When Zayn's sister, Reyna, decides to move in with her brother, she never expected to be intertwined with his band. But one day when her brothers best friend, Harry, hears her singing and suggests that she be the lead singer of the band, she can't h...
This is part of a double update so make sure to read chapter 24 first!
T.W.- Explicit Content
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I'm tying my shoes when I hear a knock at my door.
"Come in!," I yell.
The door opens and I look towards it to find my brother leaning against the doorframe.
"I was just about to cook, did you want anything in particular?"
"Oh, no thanks," I say, standing up from my bed, "I'm just about to head out."
"Oh," Zayn says softly, "Where are you going?"
"To the cinema with a friend of mine," I grab some essentials and stuff them into my bag.
"Do you want me to drop you off?"
"No need," I push the strap onto my shoulder, "They're coming to pick me up."
"What time will you be home by?"
"I'm not sure, but I can text you with updates."
"Please do," Zayn pushes off the door way, "Have fun, Reyna."
He turns around and I hear the soft click of his door as it closes. I guess he's not even cooking for himself.
Guilt consumes my body as I think about how easily I let the lies slip between my lips.
The vibration of my phone catches my attention and I see a text from Harry informing me that he is downstairs.
I leave my apartment and head to the parking garage, looking around for Harry's familiar motorcycle, but it's nowhere to be found.
I look down at my phone, intending to ask Harry where he is at, but the sound of a car horn blaring interrupts me.
My head snaps up and a car window is being rolled down to reveal Harry with messy hair and a smirk behind the wheel.
"You coming Rey?," I shake my head with a laugh as I make my way over to the van and get into the passenger seat.
"Who's car is this and why are we in it?," I chuckle as I buckle my seat belt.
"It's my neighbors car, you were in it before but probably don't remember," his eyes shift quickly to mine before focusing on the key and twisting it to start the ignition.
I realize he is probably talking about the night that he picked me up drunk and high at Bryce's party and nervously pick at my cuticles at the thought of him seeing me like that.
Harry's hand meets the back of my headrest as his body turns so he can see the road he is backing into. His body twists forward once more as he begins to drive straight.
"Why are you nervous?," Harry asks me, eyes never leaving the road in front of him.
