Well Played

After Rose’s uncomfortable suggestion, the two teenagers made small talk, chatting about school and other unimportant topics. Zayn wanted to change the subject to learn more about her, but he was afraid the atmosphere might turn awkward again, which was not what he wanted.

About twenty minutes later, Zayn pulled up Rose’s long driveway to drive up to her house. It was certainly grand, about as big as all of the houses on Zayn’s street put together, with a wraparound gate and massive front yard. All the lights were out, except for a single spotlight on the porch.

“So the cameras can catch if anyone steps up to the door,” Rose explained, noticing that Zayn was staring at it curiously.

“You have cameras?” Zayn gasped. Hell, in his neighborhood, people’s only form of security was their two fists. And people typically didn’t even lock their doors. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to wake up in the morning and find a teenage kid that he didn’t even know sprawled out on the couch.

“Yeah.” Rose blushed and bit her lip briefly. “It’s just a precautionary measure.”

“Making sure those greasers don’t break in and steal your daddy’s beer?” Zayn asked. He’d meant it as a joke, but it didn’t escape either of their notices that a bitter tone had seeped into his voice.

“Thanks for the ride, Zayn,” Rose granted as she went to open the car door. “I really appreciate it. I’d probably have gotten home at three in the morning, and my parents would have called in the National Guard to come find me.”

It just made sense to him that her family had those kinds of connections. “It’s no problem. I’m glad I found you.” After a short pause, he added, “And I’m sorry about your boyfriend. But if I were you, I’d dump his sorry ass. You’re far too beautiful and personable to put up with that shit.”

At his statement, her hand dropped from the handle of the door, turning to face him. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Zayn whispered, looking up at her under his dark lashes in a way he knew made girls crazy.

And although Rose was stronger than most girls, fighting hard with herself to resist the temptation incarnate that was Zayn Malik, she ended up falling under his spell.

One of her smooth, elegant hands looped behind Zayn’s head, pulling him toward her. At first, he wanted to tease her, to test how much she really wanted to kiss him, so he just pressed his lips against hers softly, drawing away after a second, only to repeat the process again. And even though it was killing him, he kept his hands at his sides, letting her direct the kiss, allowing her to feel more comfortable and certain that he wasn’t going to try to force her to do anything she wasn’t ready for.

“Zayn,” Rose breathed against his mouth, almost in a pleading way.

His heart started racing, his natural response to the sensual way she’d said his name. Not to mention it was the first time she’d ever said his name aloud.

Not able to hold himself back anymore, he pulled her over into his seat, putting her knees on either side of his hips so she straddled him. Their lips moved together in a slow, passionate rhythm, their tongues sliding against one another, just like in the movies.

Zayn had figured that Socs would probably be bad kissers, since they worked so hard to be cold and unfeeling. But he was either wrong, or Rose was far different than any other Soc.

Rose’s hands fell down to her sides, so Zayn took the opportunity to move his own up to her face, feeling the soft tendrils of her hair run through his fingers. God, she was incredible.

Just when Zayn started to think about pulling away, not wanting to spoil the progress they’d made, he felt fingers, warm to the touch, creeping up his torso. Zayn’s breath caught in his throat, shocked that she’d make such a bold move with a greaser.

Maybe, he thought, he had to get the greaser/Soc thing out of his head. It was pretty clear that the barrier wasn’t bothering Rose in the least, with the way she was kissing him, the way she was hinting that she wanted more. So why was it still nagging Zayn?

He shoved the thoughts out of his head and moved his hands from Rose’s face, wrapping them around her lower back, pressing her more closely against him.

She made a noise from deep down in her throat, and Zayn felt his body react, losing all sense of control.

Suddenly, just when Zayn was getting ready to untuck that shirt from her skirt to see just what she looked like underneath all her fancy clothes, Rose pulled away, kissing him one last time. “I’m sorry,” she rushed, climbing off him and fixing her skirt. “I can’t do this.”

“Why?” Zayn gasped, swallowing the feelings that he was fully prepared to spew in order to get her back on his lap or into the backseat. He needed her. He’d never wanted a girl so badly in his life before.

“Because I’m not this kind of person,” she whimpered. “This isn’t me. I have…I have to go. I’m sorry.”

And with that, she rushed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her in quite the same way Steve had earlier, when he’d stormed down the street angrily.

Zayn watched Rose as she walked into the house, noting the way her hips swung just slightly when she walked, her long hair following a similar route.

Once she disappeared, Zayn leaned his head back against his chair and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his sex-drive back down to normal. But the more he thought about the interaction, replaying the scene in his head, the way she felt against him, the harder it was to calm down. He almost had half a mind to go up to her door, knock, and then charge into her house, drag her into her bedroom, and take her like his body so desperately craved.

But he didn’t. He focused on his breathing, thought about things like the time he saw Dally smack a Soc across the face with a bit of lead pipe during a rumble, and his body went back to a normal state.

It was about fifteen minutes after the full encounter that he finally felt safe enough to pull out of her driveway, turning on his headlights as he made his way down the street.



All night, Zayn had dreams of alternate endings of the hot make-out session in his car with Rose. But what made him crazy was that every time Rose leaned down to whisper in Zayn’s ear that she wanted him to take her, have all of her, and she reached down to unbutton her shirt, he woke up. Without fail.

The sunlight poured through the window, rousing him once again from the world’s most perfect fantasy.

After going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth, he stumbled down the hallway, ready to find something to eat for breakfast.

Just when he was about to start going through the cabinets, he heard some stirring in the living room, followed by a very familiar voice yelling out, “Just me, Zayn.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at the sound of Two-Bit’s declaration. “Did your mom throw you out again?” he asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

“Yup. I was drunk off my ass last night, and she was afraid I’d give a bad impression on my little sister. So she told me to find somewhere else to sleep for the night. It was either you or the Curtises, but you were closer. So here I am.”

Zayn nodded. “Want anything to eat? I’m going to scramble some eggs.”

“Sure, thanks.” With that, Two-Bit got up and stalked off into the bathroom, his bare feet making loud padding noises against the hardwood floor.

As Zayn prepared breakfast, his mind kept slipping back to the feel of Rose’s face, how healthy her hair had felt, how perfectly she kissed. He’d never felt so strongly about a girl before, and although he kept telling himself it was only lust, there was a small part in the back of his brain that insisted it could have been more.

“Whoa, who’s the girl?” Two-Bit asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“What girl?” Zayn covered. “What are you talking about?”

“Man, you’re lookin’ out into the middle of nowhere, and the eggs in front of you are smoking. Clearly, there’s a girl involved.”

Zayn swore and threw the pan into the sink, immediately turning on the water, which exploded in a cloud of steam.

“Let’s go out for breakfast,” Zayn offered, walking toward the door and throwing on his jacket. “I’ll tell you there.”