Chapter 60 Waves Between Us

Chapter 60 Waves Between Us
ASHLEIGH

Zayn walks into the apartment quietly.
He's back from the hospital.
I would've gone with him, but I'm still sore from last night. Every muscle I move reminds me of how rough we'd been.
There's still a chill between us, though it's not as serious as before, but it's still there.

We still haven't talked about the sex... about the way he took me on the floor, or about how we passed out together after like nothing had changed.
"Hey," I say softly, rising from the couch to meet him. "How was it?"
He notices my wince immediately, and the way I favour my left side… the stiffness in my hips.
Zayn stiffens.
His eyes follow me. "Fine," he mutters, stepping closer. "They ran tests. Everything's good. Headaches might stick around, but nothing new. No permanent damage."

"That's great!" I exclaim in relief.
"Yeah." He looks me over again. "Are you okay?"
I shrug, plastering on a smile. "Just a little sore, that's all."
"I'm sorry," he says, sincerity and mild guilt lacing his tone. "I was drunk, I was rough and …"
"Zayn, it's fine. In a few days I'll be fully fine." I cut in softly.
He sighs, then drops onto the couch.
I sit beside him.
Awkward silence falls.

"About last night…" he starts again. "It still doesn't change anything. Okay? If I weren't drunk, I wouldn't have… You know what I mean."
My heart sinks like a stone dropping into deep water.
"You wanted me, Zayn." My voice is calm even though my throat burns. "The alcohol only made you act on what you were already thinking. Please… can we just put an end to this coldness? I miss you. I miss us."
I reach for his hand, but he shifts.

"I'm not trying to punish you," he says, staring at the floor. "I'm trying to be honest. Last night was intense. And yeah, I wanted you. I always want you. But wanting isn't the same as trusting. And right now…" He finally looks at me, his dark eyes conflicted. "Right now, I don't even know if I can trust you, Ash."
The words hurt like a blow.
I drop my hand back to my lap.

"I get it," I whisper. "Take as much time as you need, Zayn. I won't bother you anymore."
He watches me carefully.
"I'll keep being here every day, every time until you heal from it all."
Then I get up slowly and leave for my room so that he can have his space.
I know he's staring at me, but I can't turn back because if I do, I'll cry.

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Lana Del Rey's sonorous voice floats through the car speakers.
I've had it on repeat for the last hour.
Malibu is still twenty minutes out, but the closer we get, the more the ocean smell sharpens, waking something restless in my chest.
I can't wait to be on the beach. Maybe being there … having my feet in the water, or simply letting the breeze wash over me, would ease the ache I feel.

Zayn is asleep in the passenger seat.
He's been out since the beginning of the drive. His painkillers are quite strong. They make him drowsy.
The sunlight keeps sliding across his face, highlighting his sharp facial features.
There's also a new stubble growing along his jaw, giving him a more mature look.
He'll be 24 soon.
I keep stealing glances at him.
He looks younger when he sleeps—without the guarded look he's worn since our fight, without the distance we've both been tiptoeing around.

He looks like the boy I used to know.
The boy I used to chase around the backyard, the one who'd let me win silly games just to hear me laugh.
My chest does a little squeeze again.
I pull the car into the long, shell-crushed driveway of Samuel's beach house just as the sun is starting to set.
Samuel Jenkins—son to a friend of Aunt Betty— whom I met on Zayn's welcome home party, extended an invitation to us to come spend some time at his beach house.
He's also involved in a surfing competition, and would like us to be part of his moral support team.

Given the short break from classes and constant tension at home still simmering between Zayn and me, we both agreed it was a good idea.
A distraction.
A change of scenery.
A chance to breathe salt air.
The competition is still a few days away, but we want to have a day or more to settle in before the main event starts.
The place is what you'd expect from Malibu money: white stucco, huge transparent windows facing the ocean, and a wraparound deck with surfboards leaning against the railing.

Turning off the ignition, I sit for a moment in the silence, taking in the view: the endless stretch of blue ocean water, the golden sand, the gentle crash of waves.
It feels like the first real breath I've taken in weeks.
Zayn is still sleeping peacefully, and I hate to wake him. But once I've had my fill of the scenery, I reach over and give his thigh a light tap.
"Zayn," I call softly.
He stirs, opening his eyes slowly.
"What?" He mumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
"We're here."

Before he can sit up fully, Samuel appears at my window, rapping his knuckles gently against the glass with a warm smile.
"Hi, guys!"
I open the door and step out first.
The strong ocean breeze immediately whips my hair around my face. Samuel pulls me into a quick, friendly hug.
"Hey. Thanks for coming, you two," he says to me.
I smile back at him.
Zayn climbs out of the car, still a little groggy, and moves to the trunk to grab our bags.

"Hi, Zayn," Samuel says, offering a polite nod.
Zayn returns it with a short dip of his chin.
Samuel walks over to help with the bags. "The guest rooms are all set up. You guys can pick whichever you want. There's food in the fridge and drinks on the deck if you're thirsty. Make yourselves at home."
"Ouuu, thank you," I say, as the three of us head toward the house.
For the next few days, this place might force Zayn and me to finally face what we've both been avoiding… who knows?
I'm really hoping for it.

"Wow. Your house is really beautiful." I utter in awe as we step inside the beach house. The place is stunning.
Samuel smiles sheepishly. "Thanks."
"Where's your mum?"
"She couldn't stay. Work stuff."
There's a sadness in his voice that he tries to hide behind casualness.
"She won't even make it for the competition."
I already know from Mum that his parents are divorced, and it sounds like his mother's absence stings more than he wants to admit.

"But I've got you guys and a few friends. That's more than enough," he adds quickly. "By the way," Samuel continues, "I'm having some people over this evening. Just a small thing… music, food, vibes. Is that cool with you two?"
"Of course," I answer. "Right, Zayn?"
Zayn gives a single nod. "Yeah."
Samuel glances at him curiously, then back at me. "He's not really one for talking, is he?"