Baby Lips

Chapter 32

Normally movies tend to do this nice thing where they take you into an alternate reality where everything is fun and good and fluffy and you don’t have a worry in the world. The only thing you might briefly think about is the fact that your popcorn is almost gone and it’s only the second preview, but tonight it was a different story. 

While the black and white movies and beautiful actors seemed to have a pleasant effect on my mood, I still felt uneasy. And not the uneasy you feel after you eat at a sketchy Indian restaurant, but the uneasy you feel after you just had weird argument with the boy you have all these feelings for and he seemed to just dismiss those feelings like they didn’t mean a thing. 

Earlier those feelings were ones of happiness and how I couldn’t wait to just cuddle up next to Harry Styles by the fireplace and fall asleep until it was my birthday and he showered me with kisses and presents and more kisses, but now the feelings were more, well, angry? Upset? Wanting to march down to where ever Harry’s curly little bum sat and push him off the stool? 

Whatever these stupid feelings were they weren’t sitting well with me. And Gemma, who was currently sitting next to me, was beginning to notice me literally  not being able to sit well. I was squirming every so often. Shifting from sitting on one leg to the next, leaning on my right arm then leaning on my left, messing with my hair then letting it fall in front of my face as I huffed at the stupid brown strands that never seemed to agree with what I did to them. 

She peeked over at me with her eyebrow raised and popped a chocolate covered raisin in her mouth, “You alright, Scarlett?” 

“Fine,” I replied quickly. She nodded her head like she totally believed it was normal to twitch and fidget the way I was. “I just, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” I scooped up my purse from the sticky floor, wincing a bit when my finger tips brushed something that felt like spilt popcorn, but it may as well have been mold growing on the ground. 

The yellow-ish lighting to the bathroom made me squint my eyes while I fished out my cell phone. I wasn’t sure why, but I thought calling Harry would be logical at this moment in time. Even though, I was completely aware that he would probably hear his phone right, see my name, and shove the device back in his pocket and go back to having such a blast with his friends he never gets to see and apparently doesn’t want me to see, either. 

Not that I was offended or anything. 

But as soon as I was about to punch the call button under Harry’s name, my phone buzzed in my hand and a name that I thought I would never, ever see again was spelled out right in front of me. 

Zayn Malik. Was calling me? Was there an apocalypse approaching that I didn’t know about? 

I quickly slid my thumb over the screen, “Hello?” I answered in almost a whisper. 

“I thought you wouldn’t answer.” He sounded almost relieved on the other end. I pushed out a laugh. 

“I thought you would never speak to me again.” This time Zayn chuckled slightly then sighed before he spoke again. 

“I guess that’s why I was calling,” He paused. “To say sorry for what I said to you, it was stupid of me and... I didn’t mean a word of it.” I shook my head and leaned against the sinks. He was insane for saying sorry when I was the bitch that stood him up. For his band mate. 

“Don’t be sorry, really.” I said. “I pretty much deserved it. I’m the sorry one.”  

“Well, we can both be sorry, yeah?” I could hear him smiling. 

“And we’ll both forgive each other?” I felt my own lips stretch into a smile.  

“Definitely.”