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He clears his throat and I’m hoping this gummy helps me get out of my own head about Zayn. I cannot fall for him again.
He continues, “Anyway, thanks for listening and for being so forgiving. You’re one of the best people I know, Autumn.”
“I should be thanking you too. You’ve helped shake me out from my comfort zone, and I’ve honestly enjoyed it . . . a little bit, anyway.” I wink at him. “And this is me admitting this before the gummy starts talking.”
We both crack up.
Zayn lifts his gummy high and mighty into the air and says, “Cheers to us and our first adventure with getting high from gummies.”
A smile crosses over my face. “Cheers.”
Iglance away from the TV. “Well, shit. Maybe it didn’t work. Are you feeling anything?” I ask Zayn.
“Hmm . . . not really. Should we try a second one?” he asks.
I shrug and pull the bag back closer to us. “Let’s do it. It’s been half an hour and nothing. What have we got to lose with trying a second?”
“Your call, Miss Parker.”
“Let’s do it,” I say with fake confidence; I’m actually scared shitless of getting high. Zayn doesn’t seem to notice my hands shaking with trepidation, so I feel like maybe it’s all in my head.Maybe getting high will be good for me with this damn anxiety. I’m so sick of overthinking and worrying about every little thing, every single day.I exhale deeply before I pop the next gummy in my mouth. I notice that Zayn does the same thing. Maybe he’s nervous, too.
“This has been such a vulnerable night for me, I could really use a good high,” he says. I couldn’t agree more.
I nod before scooting closer to him on the couch. I didn’t realize how close I got until I breathed in a huge whiff of his cologne. Or maybe deodorant? Either way, it smells so sexy. I take in a second subtle sniff before I scoot a bit further away from him. I want to make sure that if I do get high, I don’t do anything stupid.
Speaking of stupid, my text message alert goes off. I grab my phone from the table and look at the screen, shocked at the name that appears.Liam.
“What could he possibly want?” I ask aloud, cueing Zayn to look at my phone, too.
“Uh oh. That can’t be good, right?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say while setting the phone back down. “It’s fine, I’m going to ignore it. I’ll check it later.”
Zayn gives a subtle nod and looks back at the TV. I wonder if it’s just as obvious to him as it is to me that neither of us has actually paid any attention to the show. I don’t mind the distraction of being here, though. I’ve never been to his place before, but I do oddly feel comfortable being here. Maybe it’s simply the feeling I get whenever I’m around Zayn. Not that I’ll admit that to him, of course.
I start to smile, lost in thought, when Zayn interrupts. “Autumn, check the message. It’s killing me to see what he wants.”
Ooh, what am I sensing here? Is he perhaps a bit jealous? Or maybe he’s just this nosy now.“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll check it quickly. What on Earth does he even want?”
I swipe to unlock my screen and click on Messages. I decide to read it aloud:
Liam:I have some news. Can you talk for a few?
“What would he have to tell me that’s news?” I shrug. “Ugh, I should probably give him a quick call and get this over with. What do you think?”
Zayn’s mouth falls open, but only nonsense sounds come out until he finally says, “Uh—I . . . don’t know.” I look at him longer waiting for a better response when he suddenly bursts out into uncontrollable laughter.
“What is so fun—?” I begin to ask, but I’m cut off the by sound of my own obnoxious laughter. I cover my mouth to suppress it. This makes Zayn laugh harder and soon enough, the two of us are rolling on the floor, hands pressed against our stomachs in a fit of laughter. After what feels like several minutes of pure, insane laughter, I sit up to ask. “What was I even doing?”
Zayn shrugs, and we both continue giggling. He then rolls his body upward to a sitting position. “Autumn, I have thebestidea,” he tells me.
“What? Tell me now,” I demand.
He then stands to his feet and offers his hand down to me. I accept without hesitation as he says, “Let’s go. We can walk from here.”
Once to my feet, I still feel the warmth from his hand and realize I haven’t yet let go. He must realize it, too, because he lets go and forces his hand to comb his hair back. I watch as his fingers move through each strand in seemingly very slow motion. My gaze breaks when he asks, “You ready?”
“I guess so.” I grab my phone from the table and stick it in my back pocket. “Should I bring my bag with me?” I ask as he tosses on a hoodie. I put my sweater on, too.
