Taking Chances

“Good morning,” I heard a familiar voice mumble into my ear, followed immediately by the feeling of something pressing into the hollow under my jaw.

Slowly, I blinked to life, struggling not to yawn in Zayn’s face. He looked so happy, his eyes sparkling, his lips turned up at the corners.

When our gazes met, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m great,” I assured him with a small smile.

Blinking a couple of times to get the sleep away, I threw the covers off me to stand up. I didn’t make much progress, though, before he pulled me back down next to him.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled throatily before leaning in to kiss me.

Laughing loudly, I pushed him away from me. “Gross, Zayn. I’m not kissing you when I have morning breath. That’s just disgusting.”

“Maybe I like your morning breath,” he whined, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“Ew.” I cringed dramatically. “Well, I’m not a big fan of yours, so it still sucks to be you.”

“I don’t have morning breath!” he argued.

I gave him a little ‘that’s so precious’ face. “Aw, sweetie. You totally do. But it’s okay. I still love you.”

With that, I pulled a t-shirt over my head so I didn’t walk out of Zayn’s room in just a bra and pajama pants.

Sighing loudly, Zayn climbed out of bed himself, although he hadn’t put on any clothes before he went to sleep last night. Not that he needed to. I just personally didn’t feel comfortable sleeping naked.

Without waiting for him to get dressed, I walked out into the living room, not even bothering to close the door, since I figured we were alone.

But we weren’t.

Rebecca was in the kitchen, cooking some eggs and pancakes on the stove. Right when she saw me, with my hair a mess, having come out of Zayn’s room, she blushed deeply. “Hi,” she greeted bashfully. “It’s morning, so I figured it was okay to come back…” After a short pause, she finished, “It was, right?”

“Perfectly okay,” I agreed.

She smiled a little and went back to cooking, humming under her breath in her sweet voice.

Taking that as a dismissal, I disappeared down the hallway to the bathroom.

When I came out, Zayn was sitting at the kitchen table, clad in a tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. He was having a polite conversation with Rebecca, but I could tell that she was slightly uncomfortable. And definitely because of what happened the night before. Poor girl.

“So,” I butted in, trying to change the subject, “what did you and Liam do last night?”

Rebecca shrugged as she piled some pancakes on to the awaiting plate. “We watched Shawshank Redemption, which he’d never seen before, and then we went to sleep. I stayed on the couch, and he was in his room. It wasn’t really anything exciting.”

“That sounds like fun,” I encouraged, pretending that I didn’t notice Zayn watching me.

“It was,” Rebecca agreed. “Alright, are you guys hungry?”

“Starving,” Zayn answered, getting to his feet and brushing past Rebecca to get to the fridge. “What does everyone want to drink?”

“Orange juice, please,” I told him.

He nodded and pulled it out, dropping it onto the counter next to him. “Rebecca?”

“I’ll just have orange juice, too,” she said easily as she brought the food out to the table.

Immediately, I started piling the food onto my plate, ignoring the fact that I was making myself look like a fatty.

Zayn put my glass of orange juice down in front of me just as I was reaching to get the syrup, and I almost made him lose his grip because of it. “Careful!” he laughed. “Little klutz.”

“Bite me,” I replied, giving him a cheeky smile.

He rolled his eyes and sat down. “God. So touchy.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and proceeded to drench my pancakes in syrup. Once I was done, I looked up to find Rebecca giving me a jokingly critical look.

“Really?” she sighed. “Why don’t you have some pancakes with your syrup?”

“They’re here,” I argued, stabbing off a piece to prove my point. “They’re just shy. Or cold. I don’t know. My Pancake’s a little rusty.”

“Pancake…?” Zayn repeated slowly, as if he was positive he’d misheard me. “As in…?”

“The language of the pancakes…” I trailed off. “Come on, Zayn. It’s not that hard.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m just not as worldly as you.”

“That’s for sure. And just to think, you’ve traveled the world more than me. It’s just pitiful.”

“I guess I’m too busy getting mobbed by teenage girls to take in the cultures around me.”

“I guess you are,” I responded with a raised eyebrow. “You whore.”

Rebecca burst out laughing, and Zayn tried to look offended. “Whore? Ouch. That really hurts, Bailey.”

“As I said earlier, sucks to be you.”

He shook his head and made a show of pretending to be angry at me, smashing his silverware against his plate as he ate.

“So how did you sleep?” I asked Rebecca, ignoring Zayn completely. “Was the couch comfy enough?”

“Oh, yeah. His couch was way comfier than Zayn’s couch.”

“Hey!” he sniffled. “I feel like you guys are ganging up on me.”

“And yet again,” I started, but Zayn cut me off before I could finish.

“I know, I know. It sucks to be me.”

“That it does.” I grinned widely at him before popping another bite of pancake into my mouth.

Zayn sighed and opened his mouth to say something, but sensing that it was going to be something suggestive from the look in his eye, I cut him off. “So, Rebecca, what are your plans for today?”

She looked up, her expression almost surprised that we had addressed her, before swallowing what food was in her mouth. “Um…I think we have to finalize the paperwork for the apartment, and we should call the moving company to make arrangements for the time and everything.”

“No way,” Zayn interjected. “You guys are not calling a moving company. The boys and I will help you.”

Without thinking, I burst out laughing. “Alright, so Liam’s got some real muscles. But the rest of you? Really? You’d be willing to carry some massive boxes? Remember, all my furniture’s getting shipped over from L.A., too.”

“We can do it,” he snuffed, sitting up straighter. “You’re underestimating our strength.”

“We’ll see,” I sing-songed teasingly, sipping my orange juice.