If They Only Knew, They Would Just Be Jealous of Us
She leans against him, pressing her chest to his back, and watches over his shoulder as he adds dimension and shadow with practiced precision. He smells like Zayn--cigarettes and cardamom and a little cologne--but he smells like her, too, because the only soap in the shower is Perrie’s pomegranate body wash. She nuzzles his neck and he tilts his head a little, allowing it even as he keeps drawing.
Perrie wonders if he tastes as good as he smells, and then she’s kissing him right there at the soft junction of his neck and his shoulder. Just quick, soft kisses at first, but then she decides to see exactly what it will take to get Zayn to stop drawing.