Copyright © zylgnagnaba 2013
“Hmm,” Sophia hums once we squeeze each other in a hug. I arrived at the airport just in time that she has come out at the exit, thank goodness. “I’m so stoked for the show. Can’t wait.” She muses and squeezes both my shoulders after we pull away from each other.
My chest heaves up and down once I release a nervous sigh and I know Sophia notices it before she gives me a concerned smile. Well, I’m really excited and nervous at the same time. It’s always been like this every time we have a runway show. My head would spin around and think about the worst possible things that could happen. I would be scared that I might trip on the catwalk and that people would laugh at me. Walt has always been the one to admonish me whenever I think about negative stuffs.
I’ve been doing this for two years now and I’m still not used to it. Nothing major has happened though and I’d realize that being pessimistic wouldn’t help, but still my fear would always come back whenever a show like this is coming.
I’d look like I’m enjoying myself in the catwalk, but the truth is I’ve been mentally reciting a mantra over and over while walking, don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip!
One thing that’s important in my job is to master ‘grace under pressure’. That’s the key.
“I’m nervous, actually.” I admit and we both chuckle. I hook my arm on Sophia’s and we both start walking out of the crowded airport. Thankfully, no one recognizes two-fifth of One Direction’s girlfriends, or if anyone does, then maybe they’re considerate enough to not bother us.
Two months ago, I promised that I wouldn’t be as close to Sophia as I am with Perrie and Eleanor, and look who I am with right now. It’s really amazing how things work out for everyone, at the same time I am thankful that I have added another big sister in my list.
I clasp my coat tighter up to my chin once we walk out of the building. It’s not raining in the city, but I don’t doubt it will later due to the dark and heavy clouds huddling together in the firmament. A small smile tugs at my lips when I realize that it’s almost summer in Australia, quite the opposite here in Europe. I can only imagine the boys enjoying the sun—that we’re deprived of in London even if it’s summer—right now.
Sophia and I are about to walk straight ahead to our cab when group of undesirable individuals—paparazzi—crowd around and block our course, flashing their cameras at us and yelling incoherent words at the same time. We cast our heads down to our path to avoid the flashing lights, shoving them as we fight to make our way to our cab.
Two airport police come to our rescue, shielding us from the mob as we continue walking. My head is spinning around at the same time that my throbbing heart pounds against my ribcage when I make out some of the questions being thrown at us—at me particularly.
Valerie, who’s the new guy?
Are you cheating on Harry?
Why are you cheating on Harry?
Did you two break up?
Where are these questions coming from? I’m so confused. How on earth did these people make-up some sort of make-belief. I would never cheat on Harry. I’d be the most stupid girl in the world if I ever do that. Harry is the most amazing guy in the world and I’d be damned if I do something that would trigger us to be apart. I love Harry Styles—so much that cheating on him would be last thing I could think of. I can’t even think of somebody else better than him that I can cheat with. These people are more stupid than I thought.
Sophia and I take a deep breath of relief once we are finally inside the cab. After thanking the two airport police for assisting us, one of them slam the door shut and they wait until our cab take off and leave the airport.
“What was that about?” Sophia’s brows furrow once she questioned me and I toss myself at the back of the seat, sighing tediously while rubbing my temple. I could have a headache after what happened.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head a bit, shrugging my shoulder in utter uncertainty. I don’t have a clue as to what those paparazzi were talking about. But then again, paparazzi are so stupid. They would make-up stories just to make it to the headlines. So I just push the repetitive questions reeling in my head aside and decide to myself I won’t be bugged by them anytime soon.
*****
The same crazy situation is happening backstage of the show. While everyone is running around with high-heels on, wearing the designer clothes that we’re modelling later, I am here sitting on a high chair, taking deep breaths to relax my tense muscles.
