Capture

The Slap

Climbing the stairs back to my apartment, my mind was a mess of Liam.

We were so close. Inches away. That look in his eyes—he wanted to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. And I hate that I wanted to. Every logical part of me knew he was a walking red flag, but still... there was that spark. A dangerous, magnetic pull.

I reached our floor and paused, my eyes drawn—stupidly—to his red door like it might explain what just happened. As if staring at chipped paint and worn brass numbers would somehow spell out who the hell Liam really was.

I took a few slow steps toward it, reached out, and let my fingers graze the surface. It was cold and rough under my palm, flaking against my touch. I felt tethered there—like something about him was just waiting to be understood.

Idiot. I shook myself out of it and went back to my side of the hallway, slamming my own door shut.

Monday hit like a slap.

I walked into Capture, coffee-deprived and emotionally fried. Sarah waved at the front desk, and I gave her a half-hearted smile as I made my way to the lifts. The moment I reached my desk, I poured coffee and popped in a drive labeled Downton Abbey Cast - Edits. Familiar faces filled my screen.

Safe. Predictable. No red doors or maddening grins.

"Did you know you stick your tongue out when you concentrate?" Niall's voice jolted me so hard I nearly spilled coffee all over Maggie Smith's face.

"Jesus, Niall!" I clutched my chest.

He just grinned. "It's kind of cute. Like a weird little focus tick."

"Apparently, it's genetic. My dad and brothers do it too."

"Well," he said, still smirking, "monkey see, monkey do."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Lunch?"

"It's 12:30."

"What? No—" I glanced at the clock. "Holy shit."

"Told you. Time flies when you're making out with Matthew Crawley on screen." He winked.

The kitchen was crowded. Perrie chatted with Zayn by a box of deliveries. Liam stood nearby, arms crossed, silent—until his eyes found mine. That same half-smile. A flicker of the elevator memory surged back. My stomach twisted.

"Hey, Liam," Niall greeted.

"Hi," Liam replied coolly.

"Good weekend?"

"Same old." He didn't look at Niall. He looked at me.

I felt... deflated. No mention of the elevator. No joke. No callback. Just silence.

"You alright over there, doll face?" he asked, smug.

Rage replaced disappointment in a heartbeat. "I'm fine."

"Wow. Someone's grumpy."

"I was fine," I snapped, "until you showed up."

"Ouch."

Niall slowly backed away. "I'll, uh... give you two some space."

Coward. Liam sat next to me. "You know," I said under my breath, "after yesterday, I thought maybe something had changed."

"You think one elevator ride is enough to rewrite history?" he said, chuckling darkly.

"You tried to kiss me."

He leaned in, voice a hushed taunt. "It was either that or listen to you nag me for another ten minutes."

I blinked. "You are such a—"

"Let's be honest, doll face. You're not the first girl I've almost kissed in an elevator."

I didn't think. I slapped him. A crack echoed through the kitchen. Gasps followed. Liam turned away, hand cupping his cheek. I stood up, heart thundering, shame and fury tangled in my throat. Then I bolted.

Outside, the cool air smacked some sense into me. I sat on the curb, wiping hot tears from my face, furious at myself for letting him get to me.

"Nice hit." I looked up. Zayn—Liam's tattooed, ever-silent shadow—stood beside me, cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Thanks," I sniffed.

"You alright?"

"No."

He sat next to me, quiet for a beat. "You shouldn't let him get under your skin."

"He's an asshole."

Zayn chuckled. "He is. But... he's not just that."

"I keep hearing that," I muttered, "but the evidence is lacking."

He didn't argue. Just let the moment breathe. My eyes drifted to his hands—faint stains of spray paint clung to his fingers. "You paint?"

He blinked, surprised. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

I pointed. "Your hands. Dead giveaway."

He smiled faintly. "I dabble."

"Well, Zayn—it was nice to meet you." I stood, and so did he. "Emma," I added, realizing I'd never said my name.

"Emma," he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded.

I nodded, about to leave, but he called after me. "Hey—Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Perrie... seeing anyone?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'll let you know."

His face lit up. "And Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let the bastard get you down."

I smiled, hand still tingling from the slap. "I won't."