Mrs. Bieber [Zustin Mieber FF] English Version

Part 19

Zayn

I haven't spoken to anyone in the last few days. Not even Justin. I was so damn ashamed of crying like a little kid in front of him on the phone. I bet he was secretly making fun of me. I, for one, would ridicule him afterward. I would burst into hysterical laughter if he cried on me.

But I would never tell him that. I was really grateful to him for being there for me. I just needed someone to listen to me and not interrupt me. He didn't judge me, he didn't call me a wimp for crying, maybe he did think so but I couldn't tell for sure. He seemed really sincere and I would always respect him for that. But you never heard those words come out of my mouth. Not now, not later.

"Hey, Zayn? Are you okay?" Niall asked, his lips curled into a cautious smile. I looked up at Niall and smiled back. The remnants of my minor depression were gone and I really did feel better than the day before. I felt somewhat like my old self again.

"Yeah, the migraine is slowly getting better." I let out a fake sigh of relief.

Niall grinned. "Yay! We finally have our old Zayn back!"

I laughed and nodded, and he grinned at me and continued to stuff himself with food.

I had told the guys that I had had a damn headache for the past three days and that it had forced me to lock myself in my room antisocially. I had even faked the pain sounds and said that I was taking aspirin the whole time. None of the guys questioned this because they knew that I had a headache a lot and so they didn't see anything unusual.

I was relieved that they were either more focused on themselves or really so clueless. Part of me still wished a little that they had fought so hard to get it out of me what was wrong. Although Justin had more beat it out of me.

Speaking of evil itself. We were friends and everything, but I hadn't spoken to him since that night.

Not that he hadn't called or texted, I had just ignored him or given him bullshit. like I was busy, or tired from the changing time zones. It seemed like he got the messages because he hadn't tried to reach me since Tuesday, which was the day before yesterday.

I hated how vulnerable I was in front of him that night, it was like I was completely naked and he was judging me. I hated it, I hated how I had poured my heart out to him and told him everything. I swore to myself that I would never let that part of my thoughts out again, or that next time I wouldn't cry them out to the nearest person, but would blow them away with the smoke of cigarettes or drink them away with the old familiar alcohol. Shit, talking about feelings like I was really a woman, like Justin always said.

Anyway, I was actually quite relieved that someone wanted to listen to me. I would never mention it to him, but he gave me far more motivating and useful advice than Liam ever did. He could understand me and compare my situation to his own. And yes, he had insulted me a little when he lectured me about hate, but he wasn't wrong. He had spoken his mind on the subject with a credibility you wouldn't believe.

"Zayn, we're heading to the photo shoot now, we're leaving now!" Liam snapped his fingers in my face to get me out of my trance.

"All right, I'm coming." I mumbled, getting up from the couch.

The others had all already climbed into the jet black SUV and I was the last one to get in, the one everyone was waiting for. As always, since I was the one who was always late.

"What kind of photo shoot is this anyway?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes.

Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled down something.

"It's for Fabulous. We're on the cover of next month's issue," he said, looking up.

I smiled and whispered to myself, "Take that, Bieber, we're on the cover of Fabulous!"

"What did you say, Zayn? I didn't hear it." Niall tilted his head in my direction.

I froze for a moment. "Um, nothing. I just said something unimportant to myself," I stuttered.

"Damn it, Zayn," Louis teased, giggling. "Are you still hallucinating from the drugs, huh?"

My cheeks briefly lit up in embarrassment.

"Oh, shut up, ass."

"Louis' ass is quite nice, yeah," Harry added cheekily.

"Too bad the only action you'll ever get is kissing it," Louis replied, turning to the curly-headed boy.

Harry folded his arms and mock pouted. "Fine," he said, sniffling.

"Oh, please stop with the whole Larry thing unless you want to get married." Liam joked, making me laugh. That's when I realized that none of the guys knew about my "holy bond of marriage" with a certain Canadian pop star. My heart started racing. What if someone found out?

I hadn't received the certificate yet. What if it landed on someone's doorstep? Or the hotel got it and opened it? We'd be so screwed! I had to find that damn document, pronto!

"You have to stop drifting off into another world! We're here." Liam shook my shoulder and pulled me out of my thoughts.

I nodded and hopped out of the car, walking faster than the other guys towards the building. Because I wanted to change and put on makeup and get my hair done. Maybe that would distract me a little.

--

I bit my lip as the stylist roughly dried my hair and practically ripped bald patches by pulling on the strands. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was only doing this to pull out one of my beautiful curls so that she could later auction it off on eBay. I almost yelled at her for that, but I was grateful to her for distracting me by making murder plans for her instead of thinking about this stupid thing with the wedding papers.

