Storms {z.m.}

Chapter 61

(no trailer for this one, jst putting it on here for you guys! Be sure to comment and vote, and dont forget to watch the One Direction TV Special on NBC tonight ! Also, I previously said there would only be a total of 62 chapters, but that has changed. There will now be 63 chapters total; the last chapter will still be uploaded Sunday the 28th. That's less than a week away!! xx -F)

Chapter 61 – Christine

“Poppy, call me back. I really need to talk to you. Please, just call me back,” I say in my seventh voicemail to Poppy's inbox. I've been calling her non-stop since I got into my cab, and she's sent me to voicemail after a couple rings every time. She's avoiding me on purpose.

“Thank you,” I tell the cabby as I hand him a couple of notes for the cab fare. I duck my head out of the back seat of the car and step onto the sidewalk in front of Liya and Zayn's building. Ever since I got to London I've been running back and forth all day and haven't had much time to really look at the building, but as I'm walking up to the front door I notice that the walls are painted a navy blue colour, making them almost blend in with the night sky. Maybe that's why I never noticed it before; this is one of the only times I've entered the building during the day.

I push past the front door and rush into the elevator, pressing the button for Liya's floor several times impatiently. Just before the doors are about to shut, an arm reaches inside causing them to open again. For a split second, I see Harry's curls peeking from under a black beanie, but as soon as the image appears, it dissipates. The man who enters the elevator is just a lanky guy with curly hair, but it's not Harry. I don't think Harry could even walk more than a couple feet at this point, not to mention he's bald now.

“Could you push ten, please?” the guy asks. I nod and push the button for him, still too encircled by my own thoughts to even utter a word to the stranger next to me.

“Hey, wait. Aren't you that girl from the pictures?” he asks, his voice raising a couple of octaves higher in excitement. I've never been told I look like any celebrity before, so I have no idea what he could be talking about.

“No, sorry,” I say. I give him an apologetic smile and turn back to face the elevator doors. The elevator gently picks up from the ground floor and I'm faintly aware of the way the small room spins around me.

“Are you sure? You look just like that '1D mystery whore' chick,” he replies stepping closer to me. I look over at him and notice he's holding out his oversized cellphone, on the screen is a picture of me with Zayn. I blink my eyes rapidly and do a double take to make sure my eyes aren't deceiving me, but they aren't. I snatch the cellphone from the boy's hands and look at the picture even more closely. I took this picture on Zayn's cellphone the night when he said he would give me a chance; the night when, after years of anticipation, I finally felt his lips on mine. He's covering his face with his hand, but the large tattoo on the top of his hand gives him away without a doubt.

“Where did you find this?” I shout at him. I want to look over at him to see his reaction, but I can't peel my eyes away from the picture on the screen. After I took this picture, I never sent it to myself so I had forgotten it even existed. It's bittersweet to see it now. Part of me feels warm inside when I remember a time when things between Zayn and I were simple and positive, but another part of me feels violated that such an intimate moment is in the hands of a complete stranger.

“It's all over twitter. You really do everything they're saying you do?” the boy asks with a mischievous grin on his face. I try not to let out an audible squeak when he says that my picture is all over twitter.

“What are they saying?” I ask him, even though the last thing I want to know at this moment is what the internet thinks about me. The only thing I want to do is stop this stupid wedding.