Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

23. Instinct

Zayn

I'm just lucky this time. Harry could leave the house unnoticed. Neither Gigi nor Louis got wind of it. Quickly I wash my hands, take a look in the large bathroom mirror. My hair is tousled. I quickly stroke it with my hand and straighten it. Take another deep breath and I go to the lion's den. 

In the kitchen I hear my wife chatting with Louis. When I join them, Tomlinson gives me a questionable look.

"Why have you kept me waiting so long? I was bored to death," he says visibly angry.

"I needed some rest. I wasn't doing so well. Sometimes the smell of the colors gets too much for me and I get headaches," I answer emotionless.

Louis nods, but looks skeptical.

"I thought you'd run off with Harry."

Sarcasm is in his voice and I have to control myself not to be exposed.

"Harry?"

She cut in when we were talking.

"Was he here too?"

What did I get myself into? This guy is nothing but trouble.  I'd let sleeping dogs lie, Tommo , I think.

"First of all Harry wanted to see Louis, darling - so not me. Later I walked him to the door. Any more questions?"

Both look at me concerned. They notice that they have cornered me.

"I don't think I'll be able to paint today, Lou. I'm not in the mood anymore."

I'm acting like an extravagant Artist. My wife is trying to salvage the situation.

"Why don't we have a nice dinner together, huh? Zayn, could cook a tasty meal! Louis, my husband owes you that." 

Why on earth would she think that? So who owes whom anything now? I owe this idiot nothing! I grumble my agreement and hope that this day ends as fast as possible. 

Gigi disappears into the pantry to get things for dinner. After a while she comes back. I see discomfort in her face.
"Zayn? Will you please come for a moment?"

Aah, I know this is the end. I can see it on her face. I wonder if we left any clothes there.

"Were you in the pantry?" she interrupts my thoughts.

"What makes you think that, darling? Am I in charge for the cooking?"

I try to be as relaxed and macho as possible.

"Well, there were some canned food on the floor." 

Just when I thought the questioning was over, she showed me a necklace.

"And I found this on the floor!"

Her voice is warning and serious, her eyes flash suspiciously. In her flat hand is a small silver necklace with a paper plane as a pendant. Damn it, Styles. Don't let on; be surprised and unsuspecting.

"Never seen it before." I reply. My wife won't give up. Her eyes are fixed on mine. Does she suspect anything?

"May I see the necklace once?" sounds Louis bent over the kitchen island.

I hate him, I hate that guy. Who is this guy, and why is he all up in my business? Gigi hands him the necklace. He looks at it extensively, turns it back and forth as if it were something fragile.

"Never seen it before," he says and throws me a meaningful grin.

Usually, my instinct are sharp. Louis is lying. He has known Harry for many years and must associate this jewellery with him.

"Probably it belongs to our maid," Gigi ends the tiresome subject and puts the necklace in a bowl.

Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, the whole thing creeped me out a little. Tomlinson may know part of my secret. I'm not comfortable with it. When my wife briefly disappears into the living room, he moves closer to my side. With a gloating smile on his face, he whispers in my ear:

"You should give Harry it back as soon as possible. Be glad I didn't betray you."

His words were like a punch to the gut.

"You owe me a little more than just the portrait now, Malik!"

I'm hot and cold at the same time. My blood is rushing in my ears. After a kind of long, awkward period of time, I broke the silence. I come up with:

"What is this, Tomlinson? Are you blackmailing me?"

Only with difficulty can I control my emotions.

"Well, well... who's going to talk about blackmail?"

With a broad grin he shakes his head. The blue eyes look at me greedily. I hate them. I hate this pale water blue. They are nothing compared to Harrys.

"You have a little soft spot for your neighbour, don't you?" he says.

"The other day in Harrys garden, when you spontaneously visited him, I already noticed that. You were both so tense. Probably an argument preceded?"

I get sick when I hear his sing-song.

"You flirted with me to make him jealous. Am I right?"

His hand lies on the back of my hand and caresses it. It disgusts me. Hastily I shake it off. I grind my teeth and burn with fury, but I still don't answer it.

"You even painted him," he purrs.

That's enough. He snoops around in my studio and unveiling my painting of Harry? No one should ever see it. Nobody. My fists are clenched and about to make contact with his doll face.

"What do you want from me, Tomlinson?" I hiss. 

"Y O U!"