Steal My Girl ➸ z.m.

sixteen

After work I hitched a ride home from Doni, both of us walking into my living room and plopping down on the couch. I sighed and threw an arm over my eyes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she gently asked me. I shrugged awkwardly while laying down.

"Dunno. I just. I dunno. Part of me is happy that I'm finally seeing and talking to him after these four years. I mean, I really loved him D. But another part of me is saying to just, forget him, and like, push him away now. Like he did to me. Maybe that's what I need to do," I said thoughtfully. Doni shook her head,

"No no, don't do that-"

"Yeah! That's exactly what I'm gonna do!" I exclaimed sitting up. "I'm just going to ignore him!" I probably sounded crazy, but who cares. "Thanks D. You always know what to say." I cheekily added. She sighed frustratedly but didn't say anything, falling against my leather couch.

"Got any food?" she asked in a tired voice. I sorely stood up and looked around my kitchen. In my fridge were two containers of leftover Chinese, so I heated it up and handed one to her. "Thanks," I nodded in reply.

"Do you think he cares?" I absentmindedly asked. She raised an eyebrow and I elaborated. "I mean. After all these years. He's obviously moved on from me, but I not from him. I still care for him, as much as I hate the bastard," I grumbled, making Doniyha laugh. "But do you think he still cares about me?" There was a small silence and she observed me.

"Now, I'm not going to answer that."

"What? Why not-"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. Which won't work if you're sticking with the whole 'ignore him' plan." I glared at her and munched on some noodles.

"Would you want to talk to him after four years of being ignored?" I asked her in a sassy voice.

"Honestly?" I nodded. "Yes. I'd want to talk to him day in, day out because- if I were you- I know I cared about him and loved him so much. So much, I don't know how I survived the previous years without 'im. I know that I wouldn't be able to last a week without talking to him, especially since he's back in my life." I continued to glare at her and she kept talking, scooting over closer to me and putting an arm around my shoulder.

"I also know, that I would listen to his sister when she say he feels terrible for what he did, and he doesn't forgive himself for it." I softened my glare to a pout and looked at her.

"Really?"

"Really. Now, I realize you may still want to ignore him for however long. But open your eyes and see it does you no good, Ali! Take it from me, his sister. I know he feels awful. I know he regrets it," she sighed conintiuing, "and still really cares for you." She got an uncomfortable look on her face.

"What?" I asked, skeptic of her next statement.

"Don't tell him or anyone else I said this, but he even cried over you."

"When he 'saw me cheating on him?'" I questioned with air qoutes. "Because yeah, I know, I cried too-"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't mean that day Ali. I don't mean he cried over you that day, and week and month, four years ago. Because I know you know he did." I scrunched my eyebrows up together in confusion.

"Then when-?" I shook my head, baffled at her vague explanation.

"Earlier today he cried. Cried to me in my shop. Last night, he came home and cried to me after he left your house. Which, by the way, I'm surprised you even let him inside." I shrugged.

"It was a compromised situation."

"Anyways. The day and week before, and basically ever since the boys' last concert he has cried to me. Whether it be over the phone or to my face and on my shoulder, he has cried every single day to me, for you."

"Oh."

What else is there to say?

I looked down at my now cold noodles and got up to throw it away. A lump started to form in my throat and I tried to swallow it.

"Do you know. Do you know, just how many times I've cried over him? In the past week alone? Do you, or does he, know the pain I went through, the thoughts I've had just to avoid him? Does he even really think about me, and what I've gone through?" I spoke quietly. Doniyha sighed and looked at her lap.

"I'm sorry," she stood up and gave me a hug, letting me cry into her shoulder. "You both are broken. So, so broken. I think you both need to talk it out with each other, just you two. I hate seeing one of my best friends and my brother fight," she lightly kissed my forehead, being an inch taller than me it was easy for her.

"Promise me you'll try to work things out with him?" I nodded. "Promise you'll talk to him?" I nodded again. "Say it."

"I promise I'll talk to him and make things right, blah blah blah," I sighed, falling back onto the couch.

"Alright," she smiled, lighting up her beautiful face. "I'll see you tomorrow, but I best head home now. Goodnight, Ali."

"Night," I called to her as she showed herself out. I thought over my two promises as I slowly fell asleep right there on the couch.

In the morning, the first thing I thought of was work, and the second was Zayn. Then I realized I didn't have work today, so I contemplated whether or not to avoid Zayn.

I dressed in casual attire, like I was going to the market or something. Then I exited my house to check on my car, calling a tow truck so I could get it fixed. As I got off the phone, Zayn stepped out of his house with a cigarette in hand.

I watched him puff out smoke for a second from my porch before he noticed me. He tried to wave to me and smile, but I panicked and ran inside.

Then I saw the tow truck pull into my driveway, so I grabbed my purse and went back outside, ignoring Zayn this time. But it was so hard for me not to look over and just stare at his beautiful face.

I'll start sorting things out with him tomorrow.

...Or maybe next week.

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