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happily

Much in the way that celebrity scandals have ruined the lives of all sorts of humans throughout history, my life was flipped on its back abruptly when I left Zayn's flat that morning of Valentine's day in his clothes. I'm not sure what either of us were expecting, me catching a cab with my hair a mess, carrying my dress and purse, and generally looking like a huge disaster. But, I was obviously instantly identified as Coffee Girl (who else could I be, being the size I am?) and things sort of spiraled out of control by then.

By that afternoon, pictures of Zayn and I entering his hotel that night and me exiting that morning we everywhere. I suppose this was a big deal, because when things are innocent like that, you don't really bother with making it clear that they are. So, I slept with Zayn. So, I was dating Zayn. So, Zayn was now an entirely different person, because he apparently slept with someone larger than the average model. I was the embodiment of a new-found fetish, which obviously had to be the reason he and Perrie broke up.

Why was my body a fetish? What was so weird and abnormal about wanting to be with somebody with a bit more to love? It made me sort of angry, but it also made me mostly sad.

"Hi," Zayn said, standing awkwardly in the doorway to my office. I glanced up from my computer screen, trying to make it seem like I was doing actual work, instead of scrolling through the tweets about 'Coffee Girl' on Twitter. 

"Hi," I replied, daring to meet his eyes. I sort of wanted to kiss him, but I also sort of wanted to punch him, for being the indirect reason I felt like shit.

Zayn leaned against the door frame, giving me that stupid, calculating stare. "Are you alright?"

I shrugged a bit with one shoulder and closed out of Twitter with my free hand. "I guess. Are you?"

He chuckled a bt to himself and shut the door, pressing his back against the wood. "You're not okay, are you? I know that you don't think it's possible, but I know you pretty well by now. You're upset."

"It'll pass," I stated simply, going for a new approach. Obviously the denial tactic was getting me absolutely nowhere. "Why are you here?" I didn't mean for it so sound annoyed or angry, but it came out more like a demand than a question, and I found myself shrinking back at the sound of my own voice.

"Because I care about you, and I wanted to talk," Zayn replied, plopping down into the same chair as he'd previously been sitting in on his visits. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore," he added, trying to sound like he was totally okay with that idea. But, he wasn't. That was even more obvious.

"I always want to talk to you," I said, before I could stop myself. I bit down on my lip and looked away, afraid of what he'd think of that.

"Good," he mumbled. "Well, I can tell that you're unhappy, but I know exactly how to fix this, okay? You've got to trust me. I can't make the bad stuff go away, but I can make the good stuff even better, right?"

"I suppose," I agreed. "Does this involve leaving the office? Because I'm not off for another two hours."

"I don't think your boss will mind; he invited me in," he explained.

I cursed Carter in my mind as I tugged on my coat; I knew that wherever we were going, I was going to have a hard time keeping myself in check. When you want to be angry at someone, but can't help but simultaneously want to kiss them, there's no telling what you'll do. I was a ticking time bomb, and not I even I knew the size or the nature of the explosion.

As we exited Editing, I began racking my brain for excuses, the way I started to when Features people invited me out. There was no telling what kind of trouble they'd get me into, parading me around as Coffee Girl and using me for my connection to Zayn. Something very bad almost happened last time, so I'd been avoiding them at all costs; especially Michelle, because it was all her fault that any of this was happening in the first place.