Labels 2

13 - Catch Ups

I try to call Harry, for the tenth time. It didn't even ring, meaning that he was just refusing to answer my calls.

I sigh and sit back down before a rap comes onto the door.

I slowly open it and theres a man standing there. He's much older than me, maybe in his late 50s, early 60s. His hair was dark but little grey hairs were sprinkled across.

He gives me a warm smile and reaches out his hand.

"I'm Simon, you must be Paris," Simon says. I blink twice and wrack my brain for a Simon. Nope, I could not remember a Simon.

"Um yes.. Who are you?"

"I'm your driver, filling in for Paolo, he's got other responsibilities for today so Mr. Styles suggested I take you to the airport if that's alright?" he says.

I nod and look around making sure I had everything.

Harry wouldn't answer his phone, so I guess I would have to go and see him myself.

Simon leads me down the hall and down the steps into the elevator. There is a man, and what appears to be his child standing close next to him.

I wave at the little boy and he reaches out for my stomach.

I step closer and he touches it. His hand is warm and the baby kicks.

I try not to freak out.. Because this was the first time, the baby had even acknowledged itself apart from being a large bump.

The boy jumps back a little, then gives me a toothy grin.

He walks closer to me again, this time slowly, the grin still on his face.

"Michael.." the father says.

The boy loses his smile and frowns at his dad.

"No no it's okay," I say.

The boy turns his attention back to me and finally touches my bump again. The baby kicks again and the boy begins to giggle.

I smile and the boy walks back over to his father.

"Hey aren't you the Queen of England?" the father asks.

His eyes stare at me intently , and I decide then that it would probably be best as far as my safety goes not to tell the truth.

I shake my head.

"Nope, I get that a lot, I don't even know her," I lie, forcing myself to laugh.

The man gives me a wryly look, and then looks back down at his son.

The rest of the elevator ride, which is all of 20 more seconds includes me trying my best to avoid eye contact as much as I could.

---

We're driving down the road, until I remember one thing. I had to say goodbye to Zayn, he was the only one at this moment in time who was not holding a grudge against me. I couldn't leave him again like I did last time.

"Wait.. Simon, could you stop at Demoire's Diner," I say. Simon nods, and he takes the next right. I quietly wait until we reach the familiar steps, and I get out of the car, and walk past the seated areas.

Once I get inside, Niall is sitting at the counter, and him and Zayn are sharing a laugh. I question whether or not I should have come. Until Zayn spots me, he smiles and waves me over. Niall turns for a fraction of a second, scowls, and then turns back around.

Niall is wearing a pair of white shorts that reach just above his knee from where he is seated, a blue polo t shirt that was much too small for him, and white sneakers. His hair seemed to have gotten messier the last time I saw it, and his brunette locs overshadowed his blonde ones.