All is Fair: Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Chapter 43

LAST CHAPTAAA LIKE OMG WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT

*Zayn's POV*

"Jess, come here, quick!" I yell to her. She's in the kitchen, I'm in my bed. It's night right now. I'm assuming she's spending the night. She been doing that sometimes for the past couple of months. I kind of like it.

"What is it?" She says back to me as she starts jogging into the room, holding a Popsicle that happens to be one I bought for myself. It's not even a cheap one. It's mango and strawberry and it was the last in the box.

"Watch this with me," I say, and I point to the television.

She rolls her eyes, lagging at the door in an effort to get me to release her. "Zayn, I-"

I stop her mid-sentence. "You have to watch this," I repeat, almost glaring at her.

She gives a defeated sigh and comes and sits on the bed next to me.

I have to scoot over a bit because she decides to come to the side of the bed I am on. She sits close to me. I watch her eat the Popsicle and I grab it from her hand. She yelps.

"Thanks for my Popsicle," I say then I attempt to eat it.

"Aha no," she says all sassy back, then quickly grabs it out of my hand.

I glare at her and she glares at me. "Whatever," I mutter. Then I put my attention back on the television.

The scene starts: "The olive theory!"

"Olive theory?" Jess asks me.

I hush her.

"What's the olive theory?"

"Is this How I Met Your Mother?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Shut up."

"People either love olives or they hate 'em, right? Very few undecideds there. So here's the spooky thing I observed: in every great relationship, there's an olive lover and an olive hater. It's like positive and negative ions. Perfect symbiosis."

The important part of the scene ends there. That's all I wanted her to see.

I mute the television and I smile. I hope the memories are flooding her mind. I know exactly what this is referring to. It was right before Christmas. I came to her mom's house, we were eating pizza, and she said she loves olives. I told her I hate olives. And I'm praying she remembers that.

She stares at me confused, and my hope slowly diminishes. "Well?" I ask.

"I love olives," she says, with a scrunched up brow and a quiet voice.

"And I hate them," I finish for her with such suggestion in my voice. I hope she's thinking what I'm thinking. I mean it. I do think we have a great relationship. Perfect symbiosis. I think our relationship can last. I've been thinking it a lot recently, and I can't help but feel it's true.

Her eyes drop to her Popsicle, but I can see her smiling. "You're... stupid."

I grin. "Stupid?" I ask like I'm offended.

She looks at me with soft eyes and nudges me with her shoulder. "Stupid and perfect."

"Perfect?" I respond with a smirk.

"Stop it," she says and she shoves my arm.

"Whatever." I sit up in bed, grabbing a paper off the nightstand and quickly hiding it behind my back. "I have a question to ask you."

She gives a skeptical stare. "What is it?"

I laugh at her apprehension. Apparently my laughter causes her to worry more.