invasato [h.s]

19

grab a snack for this one...

Elaina Basset

It's been a quiet week.

After the bar incident, I didn't really go out and that was my own choice. I ended up staying at the villa and working on Marjorie and Derek's painting.

It's the morning of their ceremony, and I could not be more nervous.

I got the painting done, and I'm super proud of it. I know that they're gonna love it and I'm excited for them to see it...but that's where my enthusiasm ends.

Harry was right about me needing a new dress. None of mine were worthy enough for a ceremony like this. I went out yesterday and bought one, praying it was suitable for tonight.

Last week, when Harry took me back to Zayn's from the bar, I was met with all of the guys being at the villa. Harry told them what happened, and judging by Zayn's face, I could infer that this Jayden guy was bad news to them. I don't know why or how, but he's an enemy of some sort.

It made me nervous because Jayden had picked me out specifically, but the guys just told me that if I mind my business, I'll be okay.

I still haven't spoken to Angela. She's kept her distance like she promised she would. It doesn't make me feel good, believe me. I would much rather be able to spend time with my best friend in Italy instead of blocking her out, but I feel that I don't have a choice.

Today is Friday.

Zayn's going to be working at the bar tonight and he said that the guys will end up tagging along to hang out in the VIP section. I asked Zayn what they do all night, and he basically said that the guys hook up with different girls and drink and chain smoke.

Harry would be missing from these events tonight, because he'll be with me...acting as my date.

I'm dreading it. I'm terrified that he's either going to stir up trouble for me or say something to humiliate me in front of two people I care about.

In my pyjamas, I go downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast. If I'm going to be suffering tonight, might as well do it on a full stomach.

Zayn was down here already, cutting up tomatoes that he grew in his garden. He looks over his shoulder at me, then looks back down.

"Morning." he mumbles with his back to me.

I walk to the fridge and open it up. "Morning."

I grab an egg from the carton and then a frying pan from the rack—placing it on the stove and turning up the heat.

It stays silent between Zayn and I, with just the sound of his knife hitting the cutting board with every chop. The tension was thick—like it's been all week.

I hate it.

I know he's done things that I shouldn't be able to look past, and I don't...but he is my best friend. He's shown me nothing but support and respect and kindness. That's why this is all so conflicting.

But, I do know that I'm tired of this weird silence.

"How was your night?" I ask, breaking the quiet.

Zayn, caught off guard, looks over at me standing by the stove.

"Uh—" he clears his throat. "Good, thanks." he nods.

I nod back, cracking the egg onto the pan.

"How was yours?" he asks in return, making my nerves fill with relief for some reason.