the alcohol that was lingering in my bloodstream.

By the time I could turn my television on without the sound threatening to blow my skull up, the sun had set and I could hear the crickets kicking up outside. Black and white reruns played on mute in the background for nearly an hour while I sat and stared blankly at the wall.

Just as I was reaching for the remote to resume the volume, I heard it. Zayn's motorcycle was roaring down the street above me and it was getting louder with every second. I tried to stay calm but the louder the noise grew, the more anxious I was. I'd been thinking of this all day and I'd wasted so much energy hoping he would come back but dreading having to face him after I'd been so terrible to him.

The noise stopped and the light outside my front door disappeared. I was beginning to feel sick. The first knock came and I was glued to my seat. But the second knock came. And then the third. And before he could finish the fourth, I was opening the door.

"Jette, I'm sorry, I just--"

I cut him off by reaching up for him, bringing his face down to mine and capturing his lips in a hot kiss that I hoped would speak for me in apologizing for my terrible attitude.

By the way he instantly gripped my waist and backed me over the threshold of my door frame, throwing the door closed behind him, I'd say it was safe to assume the kiss was doing its job. I only took my hands away from his face to push the leather jacket off of him, my palms flat against his body as I slid it from his shoulders. It lay forgotten in front of my door as we moved further into my apartment.

Desperate to fill my burning lungs with air, I broke away from his lips, sucking in a long breath like I'd never tasted oxygen before. I our slight distance, I was finally able to take the sight of him in. Wearing a black tank top that hung low on his collarbones, I was hit with the reality of how tattooed he really was. Both of his arms were almost entirely covered in sleeves; there were twin skulls in the dips of his shoulders, and there were random text scrawls and tiny images along the parts of his chest that I could see.

I traced my fingers across the text that line his clavicle, "Is this Arabic?"

Zayn nodded as he watched my fingers dance across his chest, retracing the tiny writing.

"It means 'be true to who you are'," he told me, catching my hand and folding my fingers over his before kissing my knuckles softly. "I'm sorry, Jette. You deserve a lot better than me running off all the time."

I shook my head, my eyes fluttering as his warm lips grazed my skin.

"Don't apologize. I was insane, totally out of line," I mumbled, to which he replied with a mimic of my head shake before bringing my lips up to meet his.

He kissed me so hard that I forgot my name, even forgot his for a moment before it was slipping from my slips like a secret curse. I clung to him, stretching his tank top as I balled it in my fists. Really I just wanted it off him and gone, but I wasn't about to request that. Instead, I let my hands release his shirt and wander, pushing it up and I flattened my palms against his bare chest, feeling just how solid and warm he really was.

Without warning, he scooped me up and forced my legs around his waist. He moved through my apartment like someone who had never been past the front room, bumping into walls and door frames and jolting my body against him, but I had no complaints. He was still feverishly kissing me, drawing out every breath my lungs could produce and crushing them with his lips, his teeth pulling at my bottom lip and eliciting tiny but obscene moans that would have me blushing like a cherry any other time. But as he finally stumbled into my bedroom and carefully placed my back on the bed, hovering over me as he continued to kiss me silent, I only wanted more.

He shucked his tank top off in a split second, and when his lips busied themselves with peppering my throat with hot kisses, I busied myself by pressing a single kiss to the center of his chest where his collarbones met. His skin was flushed and almost burned to touch, but I couldn't keep my hands off of him.

Somewhere in the heat of stolen kisses and bruised lips, my shirt disappeared and Zayn's rough hands were cascading down my bare chest, leaving a fiery trail behind them. He reached the band of my tied pants and his fingers faltered. He looked to me through hooded eyes and wordlessly requested permission to continue. I nodded.

He kissed a thank-you to my mouth, then pulled a condom from somewhere unseen and held it between his teeth in the most sensual way possible as he removed his black jeans, then mine. His length sprang free from his pants and I was speechless. He was so large and hard and I did that... and as he rolled the condom on smoothly, I reached out for him, my fingers sliding down him then back up, causing him to twitch and release a guttural moan that I felt all the way down to my toes.

