Baby Lips

Chapter 33

I sat in the lobby while Zayn whispered with the man behind the desk. I pictured him using some kind of alias name although said man behind the desk probably knew exactly who he was and was asking him to sign a postcard at this very minute.

I picked at my nails and ignored my ever-buzzing phone in my purse on my lap. Because I knew who it was. And I knew what he wanted. And I knew I was probably making him worried sick by not answering and I could see him pacing around his kitchen and tugging on his long hair and slamming his phone down on every hard surface in his house.

But when I thought about Harry Styles under so much stress I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad or upset or the need to run back to his house and tell him I’m sorry and to tell him to take me on his kitchen floor. No, not at all. I didn’t even want to feel bad or do any of those things for the curly haired jerk.

I was starting to think I had some kind of personality disorder. How can one person make me feel so happy and so beautiful and make me laugh at absolutely nothing and then make me want to cry and scream and rip my (and his) hair out in a matter of twelve hours? I shook my head and ignored another call and rolled my eyes at the amount of text messages I had and heard Zayn clear his throat.

“You alright?” He asked while flaunting two plastic room keys. I smiled and pushed out of the chair and searched for his hand to cling onto. His hand was warm and immediately linked with my fingers. It felt good to have someone stable to lean on.

“I’m fine.” I replied as we already made our way toward the elevator. Zayn wrapped his arm around me and held me close to his chest. I closed my eyes, even when the lift doors opened and he guided me in I kept them shut. Just because I thought that maybe when I opened them this whole thing would be a dream and I’d look over at still sleeping Harry with his little smirk always on his face and laugh about this whole ordeal.

But I when I opened them it was far from a dream. All I saw was the yellow lighting of the crappy elevator and Zayn’s hands pressing tightly against my waist. I took in a slow breath and could feel my own body shake while I inhaled.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Zayn asked again; his accent thick. I wasn’t sure if it was because I hadn’t talked to him in a long time or the fact that I was so used to Harry’s voice, but he sounded distant and unfamiliar.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just a little cold.” I lied and smiled to the best of my ability. He smiled and brought me closer to him, running his hands up and down my sides to warm me up. It didn’t work. I wasn’t cold in the first place. I was numb.

I swallowed hard when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Zayn grabbed my hand again. And it felt good again. And it reminded me why I was here in this shitty hotel with this boy in the first place. I took another shaky breath and thankfully this time Zayn didn’t notice.

It took awhile for Zayn to work the key card against the lock. I stood awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other while he cursed the plastic under his breath. He sighed when he finally got the little green light to flash and he opened the door with a smile. Motioning me to go step inside before him, I nodded my head and entered the room.

It was dark and the bed sheets looked dusty. It smelled funny and I was immediately afraid to touch anything. My nose wrinkled in disgust and Zayn chuckled from beside me.

“Lovely place.” He laughed again. I did a strange huff through my nose that sounded like a laugh but also like I was a horse at the same time. I bit my lip.

“Yeah,” I couldn’t even bring myself to poke sarcastic fun at this place. And we all know if Scarlett McVay can’t be the least bit sarcastic, something is up. Something big. Something big with soft hair and green eyes and smells like spices and makes stupid jokes. And I needed to stop myself before I started to cry.