12. Bipolar

                                    

                                          
A Z I Z
Hot N Cold - Katy Perry
"Can't avoid me now, can you?" I whispered as I stared into his eyes. He stayed quiet, of course, and looked at me with unreadable eyes. They hinted a bit of amusement along with fear. I'm not the best at reading people, but Zayn makes it even harder.
"You're still the same, running away from all sorts of confrontations." I whispered again, this time slowly removing my hand from his mouth, allowing him to speak. 
"I don't know what you're talking about. We've always hated each other." He spoke carelessly as his gaze shifted around the room. I chuckled, "But never have you missed a chance to get on my nerves." I tilted my head a bit.
"Let me go, Aziz. We're playing hide and seek with Arsal, remember?" He raised his brows. "I'm not holding you hostage." I spoke as I looked down at the distance between us. I could tell he knew what I was trying to say— you can go if you want to, but it doesn't seem like you do. 
"Just tell me why you're avoiding me. You were okay with it that night, but then you just ran out of my house." It sounded like I was irritated but I was mostly concerned. 
I bet he didn't even know I was the one who took him home that night. "It was nothing. You're thinking too much." Zayn rolled his eyes. "And also, just forget what happened that night. We both were drunk and-"
"I wasn't drunk. And you barely even took a sip." I interrupted. He looked into my eyes again with that expression. It was a mixture of anger and confusion. I can't tell what he's thinking at all.  
"Aziz, do you like me?" The sudden question caught me off-guard. 
"What?" I asked. 
"I said, do you like me?" Zayn repeated, his voice strict. 
"No." I hesitated and took a step back. 
"Then how do you explain why you kissed me that night." He remained where he was and didn't move a step. He stared at me expressionless, "You don't have an answer do you?" He rolled his eyes. "That is why it's best if we-"
"Why did you let me kiss you?" I turned the tables. I knew why I had kissed him, but I didn't want to admit. Not to myself, not to him. 
"What?" He scoffed. "Why did you let me kiss you if you hate me?" He blinked and looked down. 
"Why do I feel like you don't hate me?" I took a step forward again, caging him between the door and I. "Why do I feel like you wanted to kiss me too?" I put my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. 
"Answer me, Zayn." His eyes looked up at me and I felt like my heart stopped breathing for a second. His dark-brown eyes looked so mesmerising— so pure yet cruel. I could never tell what he was thinking, let alone what he wants. He tilted his head and looked at me. 
"That's because you're delusional." He pushed me away and turned around to open the door. What is wrong with this guy? I grabbed his arm and pushed him against the door again, more harshly this time.
"Tell me why you cried that night and I'll let you go." I whispered in a low tone, my lips right above his. He remained eye-contact before putting his hand on my shoulder. He leaned in closer, his lips barely touching mine. 
Just as they were about to touch, he turned his head the other way and whispered in my ear, "I cried because you were so bad in bed." He emphasised so bad. I knew that wasn't the truth. 
Everything he said that night echoed in my head like it has been for the past few days. He cried as he yelled at me, tasking me how could I do that. He was clearly concerned about something else. His careless facade won't be able to keep on for long.