I am already set, just waiting for the fashion director’s cue when the show starts. My make-up is semi-dark, complimenting my hazel brown eyes and I’m clad with a black bodycon dress with hints of silver near my chest. My hair is tied up in a neat chignon—it’s a decorative term for a bun, by the way—but there are some loose strands swaying to my fringe. The blonde roots of my hair are now concealed when I dyed my hair before flying all the way here.
I haven’t still come into terms with my blonde persona. I’d still want to hide it as much and as long as possible. Aside from my family, it’s the stereotype that I’m also running away from. Let’s face it, people can always prejudge other people based on their appearance. Not because I am blonde, doesn’t mean I’m stupid and bitchy—well I am stupid and I can be a bitch too but can’t other colours be like that too?
The world would be of a less trouble if people weren’t judgmental—I am speaking to myself too. I can be judgmental to myself and to other people sometimes, but I’m working on it. I’m starting over.
With the fashion director’s whistle, I hop off of my chair and all the models now line up in a long queue, getting ready for the show. I have yet to understand why the collection is called Mirabella Blues but most of us are dressed in combinations of black and white or silver. I would never understand some designers though.
By the time that it’s my turn to get out to the cat walk, I take another deep breath and try to discard the negative thoughts that have been bothering me before the show has even started. With an endearing smile, I strut all the way to the runway and look straight ahead, ignoring the fact that there are so many people watching me—the dress I’m wearing— carefully.
I scan the audience unnoticeably to look for Sophia with Walt, but I failed. Rather, I notice some of the spectators look at me with dismay while whispering to one another. Some of them are grimacing and glowering at me—or maybe there’s something wrong with the dress. I push the thoughts aside and continue walking to the end of the catwalk, turn on my heels with my hand propped on my waist before letting go, and return to the backstage with a relieved sigh. We still have another set of wardrobe to show off to the audience so I quickly run to my stylist to get changed. My heels are already killing me, but it’s nothing I can handle.
“Congrats, Val! You did uhm-mazing!” Walt gushes, squeezing my hands while he gives me a proud grin. He came to the backstage with Sophia once the show has ended and I couldn’t be more relieved that it finally did.
Sophia then reaches out for a hug as well and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, Val. I really enjoyed the show.” Her shoulders shrug enthusiastically once she pulls back, flashing a genuine smile at me.
“Thank you for coming, Sophia. I really appreciate it. You could’ve been in Australia with-“I try to finish my sentence but she cuts me off and squeezes my hand tenderly.
“Hey, it’s nothing. You needed me here.” The softness in her voice gives me the assurance that she really means every word that has slipped her lips. I don’t even regret making up with her. Once again, I feel bad for being rude to her since day one. I should’ve been more sensible with my behaviours.
“Thank you again.” I whisper to her and reach out for another hug. For a brief moment, I block the noise out from the background from other people around the backstage. I am just relieved that the show is finally over and we can finally enjoy the rest of the days we’re going to spend here in Milan.
After getting changed to my clothes I wore before coming to the show—black tight jeans, grey shirt underneath a black blazer, paired with my favourite brown ankle boots—, the three of us saunter out of the theatre to grab late dinner, Walt’s treat.
We are all taken off-guard when another cluster of paparazzi crowd around the exit of the theatre, waiting for answers to their speculations. I wonder if they were the same paparazzi who bugged Sophia and me earlier in the airport. Same questions were thrown at me— the identity of my new boyfriend, the reason why I cheated on Harry, the truth about the status of our relationship—which answers is all non-existent.
Again, I am still clueless as to how these annoying individuals got the idea of me cheating on Harry. I would never do such a thing. Fucktards!
Before I could even lash out on these fucking idiots, Walt grabs my hand and Sophia hooks her arm around mine. Walt then guides us on our way to our rental car, our heads cast down to watch our steps, and to avoid the camera flashes though we’re already wearing shades.
Valerie, does Harry know about this?!
How could you cheat on Harry?!
Why did you two break up?!
