Where Have You Been

Chapter 14

Zoë's POV

After finally disembarking the plane, I immediately pulled out my phone, practically sprinting to the terminal, where cell-phone service awaited me. It was safe to say I was pretty obsessed with Niall, now. I don’t know how it happened, but the mix of charm and humor in his texts had me swooning. Of course, I still had yet to figure out if I had authorization to swoon. Or, more understandably put, if Niall was still with his girlfriend. I still felt guilty when I texted him, feeling like I was making him cheat on his girlfriend. Our first texts started out purely friendly, but they were turning into much, much more. Taylor was right when she pointed it out to me; why would I say “heart”, and tell him about my family if I WASN’T totally in to him. The next text I sent, I vowed to make less flirty.

“Off plane, finally! Hope u r having fun in NY” I nodded, giving Obama’s signature “not bad” face to confirm that I didn’t sound too warm. After I sent it, I spent a great deal of time twiddling my thumbs, looking around blankly as I awaited Niall’s reply. My mom had to physically drag me off of my seat to go to baggage claim, I was so attached to my phone I was unaware of my surroundings. Taylor, rolling her eyes in annoyance, had to lead me like a guide-dog through crowds of airport-goers. When she skid me to a stop in front of baggage claim, she forced my chin up.

“Zoe. What the hell? You’ve been staring at your phone for hours, how attached are you to this guy? I can’t get through to you, it’s like your deaf” as an afterthought, she added “and blind”, after waving her hand in front of my unresponsive eyes. “Again, to remind you for the third time, her has a girlfriend. Obviously this ‘platonic’ thing has fallen through. So what are you doing flirting with him? Not one to poop your party, but don’t deny it. You are on the verge of forcing him to cheat on his girlfriend. The whole nation would hate you if you ruined Niall’s reputation!” Her words of wisdom awoke my senses from their deep sleep.

“Oh god, Oh god… You’re right. Taylor!” I cried, shaking her arm as my insides wailed with despair. “What am I going to do? And he hasn’t even texted me back yet. Probably thinks I’m a freak.” I muttered, snarling at my pessimistic thoughts. Instead of softening at my desperate outburst, Taylor nodded her head harshly.

“I’m glad you finally understand”. Where was this drill-sergeant-Taylor coming from? The Taylor I knew loved One Direction, never stopped giggling, cracked a smile in the darkest of times, and always knew how to console me. This Taylor looked unforgiving and cold. I was dreading the car ride back with her.

Apparently Taylor was too, because when she removed herself from us for 5 minutes, she was calling a cab company to pick her up. What the hell? I shook my head, and didn’t try to conceal my hatred for her. I mustered up all the evil in my heart, and gave Taylor a menacing glare as she sped into the humid night in her white cab.

“Where is she going? I need someone to hype about the concert with.” My mom pouted, waving madly at the cab as it drove away. Great. My mom preferred Taylor’s company over her own daughters. Maybe I should get a cab, too.

Taylors POV.

I was still shaking my head at Zoë's naivety as I drove away. I took small pleasure from her astonished, hatred-filled face as it shrunk into the distance. It was hard for me to admit to myself that, perhaps, I was a bit jealous of Zoe. She had no real love for Niall Horan before the concert, and suddenly, she was all over him. What about me? I’ve been a dedicated fan since day one, and you don’t see ME texting One Direction members randomly after their concert. Where did this “relationship” of theirs come from, anyways? 

I fumed in the backseat of the cab, nearly discharging steam from my head. I had a brief urge to text Zoe, our fights never lasted very long, but I stopped myself from reaching for my phone. I reminded myself of all the reasons I was mad at her: Niall, being MIA, not telling me anything… the list went on and on. Or did it? Was I acting so cold just to spite her, because I was so envious? The thought, again, crossed my mind. I had always outshone Zoe. I was smarter, taller, better at soccer, had more boyfriends. Maybe I was just so unused to the notion that Zoe might actually be getting something that I wasn’t.

My moment of rationality had passed, and I began to recount the reasons I was so angry at Zoe. I found many more this time, and I was (creepily) slightly pleased about this. Like, maybe I could justify screaming at her and ditching her for a cab. A cab that was becoming quite expensive… we had been riding for an hour at least, and the fare was up to $123. Cabs were rare in Florida, and therefore quite expensive. I felt in my purse for money, and found only about $130. In a moment of panic (and insanity) I ordered the cab driver to stop.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked, looking back puzzlingly at me.

“I said, stop, please,” I repeated through clenched teeth. He looked taken aback at my tone, and pulled to the side of the road hastily. Before I could take back my decision, I stepped into the muggy air, and began to roll my suitcase along the cracked sidewalk. My house was only 6 minutes away by cab, but quite a ways to walk. Calluses began to form on the hand I had clenched around my suitcase, and my sore feet felt every crack in the sidewalk through my thin-soled ballet flats. I had dressed for the crisp air of New York in my dark jeans and trench coat. I looked rather suspicious next to the purse-dog-toting residents of my gated community.

Beaded with sweat and angrier than ever with Zoe, (the long walk had given me time to think), I teetered up the wooden steps to my house.

“Taylor, where have you been? We were so worried about you. We called Zoë's family, they said you had taken a cab…” My parents babbled on, and I managed to slip past them to my room. I bounced on to my king sized bed, (my parents had too much money), sprawled out like a starfish. The room was spinning around me, my head felt light and airy. When the spinning room finally returned to normal, I was left staring at a collage of photos consisting of two individuals: Zoe and I. In a fit of rage, I ripped them down, leaving only torn remnants hanging onto the pieces of tape that hung them up. I began to cry, shaking my bed with huge sobs. I was losing my best friend to Niall Horan, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.