Violet
I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it, but I know that it feels so right. Zayn's surprising me. I thought I knew him; but I don't. This whole night, it's been ... fun. And I'm really starting to enjoy Zayn's company. There's a warning sign going off in my head, but I don't listen. After all, what's the worse that can happen tonight? It's only one night, only one night I'll be trapped on the fifth floor of Harrods with Zayn Malik. I might as well enjoy it.
I don't know what the time is, but I know it's late. It has to be. It feels like we've been in here for hours. And I'm starting to think that Zayn's right. No one cares about us. We could be missing for days and the school would just take our names off the roll, or probably not even do that. I wonder if Liam even knows I'm missing. Did he walk to my dorm, or get worried when Avery and Niall returned and I didn't? Surely he must have. And his phone will be flat, or lying around somewhere. Because I know Liam, and I know he's not usually like this. I know him.
I'm busy reading the Harrods catalogue, a stray one I found behind the counter, when I hear music coming from Zayn's side. We'd been sitting in silence for a while and so to hear any kind of noise, let alone music, surprises me. I look over at him and see him listening to his MP3 player.
"What the hell?" I ask, a little louder than intended.
His eyes glance up at me and he turns his music down a little. "What?"
"What are you doing?" Where did that come from?
He looks at me blankly. "Listening to music?"
"You mean you've had that the whole time?"
He shrugs. "Yeah?"
"You brought that, but not your phone?" Useless. Totally useless.
He takes one headphone out. "Even if I did bring my phone, it'd have been no help. I don't have anyone's numbers."
I hold my head back and sigh. "Of course not," I say.
"Hey, hold on. What's that supposed to mean?" He snaps.
"It's supposed to mean that you're useless," I reply, focusing back on the catalogue.
"Oh, that's rich coming from you," he says.
"Excuse me?" My eyes focus back towards him.
"What kind of person doesn't have a cell phone?" He cries. "Who even are you?"
"I don't like that kind of stuff," I tell him casually.
"What? Survival?"
"How was I to know we were gonna get stuck up here?" I shoot. "It was your fault, remember?"
"You wanna go through this again? You really want to?"
"I'm hungry," I sigh.
"I know," he sighs back.
"Go back to listening to your music," I tell him.
"You wanna listen, too?" He asks, and it's not in a joking way.
I hesitate, then shrug. "Sure," I say.
He takes out his headphones and plays the music so it's heard out loud. It's some song I've never heard before, but I listen to it anyway as I continue reading the catalogue. I see the jacket I'm wearing advertised and laugh.
"What are you looking at?" Zayn asks me.
I hold up the catalogue so he can see the cover. I turn the page.
"Do you just ever not read?" He says.
I think about it. "Not really."
"You're so boring."
"Have you ever read in your life?" I ask him, eyebrow raised.
"No. Why would I?"
"Hmm. Exactly my point."
"What? What was your point?"
I just ignore him.
The song changes and a familiar beat starts playing, and I suddenly recognise the song. It's the one I listened to with Zayn in the library, the one he said was his favourite. The one I kind of liked; the one Liam didn't.
Zayn starts singing under his breath and I keep my eyes on the page in front of me, but I'm not actually looking at anything. I'm listening to him. His voice is really ... nice. Like something silvery and soft and floaty. The guy can sing, and I mean really sing. He hums the chorus and then stops singing, and I'm disappointed. "No, don't stop!" I cry, before my eyes widen and my cheeks go red.
He laughs, confused. "What?"
"N-Nothing," I stutter, my eyes furiously scanning the page in front of me.
"Were you listening to me sing?" He wonders.
"Well, I just overheard," I lie.
"Uh-huh."
"You're good," I blurt out, cursing myself once again. Why can't I just shut up?
"Thanks," he laughs lightly.
"Didn't know you sang." I've read the price for the red men's polo about twenty times.
"I don't."
I finally look up at him and find him looking right back. For a minute we just stare at each other, none of us seeming to break away. We're being held by something, and I have no idea what. He's the first to break the gaze and he starts the song again. I go back to my catalogue and the song is played on repeat all night.
------
"I've been working on the report," I tell Zayn after I've read the catalogue from front to back a hundred times. "For Chemistry."
He's too busy chucking a ball of rubber bands at the cupboard to reply.
"Just thought you should know because you're doing nothing to help me, and you are my partner," I say louder.
"Princess, you didn't want me to help you," he says.
"Well, whatever. I'm nearly finished it."
"Great," he says blankly.
"I wrote about Alfred's early life, and how that related to his invention," I continue. "Like, for example, when he was 20, his brother was killed by some explosion and so that made him interested in explosions."
"You wrote that?" He asks.
I give a fake laugh. "Yes. I did."
"Well, you're wrong," he tells me. He continues chucking the rubber band ball.
I look at him. "Excuse me?"
He gives a slow throw. "You're wrong," he repeats.
I scoff. "I am not. I've been researching Alfred for weeks. I can guarantee that I'd know way more than you."
He turns to me, one leg up, ball in hand. "You're still wrong."
I grow impatient. "I'm not! I ... how am I wrong?"
He gives a deep sigh. "At 23, Alfred worked in his father's factory in Russia making military equipment for the Crimean War. And when that war ended, in 1859, the company went bankrupt, and so the Nobel family moved back to Sweden and Alfred began experimenting with explosives, and he, like, dedicated his whole life to it. He was really interested in it all. And in 1864, when Alfred was actually 29, his father's Swedish factory exploded and killed five workers, including Alfred's younger brother, Emil. And so then Alfred went on to building more factories and focusing on safer explosions, improving the stability of them. He invented dynamite in 1867."
I just blink at him, my mouth agape. Did I just hear that correctly? That Professor-like speech coming from Zayn?
