Elaina Basset
"He's a dick! I mean he always has this stupid smug look on his face that makes me want to slap him." I rant about Harry in front of the laptop screen as Angela listens from the other side.
"Why don't you slap him?" she questions as I make my bed.
"Because..." I hesitate, "I'm not that kind of person."
"Or you're scared of him." Angela shrugs with a small smirk upon her lips.
I stand up straight in offence, giving her a sharp glare through the screen from my standing position a few feet away.
"I'm not scared of him. I just can't stand him." I defend.
Harry is intimidating but I don't feel fear towards him. Just discomfort. I don't know what he's about—what kind of person he is. I definitely don't trust him...and I want him out of here.
And I have every right to feel that way.
I don't really trust easily anymore anyway. I used to. I used to be such a giving, open hearted person. I loved to trust, I loved my empathy. But, that was all ripped away from me. I've been stripped of a lot of goodness inside me. I'm not bad, but I'm not the same person that I was.
"Well it's only five more days, right? Can't be that hard." Angela says.
"Easier said than done. I feel judged every time he even just glances at me." I huff.
"Maybe you need to stand your ground. Tell him off and let him know that you were there first." she suggests.
"He'll probably laugh at me." I shake my head.
"Then you slap him." she laughs, making the tone a little more lighthearted.
I called her because I really just needed to vent about how I felt. I had so much. built up frustration from the painting to Harry...it's messing with how I feel.
The timing probably couldn't have been worse, because it's not like I can hold off painting until they're gone. The day they're supposed to leave is the same day that I'm meant to submit my painting in.
No one can understand the stress I'm under, and no one really seems to care either.
Not even Zayn. He's been so busy with the guys.
"Hey, listen." Angela speaks again, "I should probably go...it's getting really late here.."
"Oh yeah, of course. Thank you for talking to me." I force a grateful smile which she returns.
"Oh, and Elaina..." she pauses before hanging up. "I know how hard it is for you to trust...and I know you're trying to work past it...but go with your gut on this one okay?" she says.
I stand there, intaking what she just told me.
Is she telling me...not to trust Harry?
As odd as that was, she said goodbye and hung up. I felt sort of bewildered at how weird of a statement that was. I couldn't really decipher what she meant except that she told me to go with my gut.
And my gut told me not to trust Harry...or the other guys except Zayn for that matter.
Last night in bed I tried to tell myself that everything I'm feeling is just in my head. That I'm conjuring up all of these unnecessary weighting feelings that I don't need to actually be feeling.
But now I don't know.
Now I'm even more conflicted.
I finish up in my room and go towards the stairs to the kitchen. I could already hear all of the commotion down there so I knew everyone was in that general area.
I'm hungry, though. I'm not gonna let them make me feel like a prisoner in the place I'm staying in.
I walk down the stairs, trying to straighten out my posture to somehow appear more confident.
As I approach down the steps, I can see all of them scattered around the kitchen, making conversation.
Liam, Zayn and Louis were at the table while Harry was leaning against the sink counter and Niall was sitting up on the counter.
"Elaina!" Niall acknowledges my presence, causing all of them to look at me.
"I'm just grabbing something to eat and then I'll leave you guys alone—"
"No, stay. You're not interrupting at all." Zayn says, standing up and draping his arm over my shoulder.
I haven't really talked to Zayn much after the situation yesterday when he brought me up to my room. I haven't asked him about it, or expressed how I felt...the whole tone between us has been the same apart from that.
"What are you guys doing?" I ask, sitting down in a chair next to Zayn.
"Just chatting."
"About?" I question.
"Oh," Zayn shortly shakes his head, "nothing."
"No, Zayn. Tell her what we were talking about." Harry suddenly speaks up from his position against the counter. He had his arms crossed. I don't understand why he has to be so mysterious and discreet about everything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the quick glare that Zayn gave to Harry.
I glance at Harry, seeing the complacent look upon his face that let me know he knew something I didn't.
I don't think I've ever seen him without that smirk.
I turn to Zayn, putting my hand on his arm and furrowing my brows.
"What does he mean?" I ask quietly.
I watch as Zayn tightens his jaw before looking from Harry to me.
"We're...uhm—" he hesitates. "We're going out to a bar tonight."
I arch my brow, slipping my hand from off of Zayn's arm as I look around confused.
"Okay? That's it?" I question.
"Come with us, Picasso. Loosen up a bit." Harry poses the backhanded suggestion, making me look at him.
"I-I have to keep working on—"
"On your painting, Christ, we know." Harry throws his head back with a groan of annoyance.
"C'mon," Niall speaks, "Can't you come have some fun for a night?"
