At this point, there's no denying it—Zayn and I are definitely flirting. There are stolen kisses here and there, moments where the tension between us builds and cracks, but nothing too serious. He's always pulled in a million directions by his work, and I'm constantly wrapped up in planning his events, making sure everything runs smoothly. We still keep our distance when it matters, but there's a spark that's always there, lingering just beneath the surface. I try to maintain my social life, balancing it all, but whenever Zayn and I find a quiet moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of us.
The days leading up to the event are a whirlwind of high-stakes logistics, frantic calls, and endless checklists. My usual Google calendar is now a color-coded battleground of schedules, each line a countdown to a precise moment Zayn needs to show up somewhere, shake a hand, or pose with that effortless confidence he's known for. It's a lot to manage—way more than I expected when I took this job—but it's strangely exhilarating, too, like putting together a puzzle and watching it come to life. By the time I'm finally standing at the event, my brain is buzzing with all the details I've prepared.
I chose my outfit carefully: a structured blazer, a nice pair of jeans, and loafers. It's practical, comfortable, and professional, but... I can't shake the feeling of being a bit out of place. Everyone around me is dressed to the nines, an assembly of couture dresses and designer suits, glittering with enough jewelry to light up the room. But I remind myself, this isn't about me. I'm here to support Zayn, to make sure everything flows smoothly.
Inside the venue, it's sensory overload. Lights flash from every corner, the hum of voices all around, bursts of laughter punctuating the night. Celebrities and industry VIPs glide through the crowd, mingling and shaking hands as photographers snap away. And Zayn fits right into it, his natural charisma drawing attention, his laugh loud and easy as he holds court among other artists and producers. Meanwhile, I'm playing my part, staying close enough to be ready for anything he needs but not so close that it's obvious.
Then, I notice Justin Bieber and his boyfriend, Gael Hilton, nearby. They're chatting with a small group, and for a moment, I hesitate. Should I introduce myself? I take a quick breath, remembering that I'm here to network for Zayn's benefit, and approach them with a polite smile.
Gael notices me first, his eyes flickering with interest as he takes in my outfit, particularly my shoes. His brows knit together for a second, not in a judgmental way, but more like he's genuinely trying to figure something out.
"Hey, there," he says, offering a friendly nod and his hand.
I smile at the group and shake Gael's hand. "Hi there, if u guys need anything, let me know okay?" I say to all
They nod. "You're Zayn's assistant right? I've heard great things about you." Gael adds.
"Haha, thanks.' I reply.
"Do you... have difficult feet?" He suddenly asks.
I blink, thrown off. "Oh... huh? No, not really," I reply, glancing down at my loafers in confusion. "Why?"
He shrugs with a soft laugh, looking a little sheepish as he nods toward my shoes. "Oh, just because of those easy shoes. I mean—they look comfortable, you know?" There's an awkward pause, then he chuckles, trying to smooth over the moment. "I didn't mean anything by it, just noticed them."
"Oh, yeah," I laugh, trying to shrug it off. "They're definitely comfortable. I have to be on my feet all night, so I figured why not make it easy on myself, right?"
He nods, smiling, looking a little relieved, and just as quickly, our conversation is swept away by the flow of the event. We exchange polite goodbyes, and I find myself watching him as he slips back into his circle, chatting easily with other guests. It's not exactly a warm first impression, but it wasn't rude either—just... a bit strange.
