𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑...

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔

"Coco hated me for sure." Zayn laughed, his eyes crinkling as he took a slow sip of whiskey.

Guilty. That's what I was. I had told everyone I was fine with staying home on my birthday, but when 8 PM rolled around and I was still curled up on my couch, boredom crept in.

And then, as it always did when I was left alone with my thoughts, I started to overthink everything in my life.

That's when I remembered how I had blown up on Zayn earlier in the day, and I internally cringed. I hadn't meant to snap at him, I just let my emotions get the best of me, and unfortunately, he had been the first person in my line of fire.

It was a habit I was trying to break.

The guilt gnawed at me. So, in a moment of poor judgment and a glass of wine, I called him. I know, bad idea. But loneliness does things to a person.

Which is how I ended up here, in Zayn's penthouse, curled up on his couch, tipsy off wine.

To say it brought back memories would be an understatement. I vividly remembered the same thing happening on Zayn's 24th birthday. The circumstances were slightly different—we were in a "relationship" then, so there were no rules to break. But I've always believed birthdays should be celebrated on the day itself, and since Zayn had no plans, I made sure that changed.

I felt uneasy knowing that I was supposed to be with Devin, not sitting on another man's couch, seeking comfort where I shouldn't. But the truth was, I needed company. After spending all day alone, wondering if Devin was still mad at me, I needed something to take the edge off.

"She didn't hate you, she was just... aggressive."

Zayn rolled his eyes at my reasoning, making me giggle as I took another sip of wine.

Maybe "wine tipsy" wasn't the right phrase anymore. I was full-on wine drunk.

And Zayn? He wasn't far behind. He hadn't had much, just two glasses of whiskey, but it was strong. Strong enough that he was just as hazy as I was.

"You know..." Zayn started, his voice slurring slightly. I looked up at him, curious. "I couldn't believe you were actually going to celebrate your birthday alone."

"There was nothing to do." I said with a casual shrug, lifting my wine glass for another sip before setting it down. Sinking deeper into the couch, I let the warmth of the alcohol settle in.

Zayn arched a brow, his voice laced with skepticism. "So that was enough to break whatever superstition you have about spending birthdays alone?"

I shrugged again, struggling to find the right words, or maybe just too foggy in the head to care. My gaze drifted to Zayn, who was sitting on the other end of the couch, not far from me. He was slouched comfortably, one leg propped up, angled toward me.

The silence between us was comfortable, familiar. We didn't need to fill it with words, somehow, we just understood each other. It was one of those little things between Zayn and I.

"Let's watch a movie." Zayn announced suddenly, pushing himself up from the couch, only to wobble slightly from the alcohol. I couldn't help but laugh.

He shot me a half-hearted glare before grabbing the remote from the side table and flopping back down. Turning the TV on, he glanced at me, tilting his head slightly, a silent request for my input.

"I don't know..." I trailed off, thinking. Then, as an idea struck, I nearly jumped out of my seat.

Zayn flinched. "Jesus—what?"

"Sorry. What about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?"

Zayn's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. His reaction was instant—violent head-shaking, as if I'd just suggested the worst possible option.

"Nope. No. Absolutely not," he declared, shaking his head like a stubborn five-year-old. "Order of the Phoenix is the worst one in the series."

"What? It's the best one!" I argued back, slightly getting up from my slumped position on the couch.

"No it's not. Sirius Black dies!"

"Besides that part—"

"You can't say 'besides that part.' That part ruins the whole film!" he huffed, looking personally offended. "Half-Blood Prince is the best. Not up for debate."

I scoffed, barely holding back a laugh. "Oh, please. You only like it because that's the year everyone got horny."

His mouth fell open in shock. For a split second, the room was silent, until we both burst into uncontrollable laughter. I wasn't sure why it was so funny, but the alcohol definitely played a role.

The laughter kept coming, filling the room with an almost surreal energy. It was clear now that this wasn't just from our own humor; it was the booze talking.

I tilted my head back, feeling the giggles take over, and then—bam. My head collided with the lamp sitting on the side table on my end of the couch.

The laughter abruptly stopped. I winced, rubbing the back of my head, while Zayn froze for a second, eyes wide. Then, without skipping a beat, he scrambled up from his side of the couch and plopped down next to me.

