Second Chances

Chapter 3

//I hate to be this kinda of author, but it would mean the world if you guys vote per chapter, and please comment a lot too. It helps me expand, and this story will get noticed more. Thank you! //

Songs of Inspiration:

Come Home - One Republic

Apologize - One Republic

What Would You Do - Bastille

It's been a week since Morgan's funeral, and tonight is the first night I decided to leave my apartment and go out. 

I've been ignoring all the phone calls, all the letters and text messages sent to me. Every single bouquet of flowers delivered I smashed on the floor, ripped the petals off and made sure each stem was snapped in half. What's the point of any happiness if the sole power of mine was taken away from me?

Our-my entire apartment is a wreck. Every framed of Morgan and I is somewhere shattered on the floor along with the pieces of my heart. I let my anger and aggression get the best of me as I tore the place apart, but I don't care.

I don't care about much of anything, really. I don't care about anyone else much anymore. 

I don't know why anyone is bothering to cheer me up. Especially my band mates who flew in for Morgan's wake, I mean it was a waste of their time. Just to see me broken in despair. 

But tonight I decided to pick up the phone when Louis called for what seemed like the millionth time after I slammed and locked my front door in front of his and Liam's face when they tried to come over to console me. 

So now here I am in a black tuxedo and everything on my way to some fancy restaurant that I was told everyone was going to for a night out.

I don't expect much of anything good to be gained from tonight, but I needed to get out of the one place that constantly reminded me of her every time I turned my head.

I drive around back behind the brick building in the midst of the city, and spot a car that must be Zayn's rental by the look of it that I park next too. It's a bright red Ferrari, with black flames on the rear end of it. Typical. I'm surprised he hasn't spray painted Bradford Boy on it yet.

I press my face against the cool glass of the front seat window and cup my hands around to view the inside. My suspicions are confirmed when I find his favorite glasses in the cup holder, and an I Heart One Direction key chain hanging from the rear view mirror.

I want to laugh, because this is so purely Zayn, but the joy deep inside me is vanished to a fine dust. So thin, so obscure that it can't form into anything bigger to bring my mood up.

I walk across the pavement to the front of the restaurant, and by the long Italian name in gold cursive above the door I decipher what food I will be ordering tonight.

The moment I swing the door open, the aura of pasta and sauce wafts through my nostrils and a soft jazz music plays. 

"How many?" the host greets me with a warm smile. I wonder if she knows who I am, especially since I've been the topic of almost every news channel in the state of Massachusetts and pretty much globally for the passed week.

"Actually, I'm joining some friends. I don't know who it's under though," I knit my eyebrows together, trying to remember who started this night out as I list off my band mates, "Liam Payne...Louis Tomlinson...Zayn Malik...Niall Horan," I continue as her eyes scroll down a sheet in front of her.