Turning Tables

It was a little honky-tonk restaurant where the atmosphere was filled with smoke, despite the law, and the aroma of pork and whiskey flooded Finley's nose. A woman in her mid-forties acted as their server and lead the young couple to a booth in the back. As they walked past, a head or two swiveled, recognition flashed in their eyes only to be replaced by doubt. If they did recognize Zayn, they had dismissed him simply for the thought of, 'what would a popstar be doing in our little town?'

Finely enjoyed the lack of attention. It reminded her of the days before One Direction had truly hit off, once people started to recognize them everywhere. Back when she had been a quiet girl at the coffee shop, reading a fantasy novel when it wasn't so busy. Back when she didn't have appearances to keep up with, when she didn't have cameras following her in the street to get the latest scoop on her life or on her boyfriend. She enjoyed this. She enjoyed the simplicity of it all.

"I'll be back with your menus," said the woman blankly, treating the pair as just another passing through or moving in. Whatever the case would be, the woman didn't seem as if she cared at all.

"I know it's nothing fancy," apologized Zayn, "but it was the best I could do without getting a good look around this town."

"No. I love it. Really." She beamed her gratitude at him and he smiled wholeheartedly. She knew he saw the way the attention made her feel- exposed and impersonal. It was also apparent that he saw how she felt about him, with or without the cameras, and he knew she'd love him always. There was no changing that. He liked to see her happy and radiating, as she seemed to be doing tonight.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed happily, forgetting her surroundings for a brief moment. She cleared her throat, a flush of red on her pale cheeks. She lowered her voice when she spoke again. "It reminds me of the old days."

"I'm sorry, Fin. You have no idea," he muttered, pressing his palms to his forehead. His eyes were closed but Finley could practically feel the force of the tears that were welling behind them. "If I had met you before I met the lads... It would all be different..."

"Babe," she said firmly, placing her hand across the table. Zayn knew instantly what she needed. He dropped one hand onto hers and curled his fingers around her hand. She smiled. "You know I don't have any qualms about the fame of One Direction. I love that you were devoted enough to make it big. You're an international popstar! That's much farther than most people get, believe me. I love you Zayn Malik, and I love the lads, and I love One Direction."

"But you always seem so discontent with it all," he muttered sadly.

"No," Finley whispered. "It was the lack of a private life. But it's times like these, these little trips, that remind me why I love you. You'd do anything to keep a smile on my face. Let me do the same for you."

Zayn looked up, a big grin stretched across his face. He genuinely looked happy. He seemed to forget his worries, but even still Finley could see something residing deep within his mind. It would again fight its way to the surface but right now it was of little importance. She wanted to enjoy her trip with him, and have him enjoy it as well. They could work out other issues when they went home.

Suddenly there was an impatient cough and the couple looked up to see their waitress, tired eyed and ready for them to take their menus. They each took one and looked it over. Soon enough, they ordered and minutes later they received their food and their drinks. They two ate and laughed, telling recent stories of their lives that the other hadn't heard yet or making jokes about their fellow restaurant patrons in their drunken stupors.

When they'd finished their meals, the two decided not to take a cab back to the hotel just yet. Instead they decided they'd roam the small Arizona town. The couple walked hand in hand, the ginger's head resting on the older boy's shoulder as they strolled along in the cool summer night air. It didn't take them long until they came across the town park. Finley had practically leapt with joy at the sight and raced to the swing set. Zayn merely laughed at her, but he strode forward so that he could push her on the swings.

She flew back and forth, night wind buzzing through her hair. She sighed into the dark sky and drank in the simplicity of the moment. She hadn't been to a playground in quite sometime. It was the fond innocence of a familiar setting and the essence of her lover that made her feel safe and happy.

Moments later, the swing slowed down but she didn't notice until her back slammed against Zayn's chest. Finley tilted her head back and gazed up at him, meeting his face as he gazed back at her. Without a word spoken, he leaned back and kissed her. She kissed back, and hard, and tried to force her love for him through the contact of their lips. He pushed back against her kiss, pushing an equal amount of love back through his lips as well. Neither spoke until Finley pulled away.

"I'm cold," she giggled, rubbing at her bare arms.

"Let's get back, then," he laughed and picked her up, swinging her over his arms like a princess. She rested her head against his chest as he carried her, drinking in his scent. He kissed the top her head once more and she felt it again; that something that haunted Zayn's core, something he wasn't telling her about. Still it wasn't her place to say anything, so she didn't ask, but rather she yearned for him to confide in her.

She sighed and fell asleep in his arms.