"Shit... are you okay?" Zayn asked, his voice full of concern as he placed his hand on my knee and tried to check the back of my head, but I didn't respond.

Instead, I locked eyes with him and, to my horror, and his, I started laughing again.

It was pretty obvious, that I was the laughter drunk.

But thank God Zayn was, too.

The moment I started laughing, Zayn joined in, his hand landing on my shoulder as he leaned his head into it, both of us now wobbling in our drunken state. I pressed my hand to his chest, trying to hold it together, but it was no use. The more we laughed, the worse it got.

"You're terrible." Zayn said, still chuckling between words. "It's a kids' movie, for God's sake!"

I gasped for air, wiping tears from my eyes. "Says you." I shot back. "You said Gru from Despicable Me was—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, please." Zayn groaned out, fingertips on the temple of his forehead. "I was high out of my mind that night."

"I won't bring it up if you put on the Order of the Phoenix."

Zayn groaned dramatically, shaking his head. "Fine." He grumbled after a beat. "I'll put it on, but only because it's your birthday."

I smirked triumphantly, but Zayn's response was swift, he flipped me off. Without hesitation, I swatted his hand down, still grinning.

As the opening credits rolled, I curled up deeper into the couch, hugging a pillow against my chest. Zayn let out a dramatic sigh beside me, sinking into his seat as if watching this movie was the ultimate sacrifice.

But then, out of nowhere, Zayn shot upright, twisting his entire body to look at the clock on the wall.

"Fuck." He muttered underneath his breath.

I frowned, turning my attention to him. His expression had shifted from playful annoyance to genuine distress.

"What happened?" I asked, sitting up slightly.

"It's almost eleven. Your birthday ends in an hour, and we still haven't celebrated it."

As I processed his words, I nearly laughed at how distressed he looked over something so small. But then I realized, he was completely serious. His brows were furrowed, his jaw set.

My eyes widened slightly. "Zayn, it's fine. I didn't even plan on celebrating—"

"No." He cut in, already pushing himself off the couch. "We have to."

He glanced around the living room like he was searching for something, anything, that could count as a celebration. His eyes darted to the kitchen, and before I could say another word, he was already moving.

I watched as he made his way toward the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. Curious, I followed, leaning against the kitchen island as I watched him pull open cabinets and rummage through the fridge. His movements quick and slightly frantic, like a man on a mission.

I noticed how empty his kitchen was, he had almost nothing in his cabinets or fridge. It figured, Zayn had a massive penthouse but couldn't be bothered to stock it with groceries. A very Zayn thing to do.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he continued searching, his muttered curse words filling the quiet kitchen.

"Zayn it's fine... you really don't have too—"

"Got it!" He suddenly announced, straightening up from where he had been crouched near the lower cabinets.

I raised a brow as he placed a matchbox on the counter like it was some grand discovery. Before I could question him, he was back at it, searching for something else. His eyes scanned the kitchen once more before he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Defeat flickered across his face for half a second, until something in the fridge caught his attention. He perked up, reaching inside and pulling out a carton of strawberries.

Zayn grabbed a single strawberry from the pack, his face lighting up. I watched, amused, as he carefully placed it next to the matchbox on the counter.

"I didn't know you were coming, so I didn't really have time to prepare." Zayn admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

That's okay." I reassured him. I hadn't expected him to do anything at all. Just having company tonight was more than enough.

A laugh bubbled out of me as he stuck the match into the strawberry, positioning it like a candle, but he didn't light it probably realizing it would burn out in seconds.

"I know it's definitely not as good as the minion cake." He joked, rubbing a hand over the faint scruff on his face, looking almost nervous.

"I love it." I said softly, grinning as I clasped my hands together. When I finally looked up from the strawberry, I found Zayn already watching me, a small smile in his face.

For all the ways this night hadn't gone as planned, for all the things I had told myself I wouldn't do, I couldn't deny the warmth spreading through me. It didn't matter how last-minute it was, how ridiculous it sounded that my 24th birthday "cake" was a matchstick stuck into a strawberry, or that I was spending it with Zayn Malik, the one person I swore I wouldn't get entangled with again.

But what did matter was his effort, no matter how simple, made something inside me soften. The way he looked at me, like he actually cared. The way, despite everything, our past, our mistakes, our hi온라인카지노게임, I felt less alone tonight.

