"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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"Come on!" I whine as I latch our hands together and pull him out to the dance floor.
"Belle, I really don't want to. You know I don't dance," the dark haired boy groans with a roll of his golden eyes.
"Tonight you do," I smile up at Zayn when we reach the crowded dance floor, lights illuminating my tight lilac dress a deep purple.
One Direction's fourth album, Four, is releasing at midnight, and the excitement reaches around the world. Songs from the record have been playing all night at the release party, but I've barely been able to pay attention to any of them due to a little distraction called Zayn Malik.
All of the other boys have been elated, scurrying around to talk to friends and family, drinking and dancing like there's no tomorrow, and then there's Zayn. He's tried to act overjoyed whenever anyone talks to him, but I can easily tell something's been bothering him. Whatever it is, it has been for awhile now, and even though he thinks he's been doing a good job at hiding his sadness, it takes one to know one, so I haven't been oblivious to it.
"Loosen up, DJ Malik," I grab both of his hands and start to shimmy his tense shoulders and all he can do is grin down at me sadly as if I didn't already know he doesn't like dancing. "So you want to tell me what's been going on?"
Grabbing onto his shoulders when the song drastically changes from an upbeat melody about loaded guns or something to one that begins slowly with Niall's soft voice, I pull slightly closer to Zayn, running my hands down the length of his black suit coat covered arms in an attempt to calm him down. I take control and allow him to follow my lead as we sway to the beat, just two friends sharing a moment that's needed to be shared for some time now.
"Nothing's wrong," he breathily laughs and runs a hand over his scruffy jaw nervously, eyes struggling to meet my gaze.
"I didn't ask what was wrong, Zayn. I asked you what's been going on, so therefore something is wrong," I point out with a tilt of my head and strong knowingness pouring from my eyes that almost match the shade of his.
Finally, Zayn rolls his eyes and starts chewing on the inside of his cheek, letting his real emotions surge forward past his act of false content. "What do you mean? Nothing's wrong, Belle. I'm the quiet one, remember? I'm supposed to be like this."
"Just because that's how you're forced to act in the public eye doesn't mean that's how you have to act in your normal life," I look up at him with my eyebrows drawing together slowly in somberness. "You weren't always like this."
The boy's cold face softens upon the meeting of our eyes and his mouth opens slightly as he lets out a small breath in resignation. "At least someone has noticed," he grumbles in reference to who I can only assume are his band mates.
