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I decide to tell Phoebe what's going on, sending her a message on Facebook. She's still in Waikiki, living it up. Her and Con have done some amazing things – cage diving with sharks, climbing Diamond Head, and lots of shopping. Her hotel is along the beach, overlooking the water and she's sent me some photos of the fireworks outside her room.
I'm so jealous but love living vicariously through her as she starts her new life as a wife.
We make plans to catch up when she returns next week. When they get back, she's going to start moving into Con's house permanently. She's going to lease her apartment, so we're going to spend one more night in there, getting drunk in her living room like old times.
I throw myself on the bed, exhausted. I'm keen for a nap but a knock on the door disturbs me.
"What?" I groan, turning to look as it opens.
Zayn walks in, grinning at me. "You've done well," he says, looking around the room.
"All I did was unpack my shit," I mutter.
He lies sideways on the bed next to me, resting his head on his hand. "Are you hungry? I bet you need some good food after all that hard work."
"I am a little hungry," I admit.
Zayn nods. "We're ordering pizza. It should be here in about half an hour."
"Sounds good," I say, burying my head into the duvet and stretching out.
I feel Zayn's fingers walk along my back, coming to rest on my shoulder blades. He starts massaging them and I let out a groan.
"You feel tight," he mutters humorously, his double meaning not lost on me.
I make some incoherent noise in reply, relaxing as he works his fingers into the sore muscle.
Zayn moves, straddling my ass so he can use both hands. He lifts my shirt up, slipping his hands underneath to rub my bare skin.
I turn my head to the side, my hands under my face as I enjoy the gesture.
"I bet you're stoked to be home," he laughs.
"Yeah," I mumble sarcastically. "I couldn't wait to get back."
His hands move to my sides, and I tense up when he changes the pressure from hard to light. His fingers trail down my sides, brushing the outsides of my breasts.
I hold my breath, my skin tingling as he reaches the waistband of my shorts.
"You should roll over so I can massage the other side," he murmurs quietly. There's a hint of playfulness in his voice and that rational voice in my head says no, but I start to turn over anyway.
Zayn looks down at me, still straddling my waist. His hands grab my shirt, pushing it up my body and lifting it over my head. He pulls off my sports bra, looking down at my breasts appreciatively.
He trails up the sides of my body, and when he reaches the swells of my breasts, he cups them gently. He squeezes them softly, his fingers digging in and brushing against my hardening nipples.
I bite my lip, closing my eyes as I hold back a moan.
Suddenly, I feel his warm mouth close around my nipple, his tongue lapping at the hard tip. My eyes shoot back open, watching him. He locks eyes with me, his hot mouth still sucking gently while his other hand squeezes the other.
Zayn lets go, his hand slipping down to the front of my shorts. He starts rubbing me through the material, gauging my expression for permission.
I do nothing to stop him, my head tipping back as he tugs at my nipple.
I feel his hand slip inside my shorts, his fingers brushing against my pussy. He teases me, stroking his hand up and down, dipping inside slightly before stopping.
"Zayn," I whisper, pushing my hips into his hand.
"What do you want?" he asks, his finger grazing my clit lightly.