"I'm sorry for blowing up on you earlier," I sighed, the guilt settling heavier in my chest. I'd already apologized, but sitting here now, seeing the effort he was putting into making me feel better, it just didn't seem like enough.

I felt like a horrible person.

Zayn exhaled before speaking. "It's fine, Vienna. You already said—"

"But it's not fine." I shook my head, pressing my hands against my temples. "You didn't make my relationship with Devin rocky."

Zayn only nodded.

I swallowed, hesitating before adding, "I like being friends with you, Zayn."

The moment the word friends left my mouth, I saw it, the tiny flicker of something in his expression, the way his jaw tensed, the slight twitch of his fingers. He flinched.

I tried to push the thought away, pretend I didn't notice, pretend I didn't know exactly why he reacted that way. But I did.

He might not be in a relationship anymore, but I was. And the last thing I would ever do in a relationship was be unfaithful. Maybe Devin would say the things I'd done recently were toeing the line, but I had boundaries. I knew where the line was.

"I'm glad Devin gives you everything I couldn't. You deserve it." Zayn exhaled, his voice quieter when he finally spoke.

I blinked. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one of them.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us felt hot. Whether from the alcohol, the quietness of the penthouse, or just the ridiculousness of the situation, I wasn't sure.

"Well let's not have this amazing cake go to waste." Zayn said, clearing his throat, breaking the silence.

"You didn't even light it." I let out a soft laugh, glancing down at the match precariously sticking out of the strawberry.

"Yeah, well..." He started with a smirk. "If I light it, you'll have about three seconds to make a wish before it burns out. And if it catches anything else on fire, that's a whole other problem."

"So what, I just tell you when I'm ready?" I smiled, shaking my head.

"Exactly." He leaned forward, matchbox in hand. "But make it fast, I'm kind of attached to my home."

I bit my lip, glancing down at the makeshift cake. It was ridiculous, really. But somehow, this moment felt more special than any extravagant birthday celebration I'd ever had.

Alright." I exhaled, straightening up. "I'm ready."

Zayn took a lighter out of his pocket and lit it up, a small flame flickered to life. He carefully held it to the matchstick sticking out of the strawberry, watching as it caught fire.

"Make a wish." He murmured.

I hesitated, staring at the tiny flame. What was I even supposed to wish for? For things to be easier? For my relationship with Devin to stop feeling like walking on eggshells? For whatever this thing between me and Zayn was to disappear?

Or for it to stay?

I swallowed hard and shut my eyes, pushing the thought away as I silently made my wish. Then, in one soft breath, I blew out the flame.

Zayn watched me, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to figure out what I wished for.

"What'd you wish for?" Zayn asked, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not telling you. Then it won't come true." I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the counter.

He chuckled, tossing the burnt-out match into the sink. "Fine. I'll just assume you wished for a better birthday cake next year."

"Honestly? I think this is the best birthday cake I've ever had."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Now I know you're lying."

"I'm serious!"

He just looked at me, really looked at me. Like he didn't quite believe me, like he wanted to say something but was holding himself back.

"Well, happy 24th birthday Vienna. I hope I made yours better... like you did mine."

You did. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to say it out loud, to let him know that this stupid strawberry with a matchstick, this entire night, meant more to me than he probably realized.But I didn't.

Instead, I just smiled at him, hoping, praying, that somehow, he'd understand without me having to say it.

And when his lips curved into a small smile in return, when his eyes softened just the slightest bit, I knew that he did.

That was all it took for warmth to crawl up my neck, settling in my cheeks. I quickly looked away, grabbing my drink to distract myself, but the moment was still there between us.

Before I could dwell on it any longer, Zayn suddenly plucked the strawberry from the counter and popped it into his mouth, chewing like he hadn't just stolen my birthday cake.

"Zayn!" I gasped, shoving his arm. "That was my birthday cake!"

He laughed, stepping back before I could swat at him again. "I made it, so technically, I get half."

"You literally just ate the whole thing."

"Fine, fine." He grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. "I owe you a real birthday cake. You can redeem it whenever."

"Even an Order of the Phoenix-themed birthday cake?"

Zayn groaned, already regretting his words.

"Oh, fuck off."

©𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