Neon Red [Order The eBook] [Zayn]

12

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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She had a Patrick Bateman morning routine that involved acidic scrubs, detoxing masks, and long, meticulous showers. I sat at the empty breakfast table after separating from Haz while she hopped around the suite in her PJs, searching for clothes—dried toothpaste on her pimples. A tentative knock landed at the door. It was housekeeping, and they were determined to have a go at the room. I hadn't let them in since we checked in. I cracked the door and told them to come back later, and the lady suppressed her disdain by mustering a twisted smile (the kind I imagined Bundy employed before he struck) and bobbing away. Now I shut the door, leaning back against it with a huff. When G started singing, a month's worth of annoyance erupted within me.

"Yooooo...G??? Any day now!" I tossed my head back against the wood.

"Coming, coming, coming! I swear, babe!" she laughed. "Just five more minutes! Ok??"

"Youh said that 20min agoh, yeah?!"

"Yeah, but this time I realllly mean it!"

"Fuckkk, G! M'dyin' here..." The bathroom door shut. She had honestly slept in as we planned, regardless of absence. I had to wake her up when I got here, then she spent an hour on the phone with her mom, and was only now hopping in the shower.

I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Nothing but the usual. My cousins hitting me up. One of them had written a song and he wanted me to check it out. My mum was checking in on me. My manager offered revisions for next week's schedule. The label followed up about the upcoming single. Taryn kept me posted on the latest, lining up appointments for the second I landed back in New York. Yet...nothing from him. Our thread was pushed further and further out of sight as everyone else in the world seemed to reach out just now.

I'd gotten back to the hotel around half ten, rehashing last night and this morning on the entire ride over. It just didn't seem real that he was here. Worse, it felt awful knowing he was only a few miles away, prepared to fly to another continent, following which we wouldn't see each other for weeks. Maybe even a month if our schedules continued to clash the way they did. When he was in LA, I was in France. When I was in New York, he was in the UK. When I was in the UK, he'd probably be back to LA by then.

Fuck it. I called him. He answered after a few rings, but I panicked and hung up. My heart was rattled at the thought of G walking in and catching me. Something about the risk made me giddy. Emboldened, I called back again.

"Z?"

"Hey..."

"Hey...what's up?" he wondered. "You ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well...you hung up before."

"Sorry. Finger must've slipped."

"Ok..."

"Where are you?"

"A hotel near the airport...waiting on my flight."

"What time is it?"

"Few hours...." I shuddered at the thought of him boarding. "Hang on a minute." He clicked to the other line. I felt like I was imposing, trying to keep him on the phone.