"If she wants to stay here, we should let her stay here—" Zayn mumbles as he picks at his fingernails, looking at the table.
He seems off.
"I think she should come too." Louis acknowledges, then Liam chimes in with a 'me too'.
"4 against 1. She's coming." Harry persists.
Why he wants me to come out with them tonight, I have no idea. It honestly seems like he's trying to spite Zayn, who—for some reason—seemingly doesn't want me to come.
"What about what I want?" I raise my hand in opposition.
"It doesn't shock me that you'd want to stay back and be alone all night..." Harry mutters. "But, if you couldn't notice, we're trying to help you out."
"How?" I shake my head.
"By helping you live a little. Jesus, you're impossible to get through to." he scoffs back.
I'm impossible?!
Trying to bite my tongue, I look away from Harry and back to Zayn who was still next to me with an unsure look on his face.
"Why don't you want me to go?" I ask.
Zayn runs his tongue across his bottom lip, inhaling through his nose sharply--as if he didn't want to answer.
"I just don't think it's a good idea...you know, there's a lot of weirdos out there at night--"
"C'mon, Malik. She has us." Liam suggests. "Right guys?"
Louis and Niall nod in agreement. Harry does nothing.
"Anything could happen. You guys should know that." Zayn mutters through clenched teeth, trying to mask his frustration from me yet express it to them.
"So you're gonna keep her cooped up here?"
"Okay, enough." I stand up, finally fed up with the back and forth about my own unmade choices. "I don't need any of you to make my decisions for me. I'm not going." I say finally as I leave the table, the kitchen falling quiet.
I shake my head with internal aggravation as I leave the kitchen and walk outside. I don't know exactly where I'm going or what I'm doing out here but I just don't want to be inside that house with them.
I'm really struggling to keep my sanity. It feels like I have no control left anymore. Call it dramatic, but I want my space back.
Maybe it would be easier if Harry was nicer...or less intolerable.
I lean against the outer wall with my head against the brick, my eyes closed as the slight breeze blows in my hair and fans my eyelashes, my arms cross over my stomach.
My mind is so scattered. And as happy as I am to be here in Italy, I do miss a lot of things.
Most of them I can still go back to...but some I can't.
My mom. I really miss my mom.
"Hey." I hear a voice to my left, making my eyes open to see Zayn standing next to me.
I shut my eyes again and relax against the wall once more.
"Hi."
"I know it was weird in there, I'm sorry—"
"It's been weird for the past three days, Zayn."
"I know." he mumbles.
"I feel like I'm on trial whenever I speak to Harry. I can't do it for much longer." I rant.
"I know, I'll talk to him—"
"And why don't you want me to go out?" I go deeper into the rant, opening my eyes now and lifting my body off the wall. "Why do you want me to stay back?"
His eyes go wide for a very brief second as his lips part, like he wasn't expecting me to ask these questions.
"Elaina,"
"I just want an explanation."
"I told you there's sick people out there."
"That's not good enough." I shake my head, crossing my arms. "You've never been this way about me going out—but suddenly you're all overprotective."
He sighs to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"You know what?" I continue. "I am going to go to the bar with you guys tonight and you're not going to say anything about it. I can handle myself."
Was I doing this just to spite Zayn? Yes. There isn't any other reason that I'd want to go out tonight, in all honestly I would rather stay here.
But I've never been one to comply.
So I'm going. I'll get through this night and then pretend it didn't happen.
Hours later, I was in my room getting ready to go out.
I'm trying really hard to be optimistic...maybe it won't be as bad as I'm expecting. I'll drink a little bit and become a little more carefree with the alcohol.
It'll be fine. That's what I keep repeating in my head.
I put on a black mini skirt and a tight white top, leaving my hair in its natural wavy state. I don't normally go out, so dressing up isn't common for me.
But tonight will be an exception.
I look in the mirror one final time before letting a huff of air escape my lips and leaving the room. I walk downstairs where all the guys were.
I could smell the cologne lingering in the air, multiple pairs of different colored eyes drifting to my entrance.
"Looking good, red." Niall smirks as I come down.
I press my lips into a smile as I clutch my purse at my side. "Thanks." I murmur, still looking at Niall. He was in ripped tight blue jeans and a grey t shirt with a red flannel overtop. "You too." I return the compliment.
"Cab's here. Let's go." Harry suddenly speaks and begins to walk out of the kitchen. He was dressed in black skinny jeans and a black and white button up shirt in which the white made up the patterns of the shirt. His hair was fluffy, falling around his ears and framing his face.
The one thing I will hand to Harry is that he is extremely attractive. His face holds chiseled features and his green eyes and pink lips set them all in place.
If he weren't such a dick, he'd probably be even more handsome.
