We'll Be A Dream

Are they on tour?

I quickly send the text before shoving my phone in my back pocket, smiling toward the barista as she hands me my coffee. I take a sip as I walk back over to my table, pulling out my book. My eyes scan around one more time before I slump in my seat and start reading.

I had only gotten through half my page before my phone buzzes again. I pull it out and glance at the screen, my heart rocketing at the words from my sister. Last time I checked, no.

Shit.

You've got to be kidding. I look back at my book, trying not to let the nerves overwhelm me. What if he walked in? I could've sworn that the last article I read said that they were on tour in Australia, so I assumed they wouldn't be here. But Amy said they were home so, fuck, I might have to face him and I'm not yet ready to do that.

Nope.

"Thanks for the blunt answer, Amy," I groan softly, not bothering to answer her. I take another look around the small coffee hut, feeling relaxed. Maybe I'm just paranoid.

It's not like Zayn comes here everyday. At least, two years ago he only came about once a week. So hopefully today wasn't that one day or else I'm screwed. I've been building up to seeing him again but I knew I was far from ready to look him in the face. Too much had happened and too much time had passed. He'd probably spit in my face and cuss me out before walking away haughtily. And the thought of that made my heart clench.

I return to my book, trying to keep an open mind. I'm not so unlucky as to be forced into an awkward confrontation with him. I would like to think God isn't that cruel. So I scan over each word carefully but not comprehending what I was reading. "Shit," I mutter after I had read through two full pages but didn't digest any of it.

I feel my phone buzz again and I look down at it. I was expecting another message from Amy, but grin when I see it’s just Niall. Hey baby girl. Ames told me you were home. Where you at?

I laugh and shake my head, quickly typing an answer. Out. I’ll be back at my flat in a couple hours. Leave me be for now.

My book had been flipped a few pages when the sound of the door opening caught my attention. I look up and my heart stops. So. God really is cruel. I immediately put my book up and hide my face behind it, my teeth chewing at my pinky nail out of habit. He is right. Fucking. There.

“Hey,” he says in his sexy, deep British accent. That twang in his voice always got to me and I felt my hands shake. “Leila!” The barista gives a cheer at the sight of him. God, he’s a regular. “The usual. Anything interesting today?”

“Pumpkin muffin,” she says, a shrug in her tone. “Nothing special.”

“I’ll try it.”

Shit. Zayn, of all the days to get coffee you pick today? It’s a Tuesday! Shouldn’t you be in the studio or something?

I try to focus on my copy of The Great Gatsby but all I could truly concentrate on was the drumming of my heart and my body’s painful awareness that the boy I broke was standing a mere twenty feet away from me. One year of not being near him was almost like I had gotten a heart transplant. I now had my full heart back but it wasn’t worth it because it’s like it wouldn’t work properly.

“Thanks, Leila,” Zayn says. “I think I’ll stay for a bit, have a chat? It’s been a bit hectic lately so I need some time. Keep that coffee pot full.” I heard the laugh of the barista before his footsteps and the scraping of a chair being pulled away from a table.

I gulp and peek out from behind my book, bracing myself.

He didn’t look any different. He obviously had more definition to his body, his jaw angular and arms lean and toned. I could feel my chest giving out at the sight of the veins in his neck. I wanted to run over and trace them with the tips of my fingers. He had a splash of blonde at the front of his hair and his dark eyes were still that mesmerizing shade. I could feel my body shifting as it heated up. I could never keep my body under control around him.

I watch as he takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze turned toward the window. I could see his eyes scanning the coffee shop, his expression a bit blank. Not bored, just comfortable. Like he was used to being where he was.

And the moment his eyes start to look my way, I swoosh back to behind my book.

I could feel my teeth chattering nervously. He was silent as before, so I was thinking I had hidden behind my book in time. I read with as much ease as I could muster up.

But then, just as I was getting back into the story of riches, it was snatched out of my hand and I am looking up into the face of Zayn.

“Hello, love,” he grins.

I gulp, my eyes flicking to my book that was in his hand, his tight grip crumpling a bit of the pages. “Hello, Zayn,” I say back. “Could you stop murdering my book? I paid for that.”

He looks down at it and nods, closing the book gently and setting it on the table in front of me. I couldn’t help but stare at his hands, remembering how they felt touching me intimately.

“So, Darling, what brings you back home?” he questions as he sits down.

I grind my teeth together. “Do not call me by my last name. You know how much I dislike it.” Zayn always loved pushing my buttons and when we had dated, I tolerated him calling me by my surname, Darling.

“Fine,” he murmurs. “Tess.”

“Thank you,” I mutter back, glancing down at the table top.

I hadn’t seen this man in a whole fucking year, yet he seemed completely at ease as he just stared at me, his coffee in front of him as he fingered the lid. I lick my lips.

“Where’ve you been?” he asks, skipping the foreplay and jumping right in. I wasn’t caught off guard. I knew he would want answers and I knew I had to face the music at some point. So I square my shoulders and look him directly in the face.

Bad idea. He was too intimidating.

I immediately slump back down, sighing in defeat. “Luxembourg, visiting Gramps,” I admit, shrugging my shoulders. “He was sick. Grams couldn’t take care of him because of the cancer, so I was left to nurse two ill-ridden people back to health.”

“How did they do?”

“Gramps died.”

Zayn’s face falls and he breathes out. “I am so sorry. I had no idea. Amy didn’t say a word to me about—”

“Because I told her not to.”

He was a bit taken aback by this. “And why is that?” He didn’t seem angry, more just amused that I had taken some measures when I returned home. And I had a right to.

“Because I knew it would just urge you to talk to me,” I confess. “Which is true, even though you are talking to me as of now with no motivation to do so.” I stop and cock my head to the side. “Is that true? Are you just talking to me for the hell of it? Or do you have a purpose here?”

“I’ve known you since I was five years old, Tess,” he instantly backfires. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

“I left you. I abandoned you at the worst time in your life.”

He shrugs. “Forgive, forget. I forgot and forgave. I moved on. I don’t hold grudges, Tess. And I know you moved on as well. Amy told me all about George or whoever it is that you met in Luxembourg.”

“Greg, actually,” I correct him. “And we ended a few months back.”

Zayn tilts his head. “Is that so?”

I nod, bringing my coffee to my mouth and sipping. “How are you and Perrie?” I felt a small pang to my chest, asking how he was with another girl, but it was my fault I felt this way. So I make sure my sorrow and regret didn’t show on my face. Zayn didn’t seem to notice as he glances at the clock on the wall. Did he have somewhere to be? Probably. He’s all big and famous now.

“Fine,” he nods. “It’s been rough lately. We never see each other and that’s a big strain on the relationship.” He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “How long are you home?”

“As long as Amy will have me,” I tell him. “I have nowhere to go.”

His smile seemed a bit broken, but I take it. Zayn nods. “All right. We should hang out then. I’ll tell the boys you’re here and they’ll, along with myself, force you to one of our gigs. Good?”

I hesitate, but force myself to nod. “Good.”

He stands and leans over toward me, his lips pressing against my forehead. The feeling of his lips against my skin made a cold, delicious shiver run down my spine. “Don’t be a stranger,” he whispers in my ear before pulling away. I just stare after him as he walks out of the coffee shop.

My heart went with him.