After about an hour of lying on the balcony, it grew chilly and the cold nipped at my toes. I carried Zayn, who still hadn't woken up, in my arms back to his bedroom. I set him down and tucked him under the covers, and he inherently latched onto the blankets around him. I repressed a laugh as I snuck out of his room, unheard.
I grabbed my phone off of the couch; it must have slipped out of my pockets earlier. The screen lit up as I pressed the Home button, and there were three missed calls from Amy. I figured that if Amy attempted to contact me three times, it must've been something urgent. I stepped into the hall as I dialed her number. She picked up after the first ring.
"Liam!" she yelled into my ear. "You finally answered! And just in time! Listen, can you watch Jackson for a few hours tonight? I know its sudden but—"
"Amy," I said, "I can't. I'm with Zayn right now."
"What? Oh hey did you two work things out? Great, Jackson misses him too. I'll be over in a few! Thanks!" she hung up before I could object any further.
I sighed into the phone and glanced down the hall to where footsteps could now be heard. I saw the bald head of a dark-skinned man, and retreated back to Zayn's apartment within seconds.
"Shit," I swore under my breath. There was no doubt he was coming here, where else would he be going? There was a pounding on the door and I raced to the bedroom to get Zayn, as if that would solve anything. I shook him lightly and he slowly came to.
"Zayn," I whispered to him, "Your dad is here…"
"Mmm, what?" he yawned. "My dad? Oh, shit…"
"What?" I asked.
"Did he come by earlier?" he sat up and stretched his arms. Why was I the only one so nervous?
"I don't know, someone knocked on the door, but I didn't answer it."
"We were supposed to go shopping for a car later; he was going to split the payment with me." He rubbed sleep from his eyes and squinted in the dark, looking up at me. "Don't worry," he said, standing and resting a hand on my back. "Just wait here, I'll get him to leave."
The pounding from the other room was loud still, and rang throughout Zayn's flat. A click could be heard and the door slid across the hardwood floor.
"Where have you been?" his father asked, angry and gruff.
"I've been sleeping…" Zayn said. "I'm sorry, can we just go another time?"
"I finally find a day off for you and this is how you treat me. Ungrateful little prick…" Yaser mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Zayn snapped. "You know, lately, I've been getting tired of your bullshit. I let you back into my life because I thought you missed me, thought you cared. But I'm starting to think that I should've just shoved you away like you did to me, dad." His words were cold.
"You—"
"No; I don't give a flying fuck what you have to say right now! I'm tired, and beyond irritated at what you've caused."
There was a long, drawn-out pause between the two of them.
"You know what." There was a sting and a venom in Zayn's voice that I had never heard from him before as the door slammed.
He appeared in the bedroom seconds later, his lips downward and a crease in his forehead.
"God, I don't know what to do with him anymore. He's just gotten worse lately…"
"What do you mean?"
"Ever since, you know." He motioned with his hands back and forth between the two of us. I held a puzzled look on my face until he continued. "Ever since we broke up, he's been far more demanding. He thinks he can order me around…like he…owns me or something."
"What are you going to do?" I pecked him on the lips, swinging his arms from side to side.
"No idea. But I'll worry about it later, yeah?"
"Right. Do you want me to make you some tea, or coffee or something?"
"I could use some tea. You know how I like it."
He was right; I knew exactly how he liked his tea. Steaming hot and tainted with cream and sugar until its color was that of beige, rather than the deep brown it originally came. I got started right away, heating up the water on the stove in one of his many tea kettles. A ringtone of Adele's Set Fire to the Rain chimed from the couch and Zayn examined the number.
"It's Amy," he said, holding my phone out to me.
"Can you get it for me?" I asked, completely forgetting that I was to babysit tonight. The kettle whistled on the stove as Zayn answered the phone.
"Hello? No, this is Zayn. Liam? Yeah, he's with me. What—no, he's at my flat. Across the hall. Yeah, that one." He hung up the phone and turned to me, an eyebrow raised.
"So we're playing babysitter tonight?" he asked. "Would've been nice to know."
Nothing eventful happened the rest of the evening. Jackson was dropped off, and Zayn and I watched him for a few hours before Amy came back to pick him up. She thanked us before she left, walking swiftly down the hallway. I spent the night at Zayn's, eventually falling asleep at some time in the wee hours of the evening.
***Six Months Later***
It had been eleven months since Zayn and I began dating, and that meant our One Year Anniversary was coming up.
A whole year. I never thought I would be so in love with anyone for such a long time. The way I felt about Zayn never diminished; in fact, it was quite the opposite. I found my affection for him growing with each passing day. We had moved in together, him moving out of his apartment across the hall to mine. The bill was split every month between the two of us, of course, and it was quite enjoyable living with him. There were so many new quirks I discovered about him in the process. Birthdays came and gone for both of us, I now twenty, Zayn twenty-one.
Although, all of that came after Zayn's father was forced back to Bradford by the government, after finding out he was living in the States illegally. The funny thing was—however bad it sounds—is that Zayn himself turned his father in. It was a long story with too many details interwoven throughout its complex plot, and I skipped over it in my mind, returning to the idea of a One Year Anniversary.
My brain drew nothing but a blank as I pondered what to get him for a gift. I already had dinner planned at a restaurant called the Gabriella Café. It certainly wasn't some extravagant and over-the-top cuisine, but as I learned, Santa Cruz wasn't known for luxurious and ravishing dining, either. It had received good reviews online, though, and it was a place Zayn had always wanted to try.
