The Pianist - One Direction

Chapter 24

Zayn's POV

The road in front of the car was suddenly very interesting and I stared in front of me between Louis' and Niall's seats. I didn't want to be so aware of her. I always knew when she walked into a room or what she was doing, since I kept glancing towards her. I hated it. I had to stop.

Her red hair was very wild that day and I could clearly see the bright colours in the corner of my eye. I knew that her blue eyes was watching me every now and then, wondering why I was being so quiet. I knew that she was pulling her sweater down her wrists and making sweater-paws or destroyed her nail polish by scratching on it with her thumbnail. She was more comfortable with an instrument in her hands or something to hold or do with her hands.

I was so aware of what she was doing. There would never happen anything between us. So many times, I've been sure that she was having similar feelings towards me and just as many times, something has happened that destroyed it all and it feels like Amor is laughing at me because he only hit me with his arrow and not her.

If she did like me back, she would never agree on having a relationship with me. Not when we were going to be on the same tour for months.

Isabelle was very passionate about her music. She didn't like fame, but because it was because of her music, she was okay with it. She would never agree on being famous because she was Zayn Malik's girlfriend. No way.

She's so hard for me to read, one day we're great friends, the next she avoids me and another she is friend with me again, just to get pissed of later. Most guys would probably get mad at a girl with that many mood changes, but I thought that made her more interesting. We did new things every day, one day was never like the other. Maybe I should be wanting a change of that, maybe I should be interested in someone that you knew exactly where you had her, but I wanted someone like Isabelle. No, I wanted Isabelle and no one else. I just had to make her want me back.

I had a theory about that she could be having issues with trust and any kind of commitment. It wouldn't be very surprising, thinking of what that idiot Ryan did to her. I could still remember what she said that time she actually talked to me and trusted me. I had been wrong when I told her to talk to me when she felt bad. She actually had opened up, once. It was one of the nights in Paris, during our week off. She had knocked on my door one night. I was laying on the bed and tried to find a good show on the TV in English when she had decided to visit my hotel room.

She was standing in a one piece outside my door with her hair tied up. I smiled because I remembered how we reacted when she said she didn't own a one piece when we first had met her. They really were incredibly comfortable.

"What's up?" She asked and smiled. Her teeth wasn't visible when she smiled like that, but the small dimple in her cheek was clear. She had a great smile and she used to smile widely often, but I liked these small smirks as well. She looked cute and she used to raise one eyebrow when she smiled like that. It could scare me how much something as a smile could make me think. How much I would notice everything she did and find it nice, beautiful, perfect even.

I had given up long before that. I had already accepted that I was falling for her and I knew I couldn't try to stop it. It was too late and I was too caught up in her smile. It was painful enough to believe that nothing would happen. It would be even worse to lie to myself.

"Just trying to learn French. I'm not improving much, but apparently they don't like English in this hotel." I answered, making her laugh before she walked around me and threw herself in my bed without thinking twice. Her laugh was always stuck in my mind, playing on repeat in my memory after I'd heard it.

Issy half-sat on my bed with her feet, only the feet, under the covers. Shoes and socks were only used when needed, she preferred to be barefoot even though it was too cold.