Perrie POV
“Liam?” I say as I answer the phone.
“Hi Perrie,” Liam says, his voice seems sad.
“Are you ok?” I ask.
“No not really. Zayn’s auntie has passed away,” he tells me.
“Oh my god. Tell him I’m sorry,” I say.
“I need you to go to the airport.”
“What?”
“Zayn is flying home now. He should be landing in an hour.”
“I don’t think he’d be happy to see me.”
“He needs a friend and you’re the only person who is in London.”
“Ok, I’ll go. What airport?” I ask.
“Heathrow.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you Perrie. I know it’s hard,” he says.
“No problem. Thanks for calling,” I say.
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
I put the phone down and make my way downstairs. “Jade, I’m going out,” I say as I rush around to find my car keys. “What where?” she asks. “I’ll tell you later. I’m in a rush,” I say as I finally find my keys and run out of the door and into the car. The airport is about 45 minutes away so I should be fine but I don’t want to be late so I drive fast.
As I wait in the airport I get myself a coffee. It’s weird how there are no fans here, they usually flood the place but I guess it is late at night and they don’t know that Zayn is coming.
“Zayn!” I call as I see him walk out of the double doors. I run over to him and hug him tight.
“What are you doing here Perrie?” he asks as he doesn’t hug me back.
“I’m here as a friend and someone needs to drive you to Bradford,” I tell him.
“Just drive me home and I can drive myself,” he protests.
“Nope. I’m driving,” I order, “Come on.”
I turn and start walking out of the airport as he follows behind me. Seeing him was harder than I thought it would be. He doesn’t want me to be here but Liam woke me up so he’ll have to put up with me. We get in the car and I start driving.
“How are you?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Fine. How are you?” he says numbly.
“Been better.”
“How did you know I was gonna be here?”
“Liam called me,” I say and I see a confused look on his face.
“So what made you come?” he asks.
“Liam told me to. You need a friend,” I tell him.
“So we’re friends now?” he asks aggressively.
“Please stop,” I say as my eyes start to well up. Why was he being like this? I won’t fight with him. I know he is hurting more than I am. “How was America?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Let’s just stop making small talk, okay?” he says.
“Ok,” I say and wipe the single tear that has found its way out of my eyes.