As Zayn's naked body hovered over mine, his hair falling in my face as mine splayed out around my shoulders, I realized that I had underestimated just how broad he was. He shrouded me with his shoulders and I pushed my hands over them, tracing his tattoos as I went. The heat between my legs matched the need between his and when he nudged my legs apart, his hand snaking between us to ready himself, my eyes closed in desperate anticipation. I was surprised when he ran his thumb down the moisture between my legs, sending a hot wave of need through my body. I had no time to react because in one smooth movement, he was pushing inside of me and my back was arching as I struggled to accommodate his size and the white hot desire of the moment.

I gasped out as he made his first move, a deep thrust that rocked my hips into the sheets. While one hand braced his body and held him safely above me, his other hand slid along my neck, pushing into my hair as he lowered his mouth to my jaw, kissing up it until he reached my ear.

Moving impossibly slow; Zayn filled me completely, his hips pushing against my thighs, the resistance pulling at the coil tightening in my lower abdomen. He pulled out ever so slightly and pushed back even deeper, forcing my legs further apart, giving them no place to go but around his waist, crossing at the ankle for the needed support.

I stammered out his name once or twice, gasping as he sucked bruises just under my ear. The hand holding him up moved to catch mine digging into his shoulders, our fingers intertwined as he supported his weight over my body with his hips, pressing into me so hard that I could feel him. He pushed my arm over my head and took the proximity as a chance to crush my lips under his.

His pace quickened and I shuddered under him, dangerously close to the edge already. I whined his name against his lips and he silenced me with another kiss, all heat and teeth. All at once, his slow and gentle pace disappeared. His hips ground into me at a frenzied pace, and I felt the coil in my stomach reaching a breaking point. Like he had been reading my mind - or body, even - Zayn snuck the hand in my hair between us and pressing the length of his hand against my lower stomach, sliding the callused pad of his thumb down my swollen heat, causing me to flinch in surprise. He matched my movement with a particularly deep thrust, then slid his thumb down one more time. On the very edge of losing it, he just barely re-positioned himself, giving his hand between us more room. He pressed down with his thumb, attacking the over-sensitive nerves as he rubbed hard circles. I was pushed over the edge and gasping his name; his thrusts coming in short bursts as he came with me, losing his rhythm as our bodies slowly and eventually stopped.

Clenched around him and all but panting, I whimpered as he tried to move, every nerve in my body in hyper drive. "Zayn," I whispered, my voice broken and breathless. He nosed my chin up and kissed down my throat, using my distracted state to slide out of me. I felt so empty without him and I really didn't want him to leave, but he excused himself to clean up with a peck on my lips and when he returned, he kissed up to my mouth from my hips. I wrapped myself around him instantly and pulled him down to me.

We didn't say much, but somewhere between his kisses along my chest to the soft tug of teeth on my throat, I fell into a hot sleep, bone tired from exertion and wrought with pleasure. I was vaguely aware of Zayn leaving sometime before the sun rose, as he kissed my mouth and face repeatedly, whispering my name in his husky accent. He told me he would be back, and then the warmth was gone from my bed. I woke hours later with a longing deep in my chest and a heat spreading through my entire body.

Beside my head was a note in Zayn's untidy scrawl.

Jette,
I'll be thinking about you every minute I'm gone.
See you soon.
- Z

He called me later that day. While I was sitting at the counter of the hardware store, ringing up a regular and wishing the day would end. I answered the phone expecting my father or a telemarketer, and got Zayn's low accent instead. My heart skipped a beat and I dropped the customers change, but excused myself and stood with my back to the wall of the back storage room.

"Thought you'd appreciate a courtesy call," he said over a loud background noise that I couldn't identify. "I can't talk long, but I haven't forgotten about you."

After burying my hot face in my free hand, I sighed into the phone. "Come back soon," is all I said before he chuckled softly and told me he had to go. I let him without complaint, because in the end - all I needed was a bit of recognition.

Notes

=D Please let me know what you think!

Tomorrow will be the last update until I write a new chapter!

Hope you've enjoyed it!

xx Katie