I don’t get to voice my question as he reaches for me, pulling me against him before placing his hand on my chest over my heart. Without thinking about it, I raise my own, placing my palm over his shirt between the lapels of his jacket, and with only our palms touching each other, we move together. Zayn steps away from me, sliding his feet lightly over the floor. I mirror him. Chasing his every move. I feel the heat of his body, the thump of his heart, the beat of his truth. I see that honesty in the way he moves, in the sincerity of his stare, in every single step. It upends me.