Suddenly, a crazy—insane, even—idea sprung in my mind, and I was out the door in seconds.
The day of our anniversary came faster than I ever imagined, and my palms were sweaty as I waited for Zayn to get home from work. The door opened, and he stepped in, a grin plastered across his face.
"Hey," he said, still smiling as he made his way to me and pecked me on the lips. "Let me go change and then we'll head out." He strutted off into the bedroom, and was out minutes later. He was in a white button-down shirt (white looked stunning on him) and his nicest pair of jeans was on. We had both decided not to dress too formal for the occasion; I in a black button-down shirt, and a pair of jeans as well.
It took us about fifteen minutes to arrive at the restaurant, and the woman at the front desk guided us to our table for the evening. We looked over the menu, and ordered our meals. Our waitress grabbed them, smiled, and walked off.
"I love you," I said, resting my chin in the palm of my hand.
His nose crinkled a bit before he replied, "I love you too," and took my hand in his. "Li," he said, "Your hand is so clammy. Are you all right?"
My heart began to beat faster and faster and I worried that Zayn could hear the drumming within my chest.
"It's just…one whole year, you know? It's a long time. And every day, and I mean every day, I just fall in love with you more and more."
"You're so cheesy," he chuckled. "But your romanticism is what makes you so adorable."
Our waitress set the dishes down on the table, steam spewing out of the foods that sat upon them. Everything seemed to be going well; food was here, Zayn was happy, I was happy, and he hadn't questioned my strange demeanor too much. He grinned up at me after his first bite, jaw clenching as he chewed. That was one of the great things about him; how his whole face exuded a joy that was like no other when he smiled.
"This is delicious," he said between his next bite, and then slid it in with his fork.
"It really is," I agreed.
The rest of the evening was perfect. We both devoured our meals like animals, stomachs brimming with delectable food. We chatted even after our meal was over, sitting at the table like love-struck fools. When the waitress finally pestered us to leave (the restaurant was filling up and tables were needed), we left the café.
"I'm in the mood for coffee," I told him, falling into the seat of the driver's side of my car, flaring up the ignition.
"I could use one, too," he said. "I'm going to need the energy for later," he winked. I laughed at his sexual innuendo and drove to the Starbucks nearest our apartment complex.
The winds were cold as we stepped out onto the streets of Santa Cruz, gazing at the tall, colorful buildings. By day, it was certainly not a beautiful piece of landscape, but by night, the shadows casted by the glows and flashing hues of the city lights were beyond anything I had ever seen. I paused, tugging at Zayn's arm to stop and enjoy the view with me. He wrapped his arms around my torso, his warm breath tickling my neck.
"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked.
"I've seen better," he said.
I twisted out of his arms and faced him, a look of disbelief spread across my face.
"No you haven't," I accused. "Where?"
"Li, I was referring to you…" he said, holding back laughter. "You're such a dork," he punched my arm playfully. He cracked, his low voice rumbling through the night and getting lost in the sounds of the city. I joked along with him, hand now rubbing the dark velvet box that sat in my pocket. It felt leaden and heavy, and it struck me that it was time to introduce my real anniversary gift. The moment I had been waiting so long for.
But how did I do it? What did I say? I had seen it happen in movies a million times, so why was I freezing up now? What if he said no? Oh god, what if he said no…
"Li," his voice shocked me back to reality. "You coming inside or not?" He held the door open, a quizzical look on his face.
"Wait, Zayn, come here." I said, my tone growing serious. He picked up on it, obviously—he always did—and walked over to me cautiously.
"I can't believe I'm doing this, Zayn…" I paused. His face contorted with worry, dreadful of what he thought was coming next.
"Oh my god, you're breaking up with me, aren't you? Oh my god."
"Zayn, no!" I exclaimed. "No, not at all…I-just…" I exhaled a deep breath.
"C'mon, Li, you can tell me anything." He lifted my chin with his fingers and held my gaze, restoring my confidence fully. My legs stopped shaking, my hands stopped trembling. I reached for the box in my pocket, securing my grasp around it. Here goes, I thought.
I brought the box out of my pocket as my knee drifted toward the ground, leg outstretched and heel scraping the concrete. I unclasped my hand, the small black object now in sight. I popped the top up, the hinges clicking into place. A round, silver ring sat in its center, glittering in the radiant lights.
Zayn's hand traveled up to his mouth, covering it incredulously.
"Zayn, I want to spend the rest of my life with you…so…will you marry me?" I asked.
Pause.
"Yes! Oh, God, yes, Li!" he yelled, smashing his body and his lips against mine as I stood up. There were a few whistles and cheers from several of the people that passed by as Zayn twirled me in his arms. My feet lifted from the ground, committing to memory the happiest day of my life. Once he set me down, I slid the ring across his finger.
"It's a perfect fit," he said. "I love you," his voice was exasperated and his tone loving. I could see in his eyes the excitement he felt by the way they shone in the night. He kissed me once, twice, three times before pulling his face from mine, still holding it in his hands.
"I was so afraid you would say no," I told him.
"Actually," he said, laughing nervously, "I was thinking the same thing." He pulled from his pants a box similar to mine, and it made the same click sound as it opened. I gasped as he slid the ring over my finger; he really did want to marry me. My eyes were blurred with tears and a few slipped across my cheek, Zayn wiping them away with his thumb.
"Hey, don't cry…" he said, comforting me.
"I'm just so happy," I sniffled.
Zayn and I were getting married.
