Playing With Fire || z.m

"I'm not going all Kardashian on you!"

ELLIE

It’s finally Friday!!! I grin to myself as I sink into my beautiful sofa in my beautiful lounge in my beautiful house with a tub of beautiful raspberry sorbet in my hand. Bliss! 

No, no bliss for you, my conscience screams from inside my brain somewhere. The fear of the abortion fills my veins with a horrible tingling feeling, my gut churns and the sorbet immediately becomes unappetising. I heave myself back up off the sofa and shove the tub of ice cream back into the freezer. Why is every second of happiness ruined by that same thought? This is killing me. I just want to get it over and done with. 

But then I’m terrified at the same time. It’s a fucking no win situation, isn’t it? Why was I so careless with contraception in the first place?

This is the biggest secret I’ve ever kept from anybody and it’s eating my up inside. This whole situation; sleeping with Zayn behind Perrie and Harry’s backs, carrying his baby. Oh god!

The doorbell pulls me from my thoughts. Great, if this is Zayn, I’m really not in the mood. I look through the spy hole and feel annoyed yet relieved to see Harry standing on my porch.

“Hiya.” Fake smile, Ellie, come on, force it on!

“Hey, my love!” He kisses my cheek and comes in. “I just came over because we’re all chilling at Zayn’s tonight and I want you to come and join us, meet my friends.” I have no words. Is he serious? Quick, think of an excuse!!! “Why are you looking at me as if I’m crazy?” He laughs. Oh shit.

“I just, I’m in a tracksuit!” I am, and I haven’t washed it for about a week. I must stink!

“You can change?”

“I, uh, I have a headache.” I lie.

“I’ll get you some paracetamol while you change.” He smiles again and I can’t bare to let him down. For God sake Harry Styles!!

“Okay. Thank you.” I turn and walk slowly upstairs. Why am I agreeing to this. “Oh, hey, Harry? Did Zayn say it was okay?” I stop half way up and turn to look at him.

“Yeah, he said it was fine.” He laughs and disappears into my kitchen.

After spending about 10 minutes pulling items of clothing out of my wardrobe, I finally decide to stick on a pair of jeans, a white vest top and stick a beige cardigan over the top. I don’t want to rock into Zayn’s house too dressy. God, what if I’m underdressed? Well, all Harry has on is black jeans and a band tshirt.

Hmm, I guess this outfit will do. I swiftly pull my wild hair into a tight top-knot and run back down stairs to find Harry waiting in the kitchen for me with a glass of water and a painkiller.

Bless his little heart.

“Beautiful.” He comments, making me blush.

“Thanks,” I whisper as I neck the paracetamol. “I just need to put a bit of slap on and then I’m ready.”

“You don’t need make up.”

“Oh per-lease!!” I snort. “Have you seen me?” He just looks at me and I know he doesn’t want me to put make up on but hello?! I’m a girl, I need a little bit of make up to feel decent, right? “I won’t put loads on! Only a bit of foundation and some mascara! I’m not going all Kardashian on you!”

“That’s alright then.” God, Harry Styles is sexy. He’s just standing in my kitchen like a normal man, leaning against the counter. But he’s not just a normal man. He’s so cool, and everything about him looks good. Yeah, he has a few spots and his hair could do with a wash but he just has the look of a super star! “Stop staring at me and go and tart yourself up then!”