heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter seven

"Please don't be in love with someone else,

Please don't have somebody waiting on you."

- Taylor Swift [Enchanted]

 "Zayn, Marge says if you're not up in ten minutes, she's going to whack you with- What's this?" 

Jack's voice cut through the stillness of my slumber, so obnoxiously loud that my first instinct was to bolt to my feet and punch him in the face. Unfortunately, I was too groggy to do anything more than open my eyes and blink up at him, trying to remember who I was and where I was.

Everything came rushing back to me at once, and I picked through the clutter of thoughts till I found the only one that applied right now: I was asleep on the floor of a bedroom that wasn't mine--or more accurately, asleep practically in Zayn's lap. Sometime during the night, he'd dozed off as well, his head thrown against my shoulder, arms looped lazily around my waist, easily cradling my smaller body against his.

It would've been a really awkward position if both of us were awake, but as it was, the angel's eyes were still closed, sleep softening his normally sharp features and adding a touch of innocence. Nonetheless, I felt a hot wave of embarrassment sweep over me as I twisted to meet Jack's startled green gaze once more. This was definitely not a scenario I wanted him walking in on.

Tugging nervously at the hem of my nightgown--which had ridden up once again, baring my thighs--I mumbled, "I... couldn't sleep in my own room."

"I see," Jack said, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "Um... well, I guess now that you're up too, Marge wanted me to call you guys down to breakfast."

Yawning, I mumbled, "What time is it?"

"A little past ten," he responded, giving me a little grin.

"Shit." I buried my face in my hands. 

"No worries. You guys had a long day yesterday. It's totally understandable."

His words were well-intentioned, and I felt myself relax a little bit. "I still feel like a lazy pig, but thanks," I mumbled.

Jack offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. "The bathroom's at the end of the hallway," he told me. "Go ahead and freshen up. I'll wake Zayn up."

Nodding my thanks, I stumbled not-so-gracefully out of the bedroom and down the hall, where I locked myself into the small, blue-wallpapered bathroom. Glancing up at the mirror, I gave an involuntary cringe. I could kiss any notion of getting Jack to like me good-bye, had I been harboring one, because he'd just seen me looking like the bride of Frankenstein. 

"Stupid people in the commercials, waking up looking like supermodels," I muttered to no one in particular, running my fingers through the tousled lump of long black hair that fell over my shoulders. 

After I'd washed my face, I realized I'd left my clothes from yesterday in my bedroom, which resulted in a hasty dash back down the corridor to snatch them off the floor--where I'd thrown them carelessly after changing into my nightgown last night. 

Finally ready to take a shower, I stripped down, stepped into the tub, and pulled out the knob, letting my worries be blasted away by the ensuing jets of hot water.

* * *

Shower over with, I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling considerably more like myself and less like a zombie who just happened to look like Valarie Chase. Pulling at strands of my now-damp hair, I padded towards the staircase, wondering not for the first time how long Zayn planned for us to stay at Marge's. I couldn't live in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt forever, especially considering the weather outside. And there was really no one living here whom I could share clothes with.