Secrets (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 25

Zayns POV

Paranoia has certainly crept in, settling beneath my skin, lurking in the back of my mind. As I make my way down the street, I constantly glance over my shoulder, to be sure nobody is following me. The street is more so abandoned, no one drives through or is bold enough to walk down it. Except for myself.

Then again, the reason I'm here at all makes me a dumbass.

Tugging at the sleeves of my sweater, I turn into an alley that leads to an abandoned train station. The infamous British Museum. The place gives me the fucking creeps, the way the tunnels are so dim, and water echoes throughout them as it drips from the ceiling. All the tunnels lead to the main lobby, and as I approach it I see him standing there.

He's too busy on his phone to notice me standing in the tunnel, and the dim lighting makes him a bit intimidating.

I clear my throat, startling him. "Explain to me again why, you chose the British Museum to meet me?"

"No people, silence, no suspicion, our little secret." He says cockily, "you should know plenty about keeping secrets Zayn."

"Yeah I'm trying to change that actually." I shrug, approaching him and I'm able to see all of his features in the little lighting available.

"Oh really?" He finally looks up from his tiny phone screen, and meets my glare. "Is it because of that slut you've been hanging around lately?"

My blood boils at his choice of words to describe Ellana. He knows nothing of her, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can.

"Slut? That girl is-"

I pause because really, I could call myself out and get into a shit load of trouble with this man. I have a job, a very difficult job to do, and I can't be getting distracted with someone as beautiful as she is. She'll only make me betray everything and everyone I've worked so hard for, and myself.

"Nothing to me. But from what I've learned, she is most certainly not a slut." I mumble, feeling defeated.

"Good! I hoped so, or else we would have another problem on our hands. Either way, I felt obligated to show you these." He holds out two photographs to me, and at first I'm confused by what I should be looking at.

Then it all settles in.

The pictures are of Ella and Harry, standing much too close in the campus lobby. The glare of the sun blocks out a portion of them but it's clear enough for me to recognize her pretty face. And Harry's sneaky, devious face.

"Fine Zayn, I'll agree. Looking at these pictures I can't really call her a slut. But if you so happen to be falling for her, just know she's friendly and kind and loving to everyone." His voice is evil, and laced with venom as he leans into my ear.

"And if you so happen to be falling for her," he repeats slowly, "I'll end the relationship faster than you can pull the trigger."

I'm puzzled at first, by his subtle riddle. But I let my common sense do it's job, to put the pieces together. And I know by now, being with Ella is technically impossible.

Except, in this life, nothing is impossible.

Ella's POV

I sit on my end, tugging on my boot. I'm all dressed for my date with Zayn, except I have no idea where he is. It's been about three hours since I've last heard from him, and I'm a little worried.

He's a big boy, he can handle himself- my conscious scolds me.

I reach for my phone and check the time.

"6:10"

If anything he's always early, eager to see me. It's adorable the way his eyes light up when he see me, and the way he blushes when I compliment him. For him to be late is completely abnormal, and I'm left with no choice except to worry. Just as I prepare to call him, a knock bangs on my door.

"Who is it?" I call, trying my hardest to slip on this boot as fast as I can. But I make a mental note to myself to seriously stop asking that.

"The pizza delivery guy." He calls through the door, and I smirk at his sarcastic tone.

"Pizza is life." I laugh, and I can almost see in my head, him laughing with me.

I open the door, and am taken back by his appearance. He's draped in all black, but looks so sexy that way. He shaved and I can finally see all of his skin. Although, the clean shaven look contrasts with the abundant amount of tattoos along with his lip and eyebrow piercings. I refuse to complain anyway.

"Hi." I smile up at him nervously.

"Hi." He smirks, and leans down to kiss me. Each and every time he does, I can't get over the foreign feeling in my chest that rises as he touches me and falls as he pulls away.

He takes my hand in his, and leads me down the hallway. His touch feels distant though, and I'm wondering how we've come to that point. The point where I know him well enough that I can tell when something is wrong just by the way he holds my hand. Especially since it's only been about two months that I've known him.

"Is something wrong?" I squeeze his hand, hoping he'll look at me again.

"No, why?" He shrugs casually, not meeting my eyes.

"You just feel off."

"No, I'm just thinking that's all."

"About what? If I may ask." I mumble.

"Ella, remember when we first met and you asked me a shit load of questions?" He stops, and finally looks at me. Except instead of kindness and thoughtfulness, his eyes hold complete annoyance.

I nod in silence.

"Can you please stop with them? Shit." He huffs in annoyance, and I'm taken back by his rude demeanor.

I decide to stay quiet, and let whatever issues he has, sort themselves out. He sighs, and I keep my eyes glued to the floor for the remainder of the walk. I softly tug my hand away from his, to be released from his grip. But as I pull away, his grip gets stronger.

He looks down at me swiftly, "Don't pull away, I need this. I need you."

"And you're not a softie?" I giggle, slightly worried I might annoy him again.

"Oh no babe, still not a softie." He leans into my ear, "you'll see later."

My breathing hitches, as I realize what he means. I can't decide if I'm nervous because I'm scared, or if I'm nervous because I need him right now just as much as he needs me.