We walk down the driveway toward the white car at the end of it. It wasn't a regular taxi. It was bigger with more seats, because there's six of us.
There were three seats behind the driver and then another set of three behind those seats. Harry, Liam and Louis sat in the set in front, while Zayn, Niall and I took the back.
I sat against the furthest window with Zayn next to me, my hand resting in my chin as we drove.
This isn't ideal—going to a bar with five men, only one of which I actually am comfortable with.
I'm just gonna get drunk and hope for the best. Maybe something good will come of it...maybe I can actually start to get along with these guys.
I doubt it.
I rested the side of my head against the window as the guys made conversation that I kept tuned out. The ride to the bar was about fifteen minutes long.
When we got there, I noticed just how packed this bar was. There were plenty of people here and the music was pounding from the inside so loudly that we could hear it as soon as we got out of the car.
Although I was mad at him, I stuck by Zayn's side as we walked in. My senses were immediately met with people dancing, loud voices and the smell of alcohol.
Zayn put his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd like he knew exactly where he was headed.
I'm led by Zayn over to a section of the bar that was tied off by red velvet rope, but Zayn simply lifted the rope for all of us to go through.
Instantly I grew confused. Isn't this the vip section? What the hell are we doing here?
"Aren't we gonna get kicked out if we—"
"Relax, Picasso." Harry smirks as he sits himself down on one of the red couches, man spreading. He then looks over to Zayn who was standing next to me. "You haven't told her, Z?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry." Zayn quickly responds through clenched teeth.
Harry's smirk only grows, as if he's extremely satisfied with himself.
As always, I have no idea what's happening but I'm just going to shut my mouth and get through this.
I sit down on the opposite couch with Zayn and Louis, while Liam and Niall were on the one adjacent from us with Harry.
"Have you been here before?" I ask Zayn. "You just seem to know your way around."
Zayn clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, a few times."
"Why haven't you brought me?" I arch my brow.
I can sense Harry looking, but I don't acknowledge it.
Zayn gives a little shrug. "Just didn't seem like your scene, you know?"
I tilt my head, wondering where he could've got that thought from because I wouldn't usually turn down an opportunity to drink and have fun.
In Denver I partied all the time.
"Why don't we get some drinks?" I hear Liam suddenly say, cutting off the conversation.
"Yes, so Picasso can loosen up a little." Harry says as he leans back.
For some reason, this made me angrier than anything else he's said—or maybe it's been all of the remarks he's made building up inside me and this just set me off...but the next thing I knew, I was on my feet and I was pissed, looking right at Harry.
"What did I do to you to make you so resentful towards me?" I say, watching as his eyes make contact with mine and his lips part. "I haven't even spoken to you this whole time yet you've been making all of these sarcastic remarks! I've done nothing to make you do this."
Harry just watches me, his arms extended over the back of the couch, not saying anything.
It didn't take me long to realize that the other guys were watching me as well, eyes wide.
I guess they weren't expecting me to speak up.
"Just..." I shake my head in frustration, "Stop telling me to relax. I'm going outside."
"Elaina, wait—" Zayn tries to grab me but I pull my arm away.
"I need to go outside for a minute. Leave me alone."
With that, I leave that seating area and lift the velvet rope so I can leave. No one stops me but it's not like I wanted to be stopped.
I can feel that awful lump in my throat—the one you get when you're so angry and fed up but you can't tell anyone. It's just me and my head right now.
I push through the crowded floor and make my way to the exit. The front doors were occupied by ushers, so I decide to just take the back exit instead.
I manage to make it out, ending up in a back alley that was pretty dark and only was provided light by the bulbs hanging from the building.
I'm not an idiot, I know it's not good to be hanging around a back alley in the darkness alone, but I'm right next to the door so if anything happens I'll have enough time to make a getaway.
I blow a fed up exhale through my mouth, my back against the brick wall.
I look down at my purse, reminding myself of what I had brought with me in case I got too frustrated like this.
I open up my purse and reach inside for the package of cigarettes.
I'm not a smoker...I've only done it once or twice but I've heard that it can relieve your stress...and right now, that's what I need.
I take the small red lighter and bring one of the sticks to my lips, cupping my hand around it so the flame could catch.
It took everything in my not to cough up a lung once I felt the smoke fill my airways. A lot of people can look cool while smoking a cigarette, whereas I look like a cat vomiting.
I inhale and blow the excess smoke out, shutting my eyes as I rest my head against the wall.
"You told me you don't smoke." I hear the sudden voice from the doorway, making me open my eyes and look in that direction.
Harry was walking out of the door and shutting it, now standing in the back alley with me.
This is the last thing that I want.
