slow it down // zayn malik

chapter thirteen // adjustments.

linley's pov

Zayn and I walk down the dirt road, leading us far away from our friends and the safety of our campsite. I try to focus on the task at hand - the incredibly difficult one - but my brain is far more interested in focusing on the fact that Zayn's fingers are still gently wrapped around my arm. 

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, checking to see if he even realizes what he's doing. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he concentrates incredibly hard on a solution to our problem. As we walk past people, their eyes go straight to our connected hands, then they travel back to us, giving us a knowing smile.

My cheeks flare a deep scarlet red as I watch several different people do the same exact thing, misinterpreting the entire story behind Zayn and I. 

There is no story behind us; that's the point.

"Zayn, you don't have to hold on to me, I can't go anywhere," I tell him, wriggling my arm slightly to break free from his grip.

His eyes widen as he looks down at what his right hand had been doing. His hand lets go of my arm as if it were some creature of the night. His cheeks splash a humorous color of red, causing a smile to appear on my lips. 

"I didn't..." He trails off, his words becoming mush, as he looks away, obviously trying to hide his embarrassed little blush. I chuckle a bit, turning my face away from him so he can't hear.

The two of us avoid one another's eyes as we enter into the festival grounds once again. Contrasting to the bustle of last night's concerts and parties, it's much more calm and mellow. People wander around, groggy and half-asleep as they try to energize with cups of coffee before going hard again later tonight. 

Going to festivals like these aren't easy; it's a lifestyle. My first festival nearly killed me. Being a girl who likes to be clean and likes to sleep on her own time, it was a struggle. 

I'm appreciative of the relaxed demeanor of the grounds as we wander through the trickling groups of people. My head still thumps against my skull, punishing me for my decision to pour a ridiculous amount of liquor into my body. 

"So where should we even start?" I ask as we pass stands and stands of people selling breakfast foods and coffee, all smelling absolutely delicious.

In the distance, just on the horizon I catch glimpse of the silhouette of the carnival. I don't remember seeing it last night. My eyebrows furrow together as I try to figure out how in the hell they managed to set up an entire carnival without my knowledge. 

"You said your manager is here, right?" Zayn finally speaks up, pulling my attention from the tallest structure of the carnival; the ferris wheel. 

My thoughts go back to last night when Sable and Andi had returned from looking for help, informing me that Nathan - someone we can always depend on - decided to catch up with old friends from school instead. 

"Somewhere around here," I nod, my lips turning down into a frown as I look around the incredibly large event that is Ragstock Music Festival. It's going to be literally impossible to find anyone in this place. 

Zayn chews on his bottom lip - a habit of his, I've picked up on - as he goes into a concentrated thought. 

"You try calling him as we look around in the different tents," He suggests to me, speaking softly in a polite tone, rather than the demanding, barking tone we tend to use with one another. 

I think I prefer the snappy tone to this gentle one; it makes me feel uneasy. 

Nodding, I fish my phone out of my jacket pocket, thankful that it didn't fall out when I was in a rather intoxicated state last night. I can't even count the number of times Sable and I have lost our phones during our drunken adventures.