invasato [h.s]

3

I shake my head a bit. "You're being really weird. I always come here alone."

I don't know what the hell has gotten into him this time around.

"Keep me updated, please." he repeats, his voice sounding in need of the reassurance.

I pause, processing his tone and what he was saying. I don't know what he's thinking but maybe he just freaked himself out because I was gone so long.

"Y-yeah. I will." I say into the phone.

"Thank you. I've gotta go." he says, before hanging up abruptly.

I take the phone from my ear and look down at the screen, puzzled. I don't know why Zayn was acting so weirdly.

I brush it off, I can ask him about it later. I leave this aise and walk down the one with the paints, grabbing what I was actually here for.

I needed a few new shades, so I picked up as many as I could think of. I pile them into my arms, wishing now that I had grabbed a basket on the way in.

With the bottles of paints piled in my arms, I make my way to the front counter where Marjorie was.

"That's all?" she makes the lighthearted sarcastic comment in her Italian accent as the numerous paint bottles dump onto the counter.

"Couldn't help myself." I laugh as I go into my purse to search for money.

"Big project you're working on?" she asks me as she scans the bottles and places them into a brown paper bag.

"You could say that." I murmur. "It's taking a lot out of me, actually."

"You'll be fine, I know it." she says.

"Yeah?" I tilt my head.

"Good things come to good people. You're good." she smiles at me.

My lips lift into a soft smile, feeling warm inside from her words. It made me feel good.

"Thank you," I smile. "How much do I owe you?" I ask, looking back down at the counter at the paints.

She shakes her head and waves off in a polite rejecting gesture. "On the house this time."

My mouth parts open as my hand freezes in my purse hanging off my shoulder.

"Oh no, let me pay—"

"No, consider it a gift."

"I couldn't possibly—"

"Elaina, sweetheart...you look like you could use some kindness. Take the paints and do something great."

I stand there, taken aback by her humanity with gratitude.

People like Marjorie give me some faith in this world.

She puts the paints into the paper bag and hands it off to me.

"Thank you, Marjorie. I will pay you back, I promise." I say as I head for the door with the bag in my arms.

"No you won't! It's a gift!" she repeats as she waves me off.

I smile as I walk out of the store, back onto the sunny Milan streets.

I walk down to the edge of the sidewalk, passing a few walkers as I stand on the ledge of the cobblestone in an attempt to wave down a cab.

It's moments like these where I wish I had my own car. I could ask Zayn for a ride back but I don't want to bother him...nor do I want those guys to be left alone in his villa.