Figure You Out (Zayn Malik Fanfic)

chapter 19

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I had no idea what to wear on a date. A cute floral shirt and jeans? A striped dress? What was he going to wear? I swear if he went shirtless again I’d murder myself. I decided to wear a simple dress I got from Debs and pretty, white flats. Finally his little car pulled up to my house and I got in. Zayn looked absolutely handsome. He had shaved, and his hair was gelled up in the front. He wasn’t wearing earrings, and had on a nice grey jacket, with a tie, and slacker pants.

“You look handsome, Zayn,” I beamed at him and he shrugged.

“Well, you look beautiful,”

I was glad I didn’t go with the jeans.

As we drove, Zayn finally turned on the radio. He changed it to the oldies pop hits, and began to hum to a song. “Billy Joel,” he finally said.

“I love this song,”

I rolled my eyes and changed the song. He looked upset for a second but then instantly smiled.

“Christ Brown, he’s like my favorite singer,”

“He’s cool,” I responded.

“Then who do you like?”

“I listen to bands, most of the time. Sometimes just plain music without words,” I pushed up the stack of bracelets on my arm.

“You’re weird,” Zayn said, smiling a bit. “But I like weird,”

We finally arrived at the restaurant, and I had realized it was an Italian restaurant. “How’d you know I like Italian?”

“I stalked your facebook,”

“I don’t have a facebook,”

Zayn snickered and opened the door for me. “Lucky guess,”

I stepped out and we both entered the restaurant, holding hands. A waitress led us to the table and he sat, admiring me.

“It’s hard to believe,”

“What?” I asked, blushing.
“That I ever couldn’t stand you,” he winked at me and brushed a piece of hair from his face.

I laughed, “You couldn’t stand me?”

“I don’t know. You were just so…”

I cut him off, still laughing. “As a matter of fact I hated you as well,”

Zayn gasped, and acted all surprised, “Who me?”

“You have to admit you can be a mean ol' ape sometimes,”

Zayn shrugged and grabbed his menu.

“I’m still, like really sorry about your dad though,” I sighed, and pretended to skim through the menu. I already knew what I wanted. A big heaping plate of spaghetti.

“It’s fine. I just felt like… it was my fault.” He lowered his head and I could see him trace a certain tattoo on his wrist. “So many things are my fault,”

“Not everything’s your fault Zayn. You just blame everything that happens on yourself,” I gave him a reassuring smile and he responded with a half smile.