Partition

Solo Zayn (Pillow Talkin Touring)

Do I look okay?" you ask your friend, YFN, for the seventh time since she arrived at your apartment.

"Jesus, UN, you look perfect! Now can we go? You know how I like to get to concerts early."

You nod and grab your cross body bag off your bed, following YFN out the door. The two of you hail and cab and hop in, "Barclay's Center, please."

A half hour later, thanks to the traffic, the two of you pull up in front of the venue. You've been to this place at least half a dozen times, but tonight is special. Zayn, the daddy of all daddy's, is performing his first solo show. You were so hyped, that both you and YFN stood home from work the day the tickets went on sale, constantly refreshing TicketStub on both of your phones and laptops. The mission worked, and you were lucky enough to secure two, third row seats in the middle of the stage.

"I can't breathe," you state as the two of you take your seats and survey the view, "I'm so close. Shake me please."

Rolling her eyes and placing a hand on each of your shoulders, YFN gently shakes you before announcing that she's going to get drinks. Pulling out some money from your purse to give her, she swats away your hand away and retreats back to the vendors posted outside of each section.

The view of the stage is perfect; from where you are; you have a clear view of every angle of the stage. It's set up with one drum set, and a microphone stand. YFN quickly returns, handing you a strawberry margarita, which you thankfully accept. As you take your first sip, the arena goes dark. Slowly, the lights turn back on to reveal Zayn standing in a single spotlight. The fans surrounding you go crazy, and YFN is screaming at him and pointing to you. She's nuts.

An hour into the show, which is going phenomenally, two stagehands walk out carrying a black leather lounge chair. Setting it perfectly in the middle of the stage, the spotlight follows Zayn to the couch, when he places his microphone. Smirking, he removes his sweat-soaked white t, revealing a perfect form. Intricate tattoos don his body, and you feel your eyes glower at the pair of pink-lips inked in the middle of his chest. He needs to have that removed or covered.

Bringing the microphone back up to his lips, he speaks, and the crowd goes silent. "I'm sure some of you have heard about my other shows and know the meaning behind this lounge right here." He says, sitting down and the crowd whistles and cries. You've heard about what goes on at his shows, and you can feel your womanhood starting to burn with desire. He continues, "let me see, who's going to be the lucky lady tonight?" He gets up and walks back to the front of the stage, eyes scanning the crowd.

His eyes meet yours and now you're locked in a stare. YFN is shaking you, and screaming that he has to pick you or so help her God, she'll "fling this one onto the stage." Zayn looks at her once and nods, then walks back to a security guard, who proceeds to speak to someone through his walkie-talkie. Seconds later, a guard approaches you and your knees feel weak. This isn't real. YFN starts to jump up and down with excitement, clapping her hands and announcing to everyone to record this because you just might die.

Guiding you by your arm, the guard brings you to the stage. You're shaking, but something about the way Zayn grabs you hands and guides you toward the lounge instantly calms you. Zayn gently lays you down, your eyes staying focused on his the entire time. Up this close and personal, you're absolutely in awe. Pictures and videos do not do this man justice; you've never quite seen something so perfectly sculpted.

"You alright?" He whispers in your ear as he readjust the pillow by your head. You nod, for a moment forgetting that you're in front of tens of thousands of people. "Good."

Zayn quickly jogs to the side of the stage to switch to a headset mic. He starts singing his newest song, something not on the record. It screams sex and your ladybits start to quiver as his approaches you.

Hovering over you, he gently glides his hand up and down your side. The sheer fabric covering your body rides up, revealing artwork of your own inked into your skin. His eyes undress you, you can tell. That's soon followed by his hands, running along your thighs. Keeping himself propped up by kneeling between your legs, he dips his head down, his lips barely grazing your neck. The warm air being released as he speaks is enough to make you want to pull on his hair. But you restrain yourself, instead running one hand gently through his pushed back locks. You quickly look back out at the stage and find YFN, who has a smile plastered from ear to ear recording the whole thing; and good thing, too. There's no doubt that tomorrow you might think this was all a dream.

Grabbing each hip with your hands, he switches positions with you. You're body is now pressed firmly on his, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say his member was growing with excitement. You use this thought to your advantage, and gently grind your hips into him. His eyes close and for a second his breath hitches in his throat- silence momentarily escaping him. The crowd starts going crazy again, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The song comes to an end and the crowd continues to cheer. It takes both you and Zayn a moment to compose yourselves and even longer for you to come back down from Cloud Nine. Zayn pulls you in a for a hug before you are whisked by security back to your seat.

YFN immediately starts laughing as soon as she sees you, "Oh my GOD, YN. I have the entire thing on video. I am dead for you, how are you walking? I cannot believe. Holy sh- how was it?"
"No words."

The two of you share a laugh as Zayn heads to the back for a clothing change. He comes back out and sings about four more songs, two of which are covers of well respected R&B singers. He says his thanks and wishes everyone a good night as the crown starts to file out, section by section. YFN and yourself are about to file out when you feel a hand on your shoulder. It's the guard from earlier, and you raise an eyebrow at YFN before doing the same to the guard.

"From Mr. Malik." He simply states and hands you a piece of paper before sulking back to his post. You turn towards YFN again, confusion evident in your expression. She nudges you, encouraging you to open it and the both of your gasp as the contents of the folded up note is revealed.

Let's finish what we started. The Gansevoort Hotel, room 704.