It All Started with a Tweet [Zayn Malik]

14: The Date

kind of late and not all that good of a chapter. but a bad update's better than no update, i guess????? idk

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What had I gotten myself into? An achingly large irreversible mess. That’s what.

                Freddie was due to pick me up in just under fifteen minutes, and I was still completely overwhelmed over the situation I was in to be able to pause for a moment and actually pick an outfit.

                We were going out on a date; and I wondered where this left us. Obviously we were going out, but it wasn’t far off before the terms ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ would be thrown into the mix. Thinking about the future triggered an additional unsettling feeling to surface. I didn’t like to think about what laid ahead, mostly because I knew that somebody was going to end up hurt. And I would be to blame.

                I pulled my dress over my head with unsteady hands.  Freddie was taking me to a place called Breadsticks. It was an Italian restaurant which always seemed to host special dinners for the residents of western Leeds.  Inside there were always large tables of people celebrating birthdays, team breakups or family gatherings.

                It was also a popular destination for dates among students at my high school. We were bound to run into someone we’d recognise from a year above or below us. It scared me. If we were seen out together, the news would spread fast, just like when he broke up with Eleanor Fletcher.

                I surveyed my appearance in the mirror, making a few adjustments here and there. I didn’t apply much make up, as my main goal wasn’t to impress.

                But what was my main goal? Tonight didn’t serve any importance in the plan. It was just a date that … didn’t involve Zayn by any means. I scheduled it just out of my own sake.  But why? Why did I do such a thing? That was a question I couldn’t answer.

                Just as I applied a coat of mascara to my eyelashes I heard the doorbell ring. My stomach dropped, and the hand which held the brush froze in mid swipe. All I could do was stand there and watch my still reflection.

                I heard the door open; a sound which I sighed in relief at. It meant that I wouldn’t have to trot down there and face him myself. But then I heard my father speaking to Freddie, and I knew I had to get down there as soon as possible before he said something that would scare the brown haired boy away from the Turner residence for numerous years. I jammed the mascara brush into its tube and dropped it on the dresser, abandoning any care I once felt for it.

                When I arrived at the foot of the stares I came to an unexpected sight; my dad conducting a civilised conversation for once. He was cracking jokes about ‘not laying a hand on his daughter’ and all that crap that dads say. Freddie was merely trying to make a good impression; laughing at his horrid and overused gags and promising to treat me well.

                For a second there, everything felt normal. I was going out to a restaurant with a guy from my high school on a Saturday night, just like you see in the movies. The whole Zayn/Twitter drama soon fled my mind.

                Freddie’s blue irises met mine. The corners of his mouth curled upwards. It was like it was the prom or formal, and he’d just laid eyes on his date, all dressed up in a breathtaking gown.  I half expected for my mum to snap a picture.

                I didn’t look that amazing, did I? I spent a minimal amount of time fixing my hair and makeup and the simple dress I wore had been in the cupboard for a few months.