We had arrived in front of a white house earlier, a set had been set up somewhere nearby where we would later have the shoot. I don't know how they came up with the idea of ​​doing the shoot here, here where there were only a few shabby houses stood, some of them still had a fence around them. It certainly didn't look like we were doing any particularly elegant shoot. It had to be something that represented America, otherwise we might as well have taken the photos in London. (Hey? Hey? Get the dig?! Hahaha! Okay, not funny... read on...)

As the black-haired stylist slowly finished styling and pulling out her hair, a petite woman with pink hair floated over to me and put a tray with all kinds of powder on the table in front of me.

Ugh, make-up time.

I wrinkled my nose as she smeared something that looked like shit on my face and powdered it over it.

Then she pulled out a strange device from a case that was supposed to "curl" my eyelashes.

"You better not burn my eyelashes with that shit, I've heard of girls who have burned themselves to death with it," I warned her.

The two girls burst into laughter.

"It's an eyelash curler, sweetie, it just curls your lashes so we can see your beautiful eyes," she winked. "Absolutely no heat."

My eyes widened and my cheeks turned red. "Really?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir, now do me a favor and look straight. And don't move, even if I can't burn you with it, I can catch your eyelid and... yep, crush it..."

"What the hell?! My eyelashes are fine, thank you very much. Let's skip the curling thing. I'm not a drag queen."

The pink-haired girl giggled girlishly. "Don't take this as an insult, but you have quite feminine features, a bit like Justin Bieber. You both have full lips, very nice textures and really long eyelashes. You both have brown eyes too! Just a different shade." she grinned and the girl who was styling my hair nodded in agreement.

I groaned inwardly. I tried to forget him and the wedding thing connected to him and the bitch couldn't think of anything better than to mention him again. And then she said we looked alike! I have no damn feminine features!

"And you both definitely have pretty thick hair. I'd love to rip it out and keep it." she grumbled and I looked at her in disbelief.

"As if I'd let you do that! That's my beautiful hair, keep your hands off!" I snapped. Bitch, better don't touch my hair!

The girl just laughed.

"Alright, Sasha, I think we're done here. He looks wonderful!" she raised her hand for the other girl to high five.

"We are unbeatable! Go Team Sasha and Jade!" she cheered and they both giggled.

"Alright, honey, you're done. Now we're sending you to the dressing room, your friends should be here soon too," the pink-haired girl said to me and shooed me in the direction of the changing rooms. This was one corridor further on. The dingy house looked the same inside as it did outside. The walls were grey, the floor had stains and neon tubes flickered on the ceilings. Really...

"Thanks, ladies," I mumbled. Shit, girls were weird...

"No problem, babe!" they called after me as I walked to the door.

I saw a man running his fingers through Harry's curls and a short-haired woman dabbing makeup on Louis' face while she talked to his stylist.

I glanced in the mirror and noticed that they were giving us all this grubby, rough look. Like we worked in a car repair shop and weren't the most famous band of the time.

When I reached the dressing room, I was immediately shoved into the locker room and was given one order after another from somewhere after a girl with a headset almost ripped my shirt off trying to take it off.

"Alright, bad boy, you're going to wear this simple white top and the red flannel shirt, leave it open and push up the sleeves," one of them ordered, speaking into her headset.

"Liza! The curly-headed one should wear the bandana, not the blonde! You're totally ruining my look!" she growled.

I laughed quietly, so they wanted to put a bandana on Harry? That was new.

"Take it out of his hair and put it up in that pompadour hairstyle we discussed once!" she explained, rolling her eyes as she watched me get dressed. These clothes were something I would definitely never wear, but in this case I had no say in the matter anyway.

"I swear, Justin Bieber was so much easier to work with. He was just one person. Not FIVE!" she teased the woman as she hung a few shirts on a rack.

I gritted my teeth. That they all had to keep mentioning him. There was simply no escape from that bastard!

"All right, gentleman? Time for the photos!" The photographer was a slightly older man with rather thick glasses, which he looked over anyway. He walked past the door and down the hall and I followed him. He went to a blue metal door, which he pushed open with his hip, as his hands were full of camera and notepad. Behind me I heard the other guys running up. As

I walked through the door I saw that the shoot was going to take place outside. It wasn't really cold, so no problem, but I didn't really like the setting. There was the half-collapsed fence and a car in front of it, which also looked like it was about to collapse at any moment.

While I was kicking the car lightly with my foot to test whether it might fall apart, the rest of the guys came in one by one and the first person I noticed was Liam. He was wearing a ripped denim vest that revealed his biceps. He was rubbing his arms confidently. He was totally made to wear this outfit.

