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Missed Calls

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1 year, two months and five days.

That was how long we were together when Zayn asked me to move in with him.

            “Move in with me.” He said out of the blue one late morning as I was sitting on the side of the bed, tugging my tank top over my head, getting ready to head out after a full evening of lazy love-making.

I glanced back at him, scoffing. “Yeah, uh huh, alright.” I had assumed he was only joking, and didn’t bother really looking at him until he said,

“I’m serious, love. Move in with me.”

This time, I turned to look at him. He was sitting up, still naked between the sheets, and if I’d had more time, I would have taken a moment to inspect him in all his glory, like how his olive skin contrasted the clean ivory of the crisp sheets we’d messed up in our activities. His dark gaze was looking at me, his brows furrowed and that was how I was sure he was serious, but it didn’t stop me from still asking, “A-are you sure?”

He nodded, moving to wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me towards him. “Of course I am. You’re basically here more than you are home anyway, right? Even when I’m gone, so why not?” He said before beginning to press kisses to my bare shoulder, moving up towards my neck. I giggled at the kisses before looking at him and finally saying, “Alright, okay… I guess I could move in with you.”

He smiled at me and took my face in his hands, kissing me gently on the lips. I kissed him back, breaking away to smile as he freed a hand to run through my messy hair. “I love you.” He said softly.

“I love you too.” I replied, and kissing him again, it was the last thing either of us said for awhile…

             Within weeks, I was packing my things and bringing them across London to move into his flat. And after that, it took a few more weeks to unpack.

            One night, with my boxes still all around, we sat on the floor of the dining room (Zayn had only lived at the flat a few months himself and had yet to buy any proper dining room furniture), eating Chinese food from the cartons.

Zayn was looking around, smiling at nothing. Around a mouthful of General Tso’s, I smirked at him. “What are you smiling at?”

“The boxes. It just really solidifies for me what’s happening.” He said, looking at me, still grinning like a fool. He put down his own carton of mu-shu pork and grabbed my hands in his. “Babe, it’s just another chapter for us, you know?”

I nodded. “It is.” I freed one of my hands to reach for my red solo cup filled with champagne, one of the only things Zayn had in his fridge (considering he was gone for too long to really leave anything else in there aside from liquor) and held it up. “To another chapter.”

He let go of my hands to take his cup. “To another chapter.” He repeated, and clinking cups, we drank and everything seemed perfect.

The next afternoon, Zayn caught me by surprise once I got home from work. He was laying on the couch, looking at his phone, scrolling through Twitter.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked him and he looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey yourself. How was work?” He asked, putting his phone down on his stomach.

“Fine. I just missed you.” I sighed, “I really hate Mondays. Why can’t we just have the weekend forever and ever?”

Zayn reached up, grabbing my arms and pulling me towards him. “I don’t know.” He responded, as I came over the back of the couch to lie on top of him. His hands beginning to idly rub my sides as he said, “I think we have weekdays because everyone needs to do something, you know? There needs to be balance between what we have to do and what we want to do.”

I pressed a kiss to his nose. “Why do you have to be so damn smart, Zayn?” I asked with a chuckle. He smiled, shrugging his shoulders carefully.

“I guess it’s just part of the charm.”

I laughed, beginning to get up of the couch, but Zayn grabbed at my waist. “Hey, what’s your hurry?”

“I need to shower.” I told him, reaching to remove his hands. “It’s hot out today.”

He smirked, “At least let me join you.” Laughing, I stood up, grabbing his hands and pulling him down the hallway with me, leaving his phone neglected on the couch.

In the shower stall, I had Zayn pressed up against the shower wall, all of our clothes still on as we kissed and kissed until Zayn accidentally turned the shower on. Laughing, he began to kiss his way down my neck until he pulled back, helping me take my wet shirt off. I leapt into his arms, as we continued to kiss, forgetting about everything else, and feeling like it was only us left in the world…

            It began with the long nights, right after I moved in and before he left for tour. He’d be either in studio all day, every day of the week or rehearsing with the boys, only coming home at crazy hours of the morning if at all.

After how long we’d been together, you would think I would be used to the crazy hours that came before the tours, but at the time when we began dating, he was already on tour.

You see, when we met, he was in my hometown of Vancouver, Canada, performing to a sold-out crowd and I was just a girl in the audience…

It was that particular space in time I was thinking about when I waited up for Zayn one night, hoping to just have a chance to talk for the first time in weeks.

            By a set of events that still amazed me to this day, my best friend and I had managed to get seats in the first couple of rows at the concert. And it was by happenstance that Zayn saw me in the crowd, during his solo in ‘More Than This’, that he chose me to sing to, reaching towards me and taking my hands and looking down at me with those perfect, soulful brown eyes that I couldn’t look away from. And it was then that it was like time stopped.

No longer could I hear the screaming fans, the backup vocals of the other boys, or even the background music to the song. All I could hear, see and feel was Zayn in front of me. And that was it.

I was suddenly shaken from my thoughts as I hear the front door open and close, Zayn sigh as he kicked off his shoes, drop his keys in the basket before heading towards our bedroom, only to pause when he saw me sitting on the couch.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late? I thought I told you not to wait for me.” He said, coming to sit down beside me.

