Holding On

ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

🌼Ｅｍ ｍａ🌼

Flimsy dust float as I tool my car down the dirt way. Excitement and nervousness mingle in the pit of my belly.

I spent the whole night berating myself for letting Zain intimidate me. But not anymore. I'm so done being a coward, backing down from confrontations when my emotions get too tough on me. It's time I stood tall and fought for what I want.

And I want no one else but Zain.

On reaching the location, I step on the brakes and scrutinize the house for confirmation. It's just like Kevin described to me on the phone: cozy and painted in yellow with tones of green dazzling through it.

It's one of Zain's two houses, this one situated on the outskirts of LA. Wooden stairs lead up to a just big enough porch with wooden railings. At the right corner and secured to thick posts is a net hammock, large enough to contain two people at once.

I get out of the car, leaving my belongings as I make my way toward the door, feeling more nervous with every step. God, I hope I arrived before Zain.

I reach for the doorbell and press it, waiting a few seconds before pressing again. When I press a third time and nobody answers, I sigh with relief. Waiting for Zain is far better than him slamming the door in my face.

Reaching for the large net hammock, I lie in it, forcing myself to relax. I know Zain isn't going to be happy to see me here but it is something I'm ready to risk.

I breathe the crisp, cool air, knowing I have an assortment of models who would be more than willing to take Zain's place. Maybe that would be a better choice, especially with how Zain almost melted my senses with his kiss last night.

My fingers find my lips, caressing them as the memory of the scorching kiss runs through my mind. It's not the first Zain has kissed me. Last night's kiss just felt different. Better.

Maybe it is my urge to try now, as compared to my cowardice two years ago.

I wince. Back when I'd been afraid of the things Zain made me feel, I'd done my best to push him away.

What I did to finally get him to back off was the final straw. My heart bleeds whenever I remember the look on his face on that day, the tears shimmering in his eyes.

It's haunted me since we parted ways. Yet I convinced myself that it was for the best. Now I realize I was nothing but a coward. I haven't even had the guts to apologize to Zain or bring it up, afraid it's only going to spite him more.

Maybe that's why he refuses to even work with me; because he resents me after what I did to him and wants nothing to do with me.

But that's why I'm here. To change his mind, make him see that I'm sorry about what I did to him, and show him that I'm ready now to take a risk with him.

The sudden screeching of car tyres interrupts my thoughts. Opening my eyes, I find my already dust-covered Rolls-Royce surrounded by a billow of dust. Beside it is Zain's convertible Mercedes-Benz, Zain behind the wheel.

His fingers are tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, staring at my car in shock. The shock remains on his face as he shifts his eyes to me.

Zain's expression suddenly changes from shock to anger. He seems to drag in a deep breath as the car begins to close up. He then slides from the driver’s side of the car.

He opens one of the backseat doors and grabs two white polythene bags together with a laptop bag before heading toward me.

No one has to tell me the man is furious. I can tell from how rapidly his jaw seems to be working and the dark look on his face.