She was due to lunch with two of her best friends and she dressed accordingly. She dawned her blue shaded Diane von Furstenburg cardigan, Jenny Packham sequined mini dress, and strappy Jimmy Choo platform stilettos. Jessica Palermo was a fashionista in her own right, however she was a creative designer by hard work and official title. When she moved to London, it wasn’t on a whim for self- discovery. It was because she earned a job that she put high on her list. She was the creative director of Alexander McQueen after the talented Sarah Burton stepped down to live a new life. Jessica thought she would head back to Italy and apprentice with the likes of Giorgio Armani once again, but fate had another idea in mind. By now, she had been in London for two years and set her position in the fashion world as a force to be reckoned with. She had her fair share of love interests. She was a lover with a strong sense of passion and she knew what she wanted in life.
As she headed to the Ivy, paparazzi swarmed her, tossing questions at her left and right. She ignored them for the most part, but one in particular struck a chord with her as she hid behind her flawless, black rimmed Chanel frames. “Are you as miserable as you look without Zayn?” With a cock of the eyebrow and a pulling down of her fabulous sunglasses, she answered the question with the same ignorance that the paparazzi displayed. “Clearly, I’m doing just fine.” She never answered questions about Zayn, even while they were dating. Those were off limits, seeing that management never approved of such a girl for his image. They kept their relationship private, but the break up didn’t seem to be that way. The break up was everything that they were, passionate. It broke her to the depths of her heart. She loved Zayn so much, to that day even. She wouldn’t let him hear about this and have the satisfaction of knowing that she was dying slowly inside without the feeling of his fingertips grazing her lips, his bright eyes in the morning, and his dark lust-filled eyes at night. He was forbidden to find out. She was Jessica Palermo and she was doing “just fine.”
Over lunch, she acted as if nothing happened as she stuck her fork into her overpriced salad. She gazed down at her freshly manicured nails and remembered how Zayn loved this pink color on her. Her mood was just as phony as she felt without him. Her friends noticed and they tried to bring up the subject that caused Jessica so much grief. Stephanie reached over and touched Jessica’s bronzed hand. She whispered her nickname, “Jess.” Jessica didn’t even look up when she told her not to call her that. Her tone was harsh, but they knew. They understood. Every morning he would gaze into her mirror-like brown eyes and whisper that to her before gently rubbing her face. It ignited so many unwanted emotions. She shoved her glasses back on her face, reached in her Alexander Wang ‘Rocco’ bag for its matching wallet, and threw forty dollars on the table before leaving with gazed eyes.
That night, she cuddled up in her plush sheets and broke her diet for chocolate ice cream and rainbow sprinkles. It couldn’t soothe the pain, but it would do for the time being. Just as she pushed in Anchors Away featuring Gene Kelly, her iPhone lit up in its Tory Burch case. Harry Styles. As weird as it seemed, he was still her friend and he knew why Zayn broke up with her more than she could understand. Jessica answered the phone and swiftly called out, “Haz.” He let out a low, breathy chuckle that she loved so much.
“So, I heard you went to the Ivy today.”
Damn.
“Hazza, this better be good. I have important things to attend to.”
“Preston heard what you said to the paparazzi and he wants to have you talk to management.”
“No.”
“Jessica, I promise that I’ll be there the entire time. It shouldn’t be that bad.”
With a groan to display obvious frustration, she answered. “When?”