“Well, I‘ve missed you and it’s not like we’ve had a chance to sit and talk for awhile, so…” I gestured to us as I spoke and he sighed again, running a free hand over his already messy hair.

“I know, love, but I’m absolutely knackered and I have to get some sleep before I go back to studio tomorrow.” He said, looking at me almost pleadingly. “Can we do this later? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

And we never did get the chance to talk until one night, a few days later.

            My phone rang as soon as I stepped into the apartment from another long, tiring day at work. Knowing it was Zayn, I answered. “Hey, sweetie, where are you?”

“Yeah, love, I’m not coming home tonight. The lads and I just found out we’re going on tour starting this weekend.”

“This weekend? Are you kidding me? I thought we were going to have a weekend of staying in, remember? Just you and me for once?” I respond, angry and stressed out.

He sighs, “I can’t do this right now.”

“Zayn Javaad Malik, don’t you hang up on me. I need to talk to you. We need to sort this!” I yell and the line disconnects and I’m stuck listening to the dial tone…

It is after that phone call, Zayn and I didn’t talk until the night he left.

            I’m in tears as he’s shrugging an Adidas bag over his shoulder, and double-checking on his two other suitcases. A taxi is waiting downstairs and I’m sobbing. “Zayn, don’t go.”

“I have to, babe.” He says, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then my lips as the taxi driver honks impatiently. “I love you. And I’ll call soon, I promise.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry. Come back soon.” I manage to say in between my tears. I watch him step onto the elevator with his luggage and disappear from view as the elevator doors close.

The first time I tell him I’m done is a month later.

I don’t know what caused me to snap the way I did, maybe it was the stress of moving across London, the stress of my job or just a combination of all of it, but when Zayn called me from Berlin that fateful day, I was at the office, standing outside and smoking a cigarette.

“I miss you so much, love, and I’m sorry we didn’t get to sort things before I left.” He was saying and I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“I don’t know if I can handle this.”

There was some hesitation on his part, before he responded, “Are you finishing with me? Just over this stupid little spat we had weeks ago?”

“I don’t know, Zayn.” I sigh, flicking my ash from my cigarette towards the curb. “But I’m starting to think we need a break.”

He chokes out a dry laugh. “A break? Are you shitting me?”

“No. No I’m not.” I say and hang up.

It is shortly thereafter we stop speaking for a while.

I stopped answering his calls and texts, e-mails, Skype messages, all of it. I threw myself into work and my few friends.

“Have you heard from Zayn?” Amy asked and I shook my head, sipping my Cosmopolitan.

“No. He stopped trying to get in touch with me a few days ago.” I shrugged. “I guess that means it’s done.”

“Well, what are you going to do? Move out?”

“I don’t know.”

But mere days after that, I came down with what I thought was the flu and stayed home from work…

I was surfing the web, checking the One Direction tag on Tumblr when I found a video of the boys performing in Berlin from a few nights before. Pressing play, I watch as Zayn kills his solo before looking over at Liam. I don’t need the comments on the video to tell me what’s on his mind.

I already know that he is sad. He’s missing me.

I find myself thinking about the last few weeks. And how stupid I have been, being so mad about something so miniscule and unimportant. My pride’s gotten in the way of what’s in front of me.

And then, I suddenly find myself wondering if it’s PMS. Only to realize I haven’t had my period yet…

            Rushing to the closest store, I keep counting in my head from the last time Zayn and I had sex and the last time I had my period. Five weeks, six weeks, seven weeks? I don’t know. My mind’s running a mile a minute as I stare at the choices before me, selecting a few random ones off the shelf.

I buy them hastily, trying to get out of there before I get recognized. Along with the tests, I grab some ginger ale, crackers and a few stupid magazines to bide the time with.

            As soon as I get home, I do the tests and wait. It is the longest five minutes of my life…

Now, here I am. In Munich, Germany, standing outside of Zayn’s hotel room door, prepared to knock and tell him what I need to say. What I need to get off my chest and to apologize…

Biting down on my lower lip, I raise my hand and knock on the door. It opens to reveal him standing there and when he sees me, a look of pure shock crosses his countenance before he smiles, a little sadly. “Hey.” I manage. “Can I come in?”

He lets me in, wordlessly and I sit on the edge of the bed, putting my bags at my feet. He sits down beside me, about to speak when I say, “No, no, don’t say anything. I need to explain.” He closes his mouth, then nods, allowing me to continue.

“I came here, because, first and foremost, I wanted to say I’m sorry for not getting in touch with you lately. I just… I’ve kinda been freaking out over all the things that have been going on. With us moving in together and my work. It’s all been pretty crazy.” Sighing, I look down at my hands. “But I don’t want us to fight anymore. I just wanna be with you and that’s it. It’s hard, I get it, but I wanna work on it and I know from here on out, it’s only going to get harder.”

He’s looking at me seriously, listening and I take a deep breath before I finally spit it out.

“Zayn, I’m pregnant.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED