Have you ever experienced walking into a public facility where as soon as you stepped in, all eyes were set on you?
Guess what? I'm living that exact experience right now.
Well, "we" are living that exact experience right now.
"This is a bad idea," I whispered to Zayn as we both entered target with our party clothes still on.
Since it was already late, there were only a few people shopping in the store. The staff also wasn't that huge, but I couldn't just shake their gaze on me like I was some kind of ghost.
"I know," he whispered back. "We should have at least changed into something before we drove here." He added, looking as uncomfortable as I was.
Zayn is someone's who's been under the blinding lights of the spotlight.
He was into modeling during his teenage years, and when he started his own businesses, every news and media company in the city was interested in him. This guy has literally posed in front of the camera in only his boxers and I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction to a few people and retail staff looking at him oddly because he's wearing a Burberry suit in a shopping facility with a blonde woman in a petite party dress.
"Hush, don't laugh," he said, slipping an arm around my waist. "Let's just grab a cart and get the hell out of here." He whispered in my ear.
As we walked over to where the carts were, the feeling of guilt quickly spread throughout my entire body. If it wasn't for the man who brought him into this world, my family would still be alive by now.
I also hated the fact that I love the feeling of his hand around my waist.
It felt good and bad at the same time.
I just have no idea why.
"Do you want to push the cart, or do you want to get on the cart?" He asked, looking at me up and down.
This is exactly why I hate going shopping.
I literally look like a kid who got separated from her mother.
"I'm not that short!" I defended almost yelling at him. "Emphasize anything about my height again, and I would literally use this cart to ship your body to the morgue after I murder you." I threatened glaring at him.
He laughed at that.
"Shortstack," he murmured under his breath but I totally heard him
Oh, he's so dead now.
Taking the cart from his hold, I pushed it at him with all the force that I had, making him stumble a few feet backward. I may not have that much muscle, but I can be a little beast when I'm pissed.
And this asshole just got me pissed.
As Zayn regained his balance, he pushed the cart back to me and grinned like the devil.
And when I looked into his eyes, I knew that I was doomed.
"Better run now, honey," he said. "You're on it." He added.
Taking his hint, I grabbed the cart from him and started running into a different aisle.
Zayn, being Zayn, waited for me to disappear out of his sight first before charging in my direction.
The two of us spent the next fifteen minutes chasing each other around the store while putting random objects in our cart. The target staff were already starting to get annoyed by us, but it seemed like one of them knew who Zayn was, so none of them really did anything.
By the time we were done, the two of us were a panting mess.
Screw PE class.
This is going to be my daily exercise.
As Zayn and I were unloading our stuff at the register, the cashier eyed our items suspiciously.
"Spray paints, glitters, and eggs?" He asked as if he still hadn't figured it out yet.
I mentally rolled my eyes at that.
"Yes," I responded, crossing my arms above my chest. "Spray paints, glitters, and eggs." I added raising an eyebrow at him, while Zayn just stifled a laugh and took out his wallet.
Shaking his head, the suspicious cashier just went on to check out our items. After we paid everything, the two of us immediately ran out of the store as if we were being chased by six dogs and a wolf.
When we made it to his car, Zayn drove us to this rich neighborhood right along Central Park and after pulling off at one of the houses on the side of the road, I almost instantly jumped out of the car. The drive wasn't clearly fast since we were driving on one of the roads of the city that never sleeps, and Zayn doesn't really like to drive with his window open.
I'm just not sure why I haven't died of suffocation yet.
"Is this his house or something?" I asked, looking at the modern, single-story house in front of me.
"Sort of," Zayn answered. "Let's go. We're heading through the back door. He's probably still at that stupid party." He added, hoisting our stuff out of the car before leading us into the back side of the property.
"Oh shit, I don't have my pocket knife with me," I said once the back door came into view.
But instead of showing me signs of worry and distress, Zayn just smirked.
"It's locked, but we don't need to break in like that," he said pushing his long hair back "There's a doggy door. I'm sure that you'll fit perfectly there." He added.
Offended, I scoffed.
"There's no way that I'm going there," I refused. "And you're an asshole." I added slapping him by the arm.
"Oh, come on," he urged rubbing his probably sore arm. "I'll do whatever you want if you slide on that thing and open that door for me. A favor for a favor "It's a win-win." He added, playing with his keychain.
This is one of the most common mistakes that people make when they want something from me. Having a deal with me is like having a deal with the devil. I would always make sure that I get the most out of everything.
I mean— sliding into that stupid door would be an insult. But in exchange for Zayn Harold's complete obedience? I'm willing to be a complete dog the entire night for that.
Okay, I was exaggerating.
Clearly, there's just no way that I'm going to say pass to this offer.
Be my guest then," I said, pushing him off the way.
Once I finally made my way to where the door was, I immediately crouched down to see if it was open.
And it was.
Looking back at Zayn who was still walking towards me, I smiled.
"A fair warning, though: you are so going to regret this." I added giving him a side-look before getting on all fours and crawling my way inside the house.
It was dark inside, but since the surrounding streets were properly lit, I immediately saw the doorknob. Mike Henderson probably thought that his neighborhood was safe.
Idiot. I thought to myself.
Twisting the knob, I pulled the door open for Zayn to come through.
"Close the door," he whispered once he was inside. "A guard roams around this area during the night." He added as I closed the door behind him.
"Hand me the spray paint," I said, extending my palm in front of him. "We'll start with the living room." I added while he reached out to the plastic bag and handed me what I was asking for.
"This is exactly why you're never going to be Maya's teacher," he joked, although I could tell that there was some truth in there. "You're an angel in disguise." He added pinching my cold cheek.
Slapping his hand away, I turned around and started walking towards the path that led to what seemed to be the living room.
I've accepted the fact that Maya's out of my plans— like four hours ago, and I literally don't need a reminder of that.
"Not counting on it, chief," I saluted raising my middle finger in the air. "Let's just rain on this bastard's parade." I added, throwing the spray paint in the air and catching it before it hits the ground.