Playing With Fire || z.m

"Don't say things you don't mean, Ellie."

ELLIE

“What do you mean you’re in a minor injuries unit?” I sigh into the phone listening to Harry ramble on. I pull myself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, trying not to move too much. This heavy bleeding malarkey is really, really grim. It’s bad enough for a girl having a period but this is just horrific.

“I, uh, I had an accident at work.”

“What kind of accident?”

“The kind of accident that resulted in me being punched in the face.” He gives a slight chuckle and my heart sinks immediately. I know exactly who punched Harry.

“Who punched you, Harry?” My voice is quiet.

“Well, we got into a bit of an argument about… well, it doesn’t matter what it was about but we got into an argument and it was all my fault, I pushed him first, then I pushed him again and I shouted at him but it was because I lost my cool, Ellie.”

“Harry, stop. Calm down.” I can’t deal with this; my brain just can’t keep up today. Well, I say today, but it’s 6.30pm. And yep, I’m still in my pyjamas and yep, I’ve been in bed all day. “Who hit you?”

“Zayn did but,”

“Why?” I interrupt him. For fucks sake.

“It was my fault.”

“Why did he hit you?”

He’s silent for a minute or two and I have to check my phone to make sure he hadn’t been cut off but he finally says, “He wouldn’t tell me why he is so bitter about me dating you.” Fuuuuuuck Zayn, seriously?

“What do you mean? What’s been going on? Tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. “Every time I mention you or talk about you he gets the arse, tells me I’m boring or something along those lines. It’s upsetting that he can’t be happy for me. From the first date he warned me away from you, he always tells me that you aren’t right for me, he even suggested the other night that you are playing me. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you any of this but it’s really got to me and I need to just get it off my chest.”

“It’s fine. It’s understandable. Zayn is your best friend so he is bound to be protective.” Absolute arsehole!!  “Do you need me to come to the minor injuries unit?” I ask him, shutting my eyes tightly, hoping he says no.

“You’d really come? I’m not on my own though, but I’d love it if you would come. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Text me the name of the place and I’ll be on my way.” We end the phone call and pull a pair of jeans on and a long stripy jumper to cover me in case I happen to leak while I’m out.

I hope to God that Zayn isn’t there or I may unleash ten tonnes of crazy on him. He really needs to stop this and I’m feeling pretty hormonal at the moment which isn’t helping!!

*

“Oh, babe, look at you!” I let out a gasp when I see Harry sitting on a chair in a private waiting room. He looks absolutely terrible; his poor jaw is swollen, his face is white and sweaty and he has a nice bit of dried blood under his lips. “How the hell did you manage to talk to me on the phone when your jaw is double the size?!” I sit next to him and kiss him gently on the lips.

“Thank you so much for coming.” He tries to smile.

“You didn’t bring many security guards with you, no?” I joke. He has 10 million security guards with him. There are bloody loads. But I suppose he needs them. I hate the thought of him getting mobbed by fans or the paparazzo.