The next morning it felt like a rush of mixed emotions, from waking to feeling puzzled from the intense hangover she had from the night before. Looking to her right she felt a strong grip on her waist as if he was scared she might fall over during the night, but the slow, steady breathing seems to have her in a calm state. As she was about to sit up, a throbbing pain on her left side made her wince. She froze, trying to piece together the night in fragments, the sound of rain against the window, Zayne's steady breathing, the way her heartbeat had slowed under his hand, but now in the light, everything felt felt too real.
The scent of his cologne clung to her skin, the warmth of his body still pressed against her. Carefully, she shifted, his arm tightening instinctively before he stirred awake. His voice, rough from sleep, brushed against her ear. "Don't move yet." Before she could move again, the sharp buzz of a phone broke the quiet. She reached over to grab it before it woke Zayne completely.
Brooklyn.
She hesitated for a second, then swiped to answer.
"Hey, Brook," she whispered.
"You sound alive," Brooklyn teased, relief clear in her voice. "Just checking if you made it home okay and if Zayne didn't chew me out for leaving you there."
She smiled faintly, glancing at him. "He's not mad. Actually… he was the reason I even made it to bed."
Brooklyn laughed softly. "Good. I was lowkey praying he didn't turn into Mr. Cold-and-Distant again. You know how he gets."
"Yeah," she murmured, tracing her finger along the sheet absently. "He was different last night. Calmer. Just… safe."
A pause hung between them, the kind of silence only best friends can share, half gossip, half genuine care.
Safe?" Brooklyn's voice softened, a little teasing, a little concerned. "Safe how? Like… actually safe, or the kind of safe that comes with a side of Zayne being scary if anyone bothers you?"
Brooklyn chuckled quietly, shaking her head even though he couldn't see her. "No… really safe. Like I could just… be myself. And he didn't make me feel… weird or judged. Not even a little."
There was a subtle shift in Brooklyn's tone, more earnest now. "That's… good to hear. I just… I don't want you feeling like you have to tiptoe around him—or anyone, honestly."
"I know," she whispered. "It's just… confusing sometimes. I don't know how someone can be… one way with everyone else, and completely different with me."
"Different good, right?" Brooklyn pressed, a teasing edge creeping back in. "Because if it's different bad… we might have a problem."
She laughed softly, a real laugh this time. "Yeah… different good. Definitely different good."
Another pause, this one heavier, filled with the words neither of them said. Finally, Brooklyn sighed. "Okay… I'll stop interrogating. But… call me if you need backup, or just someone to rant at. You know I'm here."
Before she could answer Brooklyn's teasing, Zayne's arms slid around her waist from behind, warm and firm. His lips brushed gently along her shoulder, and a soft shiver ran through her.
"Oh—uh…" she murmured, glancing down at her phone as it wobbled in her hand. "I… I gotta go."
"Already?" Brooklyn's voice sounded amused, a little teasing.
"Yeah… uh, bye, Brook!" she said quickly, pressing the end call button and setting the phone down. Her cheeks burned slightly as Zayne's lips moved lower along her neck, and she leaned back against him, letting herself melt into the unexpected intimacy.
"Didn't think I'd have competition," Zayne murmured into her hair, a hint of a smile in his tone.
She just laughed softly, hiding her grin. "You… always show up at the worst—and best—times."
Zayne's arms tightened slightly around her, his lips pausing against her shoulder as he tilted his head to look at her. "Hey… you okay?" His voice was low, careful. "Any headaches? Pain anywhere?"
She shook her head gently, trying to brush off the concern. "No… I'm fine. Just… tired, I guess."
He didn't let go, his hands lingering at her waist. "You don't sound fine," he murmured. "You've got that 'I'm-too-stubborn-to-admit-I'm-hurting' look. Talk to me."
She let out a small, soft sigh, leaning back fully against him. "I'm okay, really. Just… everything caught up with me tonight, that's all."
"Mm," he pressed, brushing a thumb along her arm. "Okay… but if anything hurts—your head, your neck, your back—you tell me. Don't try to tough it out alone. Got it?"
She smiled faintly, feeling the weight of his concern settle over her like a warm blanket. "Got it," she whispered.
Zayne's chin stayed resting on her shoulder, his voice calm but edged with something serious. "Brooklyn called…" he began slowly, and she tensed slightly, unsure where this was going.
She tried to brush it off. "Yeah… she just checked if I got home safe."
He shifted just enough to look at her, his gaze piercing. "Safe… yeah, but that's not what I mean. I mean last night at the club. Why were you there? And… why didn't you answer my calls?"
Her stomach dropped, the question she'd hoped to avoid finally out in the open. She froze, caught between wanting to explain and wanting to hide behind a shrug.
Zayne's arms didn't loosen. "I'm asking because I need to know. No distractions, no excuses. Just… why?"
Her lips parted, words caught somewhere between truth and hesitation. For a moment, the quiet of the room pressed down on them, heavy with unspoken history.
And just like that, the warmth of the night shifted safe, calm… now edged with questions that could change everything.