"So," he says, "you're wrong."
"How did you know all of that?" I cry, eyes wide. "How could you possibly ... I-what?"
He looks down at his hands and shrugs. "I saw it somewhere."
"Oh, you did not. That was a whole freaking life story you just memorised. You read it, didn't you?" I'm suddenly excited.
"I have photographic memory," he says.
I stare at him, trying to figure him out. I don't believe him. Where did he get all of that information? "Guess I am wrong," I finally say.
He starts throwing the ball again.
There's now a looming awkwardness surrounding us, and I can't find the right words to say. Not even insulting him feels right. So I just sit in complete silence.
"How long have you known Liam?" Zayn asks, completely out of the blue, minutes later.
I fiddle with my fingers, the topic making me nervous. Everything about Liam makes me shy and vulnerable and I feel so strange talking about him like he's mine. But, he is. "Since I was five," I say.
Zayn's quiet for a bit. "And you been friends ever since?"
I give a half smile. "Yeah. Well, up until now."
He looks over at me, eyes focused. "You're not friends now?"
Is he joking? "We're, uh, dating?"
"No shit," he says.
What the hell is he talking about?
He must catch my confused stare because he speaks again. "So you traded your friendship for a relationship?"
I'm a little caught. Looking at it that way, it doesn't look good. But of course Liam and I are still friends. He told me that he didn't connect with Brittany, but him and I connect. Right?
"We'll always be friends," I assure Zayn.
"But you'll never be both," he assures me.
"What are you saying?" I cry. "Are you saying that Liam and I have a shitty relationship?" I'm so fed up with him. Why does he do this? Everything's okay for a while but then he always has to ruin it.
"I don't think you want my opinion," he shrugs.
I sit up straight, looking him right in the eye to show him I'm not backing down. "No. Tell me. Tell me right now what your opinion on me and Liam is." For some strong reason, I care.
"The truth?" He slouches, and it annoys me. Here I am, determined, confident, sitting up straight and facing him, and there he is sitting side on, slouched against the cupboard with one leg up in the most relaxed position possible. He doesn't care. About anything. God, he drives me mad.
"The truth," I nod. "The ultimate, a hundred percent truth." I'm ready. I'm ready to face him.
He's silent for a bit; thinking. Then, he looks down at the floor and speaks. "I think it's bullshit," he says casually.
I grit my teeth, holding in a breath. "Oh yeah?" Who even says something like that? What kind of rude, arrogant, son of a bitch is he?
He turns now, and I realise he isn't finished. But I don't care. I don't want to listen anymore. Why should I? It's just his stupid opinion, like it matters. Like I even care. Like it's going to change anything.
"It's bullshit because it's not real," he continues, dragging my eyes back to him. "It's just a relationship, just this label that doesn't mean anything. And it's what you've waited for, for your whole life, but now that you have it, is it even worth it? You've known Liam since you were five, yeah? And you two were best friends. And even I know that that's something that can't be found easily. And now it's lost, yeah? It's lost because you loved him and you wanted to badly to just have him, but you did. You did have him. And now you've lost him, and, like, for what? For the label of you and him together? The label of 'he's my boyfriend'. God, it just annoys me. Because you see it all the time, people settling. Just settling. They settle for whatever they can get, because they're afraid of never getting anything better. They settle for the label of 'he's my boyfriend' because being someone's friend just isn't good enough. They settle for the boring asshole that they have nothing in common with because he's the only guy that's ever asked them out; the only guy that they think loves them. But no one, fucking no one, ever tries for something better." He shakes his head. "And so you and Liam, it's bullshit."
My eyes falter and all these thoughts rush through my head. I look back up at him and see him absentmindedly staring ahead, and I know he's thinking, too. We're both thinking about what he's said and it's important. I'm confused, but mostly I'm angry, because I know he's right. And that hurts me. He's right.
But instead of admitting it, I don't. "I do love Liam," I argue.
His eyes flutter towards mine. "Yeah? Why?"
Why? Why? What a ridiculous question. But I suddenly don't actually have an answer. "I just do. I've loved him ever since I first met him."
Zayn laughs. He laughs. He laughs like I'm some big joke, some stupid thing to make fun of. Like my feelings aren't important. "You love him because you think you should," he says simply.
"What?"
"You know what I meant, Princess."
I swallow, my teeth knocking together. There's this horrible feeling inside me that tells me Zayn's right, but I don't want to believe it. I don't want to believe it because it hurts to. I feel like I've been hit with a hammer, and it's broken everything inside of me, and it just really hurts. Everything's broken, and I can't speak. I can barely breathe. I'm swallowing back tears, my eyes stinging, my limbs sore. The way Zayn said it, so carelessly ... why? Why does he always have to ruin everything?
"I love him," I say as strongly as I can.
"Why?" He repeats.
I want him to stop. He needs to stop. He's doing this on purpose, he's trying to destroy me. "Stop it," I whisper.
"What's your favourite thing about him?"
"Why do you even care?" I splutter, voice cracking.
"Is it his eyes?" Zayn pushes. "The way they're just so damn beautiful? Or his hair? Or the way he walks to class like a total model?"
I look away.
"Because I know it's not the way you should love him," he says.
"And what do you know about love?" I hiss.
He hesitates, and I know he's about to say something, and I want him to say something, when we're interrupted. By someone else.
"Who's in here?" A loud voice bellows, averting Zayn and I's attention towards the lift.
"Over here!" I scream, so pleased to finally be rescued. So I can finally escape Zayn, because I really can't stand being with him anymore. There's loud footsteps, running, and then two large men in uniform hover above us, a badge on their left reading Security.
"Oh, thank-"
"You two are under arrest for breaking and entering," the man cuts me off.