Paranoia (Zayn Malik) (editing)

Chapter 16: The Date

Luna's POV

I stand in front of the full-length mirror, judging myself. The black skirt I wear shows off my legs, and the plain white top is tight and but is cropped under my breasts, leaving a strip of midriff on show. The neckline is slightly plunging, my collar bones on show, the small mark Zayn's lips gave me visible too. It's different from what I normally wear, but I think that's the point. I have envisioned outfits like this for myself often, but I've never had the opportunity to execute them.

My hair is down but pulled out of my face with a clip. My face remains mostly bare, but I have taken the liberty of putting a tiny bit of a pink blush onto my cheeks, as well as matching my bra to my underwear. One of those liberties is more innocent than the other, however.

My sexuality is something I've not even considered until this point and I've always expected any want to explore it to feel foreign, ladled with guilt and overly self-indulgent, but surprisingly, it sits right with me, innate and bubbling at the base of my stomach behind my navel.

A small rap on the door takes me out of my thoughts. I turn to open it and, of course, Zayn towers over me on the other side. He's shaved his raven locks and beard again, and I like this look on him. He wears a black shirt, the first few buttons undone and the arms rolled up to his elbows. Grey jeans cover his long legs and I find myself wishing he had more skin on show.

"Ready?" He rasps.

"To go downstairs? Yes." I huff, and I think I'm being snarky to hide my nerves.

"Don't underestimate me, Ghost." He pouts, reaching his hand out to me, adorned with silver rings the same colour as the ring in his left nostril. For a second, I don't know what to do with it, but eventually I take it, his long fingers wrapping around mine "You look nice."

"I think that's the first time you've ever complimented me in my six months of knowing you." I raise an eyebrow.

He wrinkles his nose at me "I don't think you've ever complimented me."

"Touche."

He leads me down the staircase, hand still gripping onto mine while my free one uses the silver bannister to steady me, nerves threatening to make my knees weak. I consider what we must look like, a couple. I struggle to picture us that way. When we reach the closed doors of the living room, he lets my hand go, turning to me.

"I don't know what is going to happen between us, I want you to know I don't have any expectations of tonight and if at any point you don't like what's happening, that's fine, you just tell me, OK?" His eyes search mine. I nod.

He presses down on the handle, opening the living room door and stepping aside for me to enter.

The room is dark, lit only by candles that are dotted around the room. The large coffee table is covered by a red table cloth, a single rose in a vase sat in the middle. Plates are set up on either side, a bag of Chinese takeaway sits in the middle. I turn my attention to the TV, displaying a playlist being cast to it. It reads 'Songs for Luna.'

He enters behind me, pulling his phone from his pocket and pressing the screen. Hijo de la Luna starts to play from the speakers.

"You made me a playlist?" I turn to him, fighting off a smile.

"I can be a teenage heartthrob when I want to be." He flashes his eyes, grinning and gesturing to the sofa "Shall we eat?"

I move to the sofa, sitting down in front of the coffee table "Takeaway?"

"I like you, Luna, that doesn't mean I can cook all of a sudden." He taunts, sitting next to me "Besides, it's your favourite."

"That it is." I nod slowly, feeling my cheeks heat up.