Playing With Fire || z.m

"Scum belongs in the gutter."

My goddddd this is getting harder and harder to write with each chapter!!! I rewrote this chapter about 4 times and I’m still not happy with it. It’s doing my nut in. Hope its okay. Thanks all for reading, please comment and vote x

ELLIE

“Look, that’s her.” I hear a bunch of girls chattering in the seats opposite from mine on the train.

I jumped on the early train to work to avoid the crowds. I really can’t be dealing with people today I’m just not in the mood. My bloody phone won’t turn on either which is really pissing me off. How am I supposed to sit here for 20 minutes on this train with sod all to do?

“That’s definitely her!” One of the girls says and I can’t help but turn my head to see who they are looking at.

“Oh my God it is!!!” Another one squeals. They’re all looking at me. Why are they all looking at me? My heart lurches. Has a photo been leaked of Harry and I? Have his fans finally tracked down a photo of me? Oh bloody hell this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This puts another reason onto my cons list of dating Harry Styles. I do not want to be in the public eye. Another reason for me to finish it.

“Can I help you?” I find myself asking the four girls. I say girls but they look around my age, all pretty, leggy blondes.

“Are you Ellie Taylor?” One asks, a sly smile on her face. I nod nervously. “You might want to read this, babe.” The one closest to me passes me a copy of The Metro, the free newspaper given out on London Transport. I take it from her looking at the article she just gave me.

‘Zayn Malik’s sordid love affair revealed.’

No.

No no no no no no.

Holy fucking shitting bollocks.

NO.

There are three photos with the article; one of me with Harry leaving the hospital, one of Zayn and Harry with the band from a while ago and one of Zayn and I stealing a kiss outside his house.

I can’t even hold the paper still enough for me to try to read the article, my hands are trembling and my body is covered in goose pimples.

“You’re such an arsehole.” One of the blonde spits as they all stand up and I notice the train is rolling into London Victoria Station.

“Home wrecker.” Another one jeers and they all pile off the train onto the busy station.

I can’t move. I’m glued to the seat, the paper still in my hands. What the fuck do I do now? Why wasn’t I warned about this? Well maybe I was but my phone won’t bloody switch on!! I stuff the paper into my tan leather handbag and leap off the train, running down the platform as quickly as I possibly can so that I can get to work and try and charge my phone. I need to switch this bloody thing on.

I arrive at work feeling as though I’ve just run a freaking marathon. My stomach feels as though I’ve done a million press ups after my run-in with Zayn yesterday. I fall into my desk chair and empty my bag onto my desk, shakily plugging my phone onto charge. Come on, phone, come on.

My patience is wearing thin today, I may smash this fucking thing if it doesn’t turn on.

Pushing it out of the way, I grab the paper and smooth it out in front of me. I start to read the article but my brain just can’t absorb the words. It’s no use. I can’t do anything right now except sit and hyperventilate.

Oh God oh God oh God. This cannot be happening.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” I hear from my left. I snap my head around to see Jasmine sauntering through the office. From her tone I can tell she’s heard.