Punk Zayn Series

"Out Of His Element"

You had kept your immense knowledge of high fashion to yourself up until today. "Where are we going?" He had asked, getting into the backseat of the car that had stopped to pick you up first. "Alexander McQueen is showing his Fall collection at the Somerset House," you explain as the driver pulls back out onto the road. "I don't know what that means," he admits.
"It's a fashion show."
"Oh," he says not at all sure how to react to the news. "Did you rent this?" He asks next. "No, it was provided for me," you answer.
"By who?"
"My boss."
"Who is your boss?" You had only told him that you worked from home and that knowledge had kept him satisfied up until this point. "Alexander McQueen," you reveal softly. "You work for a fashion designer?" His question was accompanied by mass confusion. "Yeah I work under Sarah Burton actually, she's his creative director. When I'm not out walking with you, I'm inside on the computer researching different trends in different countries so she can incorporate them in the designs."
"That just sounds like you are doing her job."
"My research is turned into her ideas."
"And you don't feel cheated by that? Surely you can figure out how to use what you find just as good as her."
"No, I like what I do. Plus it pays enough to where Sophie and I can live on our own." The car comes to a rolling stop a few minutes later and Zayn leans towards your door to open it. You place your hand on his, "He opens it for me, plus you're supposed to get out on your side." He looks at you and then over to his door where the driver was heading to open. You nod at him and he climbs out as the driver moves around the rear of the car to open your door. "Now come over here," you instruct him still from your seat with a smile. Zayn shuts the door and walks over, straightening out the sleeves on the blazer you had told him to wear. "Hold your hand out." You take his open hand and move it into his side as you let go so he can escort you with his angled arm. "They do red carpets for fashion shows?" He asks, looking ahead at all of the photographers behind the barricades. "Any excuse for them to get out of the office," you acknowledge. He sighs loudly, making you aware of his discomfort. "You will be fine, they're going to only want a few pictures. We aren't celebrities like the rest of these people." Your explanation did not help to relax him, he had never been amongst legitimately famous people. The red carpet director spreads news down the line of photogs that you have arrived. They prep their cameras and begin shouting your name. "Your arm now goes around my waist," you instruct with a whisper. As your hand rests on your hip in posing position, Zayn's hand rests on top of it, his free hand nervously twitching in the pants pocket you had also instructed him to use. The two of you pose for just a few seconds before moving down to the next group of flashing lights. "That wasn't so bad," you say to him as you make your way inside. "How many of these do you do?" He questions, his tone worrisome. "One for each season plus fashion week." He sinks into his shoulders at the news. "Oh don't, you'll get used to them, I promise."