But just like Xeno did on the dance floor in Rocks, Zayn takes, and I let him. Just this once, I let him. Eventually, he pulls back. Emotions rush beneath his gaze, too fast for me to decipher, to unravel in the moment. I’m drawn into his gaze, a dangerous vortex that spins with too much feeling. My breathing hitches, my eyes well with tears that I blink back fiercely because Zayn isn’t looking at me with emptiness, with hate or anger. He looks at me with longing, with fucking hope.
