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intro

She was sort of like him, in that she was judged on the outside before people even took the time to look inside of her. He fell in love after their first conversation. Never before had his heart swelled up at the sight of a girl like that. And maybe that's just how things were meant to be.

(Or, the one where the girl isn't a twig, and it doesn't actually matter.)

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"In other news, Zayn Malik and Perrie Edwards have officially split. Our sources credit it to another man, possibly one that comes with fewer crazed fans and death threats."

Zayn probably wasn't happy to see me. When I ran straight into him and spilled my coffee all the way down his expensive-looking shirt, he didn't even glare at me, or sigh. In fact, the first thing he did was apologize and ask if my dress was expensive. If you've seen my pay check, you'd know that my dress was not expensive. Despite his manners, I got the feeling that Zayn had been having a bad day when we met, and the story on the "news" that night only confirmed my suspicions.

I wondered, as I gently scrubbed at the coffee stain, if he got his own stains of his clothing, or if he had someone to do that for him. It was probably available to him, but what if Zayn was the type of guy that liked to do things for himself?

The problem with our encounter was that Zayn didn't act like a celebrity. Sure, he looked like one-- pretty and well-dressed and vaguely underfed, but he didn't stick up his nose or even give me that fake, it's-so-nice-to-meet-you smile I'm so used to getting. He clutched my forearm when I almost toppled over in my heels, and then offered to pick up the dry-cleaning bill. I told him no thank you.

I decided to keep the story to myself, because I didn't have many people to tell. There was Michelle, but she runs into celebrities all the time. Then there was Brad, but he probably doesn't know who Zayn Malik is. Diamond might be interested, but all of our conversations end in her offering me a diet pill, or me getting invited to a gym session-- or ten. ("Gotta lose that last bit of baby fat, right?")

No, I didn't really have anyone to tell, so I kept it to myself. Maybe I could've told my younger sister, Emily, when we spoke on the phone, but she was in a bad mood, and I didn't want her knowing she missed out on yet another chance encounter with a famous person. 

But, anyway, the coffee was only just the beginning of the story of Zayn. Let me tell it to you properly, from the beginning.