Icarus | Z.M.

29 | Burn

Victoria Tomlinson

I didn't think I was going to be able to sleep last night. Given the sole reason I had gone through to the living room in the first place was because I was wide awake. And on top of that, I had expected myself to overthink everything that had just happened on the balcony.

But I slept.

Slept like I was dead.

Zayn had walked me back to the bedroom, holding onto my elbow and arm given my legs didn't stop shaking for what felt like hours. My legs were jelly, and I couldn't walk. I got into bed and was asleep within probably about thirty seconds.

And it was the best sleep I'd had in months.

My body must have just been so exhausted, and I had finally caught up on all the sleep I needed.

I woke to the sound of deep rumbling snoring coming from beside me, and when I finally had the energy to open my eyes that felt like they were glued shut by sleepiness, I reached out my hand to give Cujo a gentle pat.

It couldn't be too late, because if it got past eleven Cujo would have woken me up so I could give him his breakfast. But given he was still peacefully asleep, he couldn't be too hungry.

I was running my hand down his back when he grumbled and stretched his legs out. His eyes opened and I could feel his body shaking when his tail began to wag.

"Cujo." I muttered, rubbing the sleepiness away from my eyes before laying flat on my back, staring up at the plain ceiling above me. "I've fucked up again."

I glanced beside me, and he was just staring at me. His eyes narrowed and his bottom lip pouted out. He looked so disappointed in me.

"Don't look at me like that," I glared back at him.

He let out a disappointed huff.

"It's his hair... his eyes," I tried to defend what I had done, running a hand over my face, "And its fucking annoying."

I couldn't even blame myself. He was fucking attractive, and it was fucking annoying. And something about him, as much as he was an asshole ninety seven percent of the time. It was the three percent of the time that had me making stupid decisions.

I knew there was something charming, something to admire about him under the cold and arrogant personality he put on show. It was like he had me wrapped around his finger without even trying. I got completely hypnotised by his eyes and threw every rational thought out of my head as soon as he was close to me.

"His stupid fucking face is so annoyingly attractive." I complained, pulling down the sheets to climb off the bed so I could actually get up and eat something. Cujo was still heavily judging me when I added, "It's like I was possessed or something."

He just stared at me.

"Stop judging me." I glared at him again. But he didn't stop. "If you keep looking at me like that, I won't give you a single treat today."

He let out a grumpy sounding huff and closed his eyes again, going back to sleep.

"That's what I thought." I murmured under my breath.

I reached down to the floor and grabbed a hoodie that had just been dumped there yesterday, throwing it over the shirt I had on since it was pretty cold inside the apartment. I'd changed the shorts I had worn last night too and slipped on a pair of fluffy socks to keep my feet warm.

My hair was a mess, and I could feel it, but I was too hungry to care about my appearance.

When I opened the bedroom door to go into the hallway, the first thing I noticed was the smell, something was cooking.