I whistled in appreciation. "Send Heidi a picture of that!"

He glared at me but still blushed a little. "Ha-ha, so funny, Zayn."

"Maybe your biceps will get you a date if your other skills aren't enough. You might as well use those."

Louis interrupted my teasing. He was wearing a light denim shirt and a white printed shirt underneath.

We all really looked like Chad and Troy from High School Musical, in the junkyard scene, like we all worked as mechanics.

"Stop being so superficial all the time. Li wants a woman who loves him for his selflessness and so on, not for his muscle-bound body." Louis said with a mischievous grin and licked his lips as he winked at Liam.

Liam was mumbling curses under his breath as Harry came in last. He was wearing the bandana with a denim jacket and a shirt and tank top underneath. Niall was dressed in a white sports top with the American flag on it, showing off his arm muscles.

Now that we were all together, the photographer spoke up.

"Okay, stand in front of the car and Zayn there," the photographer ordered.

"We look like we just escaped from prison," Louis grumbled as he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Oh, how many times have you been raped?" I asked.

He turned around and gave me the middle finger. "Every fucking night, thank you, my ass is very desirable, Zaynie. But you can't know that because you don't have one. You just have this gap between your spine and your legs."

I gasped.

"I'd rather have no ass than a woman's!"

The boys laughed at Louis's expense and Harry playfully slapped his ass. "See, pervert? I'm still sore!"

"Yay! Larrysex!" Niall shouted and I burst out laughing as he cheered. He was simply the captain of the Larryship.

Louis and Harry were both blushing and the photographer and his crew were just giggling quietly waiting for us to get serious again.

"Okay, boys! Spread out, lean against the car, Liam lean on the hood, show us your muscles!" he ordered and I whistled again.

"Show your arms, Liam! Give Heidi something to be impressed by!" I shouted and slapped his butt with a cheeky grin.

He growled but did as the photographer said and tensed his arms as he leaned a little on the hood.

"Now, the rest of you gather around the car and don't smile. This shoot is for you to be serious, sexy and wild," the photographer said and that was so ridiculous that I had to hold back a laugh. I was supposed to look serious.

"All right? Good, one, two, three...!"

--

As I was basically drowning myself scrubbing all the make-up off my face in the hotel, I could see the beige liquid disappearing down the drain. I snorted in disgust. Girls even put it on their faces voluntarily and wash it off every night and it makes a huge mess. Why? Why?!

Oh man, if it were up to me, I'd just go to shoots in a Batman shirt. But noooo, of course we had to look sexy.

I grimaced as I dried my face with the hotel towel and saw how much make-up was still stuck to it. How many damn layers did they throw in my face?!

I just threw the towel on the counter and left the bathroom in my hotel room. I changed clothes and put on basketball shorts instead of the shooting clothes and left the shirt off altogether. Definitely more comfortable.

I threw myself on the bed and grabbed the remote control to watch a bit of TV, maybe there was a good film or something. Americans usually had better channels than we had at home.

I felt the phone vibrate in my back pocket and answered it without looking who it was, while I switched to the channel for How I Met Your Mother, where one of the last episodes was apparently on. I should definitely watch all the episodes on Netflix.

"Hello?" I said.

"Are you avoiding my calls again? Are we back at the beginning now?" greeted the voice that I had avoided hearing mocking.

I cleared my throat. "I was busy, we had a photo shoot today."

He hummed amusedly. "Oh really? The I'm Full of Complete Shit magazine?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, with Fabulous, thank you."

He snorted and I couldn't help but feel a little bad. "I thought we were friends now."

"We are," I agreed.

"Oh really? And friends ignore each other? Text each other bullshit? Don't answer their phones? Great, seems like my mom taught me the wrong definition of friendship." He snapped.

I felt uncomfortable. "Justin, I was busy."

"Oh! So lying is another thing friends do!" He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Man, I was busy! I thought you would understand!" I replied.

"I get it, I completely get it. But I hope you understand that if I stop calling, I only did it for a good reason." He snapped.

"Then why are you calling me now?"

"To see if you're really as busy as you say, and you are, so I won't bother you any longer." He scoffed.

"Fine, then I'm finally rid of you!" I snapped, but I didn't really mean it. Not one bit. But it was really too late to take it back, because he replied angrily.

"I agree." He growled.

"Bye, asshole!" I yelled, my fists clenching. What the hell was I doing?

"Bye, fake boyfriend!" he yelled back.

And now we really were back to square one, arguing and fighting. Hating each other.