"I don't."
"That's a bad habit to pick up." he says, standing against the brick wall across from me now.
I shut my eyes again and lean against the wall. "Why are you out here? I said I wanted to be alone." The cigarette was between my fingers now.
"Zayn would like me to apologize." he states, making my eyes open to see him with his arms resting behind his back against the wall, he was slightly slouched over but his face held no remorse.
"So, are you?" I ask.
"Do you want an apology from me?" he arches his brow.
"Honestly, not if isn't sincere. And considering Zayn sent you out here, then no. I don't want your 'apology'." I do a quoting motion with my fingers, slightly rolling my eyes.
He looks at me up and down with his bottom lip between his teeth.
"You don't like me." he simply says.
I look at him as if he has six heads, my brows creasing together. "You can't just come and invade my space and talk to me this way."
"You've never dealt with confrontation haven't you?"
I just scoff, shaking my head.
"What exactly am I confronting? You're just an asshole." I shoot.
"And you're stuck up."
"Fuck you."
The intense words leave my mouth out of pure anger. I couldn't help it, he was provoking me.
When I say it, his brows raise a bit.
I don't know if I regret it or not, but honestly, in the moment it felt pretty good. I didn't want to show myself recoiling back from my insult, because that would just give him the upper hand.
"You've been waiting on that for a while, huh." his lips curl.
I let out a laugh—not a joyful one, but the type of laugh where you can't fathom what is being said to you.
"I'm done talking to you." I mutter.
"Picasso, I came out here for you."
"No, you came out here because Zayn told you too. And my name isn't Picasso, it's Elaina." I throw my cigarette on the ground, stepping on it to put it out before going back inside.
I knew Harry was going to follow, because he wouldn't just stay outside for no reason...but I'm not talking to him.
I can't handle him anymore.
I need to get drunk.
I walk back through the partying bodies, heading straight for the bar.
A bartender stood behind the counter in a white shirt with a black towel hanging over his shoulder. He looked a bit older than me with blonde hair and a broad build.
I go up to the counter and slap my palms against the surface.
"I need a drink." I say, causing this bartender to arch his brow and look at me, laughing under his breath.
"Alright. What can I get for you, then?"
I shake my head. "I don't care. Surprise me."
He pulls a small smile, looking me up and down.
"Well, a pretty girl like you deserves our best. Let me see what I can do." he winks before turning back to the drinks.
I sit up on a barstool and rest my chin in my palm as I wait. I look around me, seeing the vip section where the guys were. Harry had made his way back there and he was talking to Zayn now.
I caught Zayn glancing at me and Harry as well, but I ignored it and looked away.
"Try this one out." the bartender comes back with a glass in his hand, his palm covering the top.
"What is it?" I grab the glass, bringing it under my nose to smell.
It was sweet smelling with that small hint of vodka.
"One of my favorites." he says and I give him a short smile before bringing the glass to my lips.
I let the alcohol hit my tongue and run down my throat, taking a decent sized sip because I wanted to drink fast and get drunk quicker.
The bartender watches me the entire time.
"So, are you here alone?" he questions, making conversation as I drink.
I shake my head with the glass to my lips.
"No, I'm here with my roommate." I respond.
"Ah." he says, still watching me for another moment before he looks behind him at the clock mounted on the wall. "Well, listen. I think you're beautiful. My shift ends in twenty minutes if you want to maybe get out of here."
I furrow my brows as I sip.
Is he hitting on me?
When that realization sets in, a sudden—scarier one—does as well. I suddenly started to feel really dizzy.
I blink a couple times, wondering if it was all in my head, the way my vision was bouncing around.
I felt my throat drying out, and my body felt light.
I look back at the bartender who was watching me.
"I-I don't..." I start to speak but I can't seem to form a full sentence.
I think my drink was drugged.
I stare at the bartender in fear, knowing that he was the only person besides myself that handled the drink.
By the second, I feel more and more out of control of my body.
I stumble off the stool, my heart beginning to pound. The music in the bar was pulsating through my ringing eardrums.
I found myself stumbling through the people, praying that the bartender wasn't behind me. I felt like I was going to trip over my feet, like they were almost cemented to the ground.
"Help—" I croak, not being able to form more than a few words.
I can see the guys in the vip section, and my mouth opens to squeak a short 'Zayn' in desperation.
I must have been louder than I thought, because through my blurry vision I saw multiple figures hurrying up to me.
Just as I went to collapse, not being able to hold my body up anymore, I felt two people grab onto each of my arms to keep me up.
I heard my name, I think, amongst other muffled things.
I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, I felt myself falling really fast into a unconscious state of mind.
Until eventually, I just saw black.