Following In Your Direction [One Direction: Zayn Malik Romance]

19. Fan Mail

                Seth stumbled towards me, a cocky grin planted on his lips as he slurred, "Glad you're back, whore — you were never good enough to be a singer."

                My brow furrowed as I pushed him away. "Shut up, Seth."

                "That's why your little boyfriend went back to his famous girlfriend, Rebecca Ferguson." Seth smirked.

                "No he didn't," I tried to say confidently, but my voice wavered.

                "You really aren't smart, are you?" Seth slurred, laughing loudly and pointing behind me.

                Suddenly, I whirled around and saw Zayn making out with Rebecca Ferguson, just as Seth had accused. I gasped, pushing away an alcoholic Seth away from me and running to Zayn, pushing him off of her with wide, teary eyes. He looked down at me like I was scum.

                Zayns' nose was turned upward at me like a snob.  "You'll never be good enough for me — go back to stupid America."

                I held on tight to his arm, whispering, "But..."

                "You heard him. Get off my boyfriend." Rebecca snapped, pulling him away from me as he gave her a grateful look.

                I bolted upright in bed with a gasp, looking around me with wide eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. I let out a relieved breath when I realized that I was back in the tour bus, the other boys sound asleep, including Zayn who was sleeping right beside me. A smile graced my lips as I kissed him gently on the cheek, thankful that what had just happened was only a dream.

                Quietly, I slipped out of Zayn's bunk bed and onto the ground, deciding to let my racing heart calm down in the lounge. Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was three in the morning — way too early for anybody to be up. Once I was sitting cross-legged on the couch in the lounge area, I calmed down a bit, looking out of the bus windows to see darkness. We were parked, which meant we had arrived near the venue where the boys would be playing at.

                "What are you doing up so early?" Zayn asked, making me jump and gasp, turning around to see him there.

                Zayn stood before me in all of his shirtless, unshaven chin glory, his black hair sticking up all different directions from sleep. "Uh, bad dream. Why are you awake?"

                His brow furrowed as he sat beside me on the couch. "My pretty cuddle buddy left."

                Zayn pulled me onto his lap, my head resting on his shoulder faced towards his neck as his arms wrapped around my petite body. I wrapped my own arms around him, letting out a breath that felt more relieved than just a content sigh. It felt good to know that I had only been dreaming — Zayn still loved me.

                "Do you want to talk about your dream?" Zayn murmured, playing with my hair before kissing my forehead.

                "It was just stupid." I mumbled.

                Zayn told me reassuringly, "Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here babe."

                "Thank you." I whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "You know, I think you win the boyfriend of year award. You chased me to another country even though you were on tour, you never flirt or look at other girls like you do with me, and you never pressure me."