Another push and I’m going to lose it. But before that happens, Walt has already pushed me to the backseat of the black rental car. Sophia sits next to me, grabs my hand to her lap and rubs it tenderly in an attempt to comfort and relax my nerves. Walt then starts the engine and we finally flee the scornful area.
“I don’t think dinner out would be a nice idea right now. Those paparazzi are all around. I suggest we just order room service at the hotel. Is that okay, Val?” Sophia tilts her head to look at my sullen features to which I nod as a response. I am mentally thanking her for being so thoughtful.
“Okay, then. That’s a bright idea, Sophia.” Walt agrees without turning around to the backseat, he keeps his eyes fixed to the road ahead instead while driving.
I spent the rest of the drive being slumped in my seat, looking up at the ceiling of the car and shaking my head. All the vigour I had after the show is now all drained because of the obnoxious questions of those idiots who don’t know what to do better than meddling in other people’s lives.
Sophia and I are already inside the suite that we are sharing when we both hear knocks on the door. Sophia takes the initiative to open the door instead of me. I, on the other hand, toss myself and sprawl down on the bed. Releasing a very tedious sigh, I cover my eyes with the back of my arm, forcing myself to sleep.
“Valerie, darling. Why don’t you take a look at this?” I hear Walt’s voice travel across the room before I hear a quick shut of the door. I lazily shake my head at him, fighting not to remove my heavy arm from my eyes. My eyes squint to the brightness of the room after he removes my arm from my eyes and I groan rather annoyingly.
“What is it?” I ask in a whiney tone.
“Sit up, darling.” He requests and my mind reels for a brief moment to the times when Harry would pull me up off the bed whenever I am being a lazy witch from getting up. Walt misunderstood the smile that’s plastered on my face because of the memory and he yells at me, “Why the hell are you smiling? Valerie, sit up!”
“Okay, okay.” I groan while rolling over before pushing myself to sit steadily on the edge of the bed. Sophia sits next to me and I notice Walt sitting on a little couch in front of me with his MacBook on his lap. I scrunch my brows as curiosity creeps up my head at the instance. Is he going to bug me again for another prospective project?
“Look.” Walt says while turning his MacBook around for me to see the screen.
My eyes widen with the bold letters scribbled on the website that Walt is showing me, along with the spiteful picture plastered on it. My fingers rolls up tightly to a fist that I can only assume my knuckles are already white, my nails piercing through the skin of my palm. My chest heaves up and down as I take sharp breaths, I can feel them through my nostrils. My blood is boiling, the heat travelling to my limbs, my ears and my flushed cheeks. I am beyond fuming.
“What the fuck?! That isn’t true! That’s bullshit!” and that’s how I exploded after reading that damned article title.
‘VALERIE SCOTT SPOTTED CHEATING ON HARRY STYLES WITH A MYSTERIOUS GUY’
*****
What the fuck?! That couldn’t be closer to the truth. Me? Cheating on Harry? With that Devon guy? Who the hell are they kidding?! That’s so full of shit!
Frazzled, drained, weary, and frustrated, I am pacing around the dim room with my phone in my hand. I don’t even know what to do. I’m so confused. How can I get rid of that article before Harry takes a read of it? What if he already seen it? Now it hits me. That was why Devon kept on looking out the glass wall of the coffee shop while I was pretending to take a phone call from Walt. He probably tipped someone to snap photos of us. But what if he doesn’t know anything about this and he just noticed someone was taking our photos?
With a quiet grunt, I grumpily slump on the carpeted floor and hug my knees against my chest. I repetitively hit my head against my knees in an attempt to leak out some ideas from the continuous action. I sigh when I realize how painful the action is already being so I stop and lean my head against the edge of the bed instead. The backlight of the phone reflects to my face once I raise it up and start scrolling down to my contacts. I am apprehensive of what I am about to do, but I might as well do it now before I regret not doing it.
We have already spent the whole month of September fighting over my being secretive, stupidity and clumsiness, and I won’t let this small bump—if you consider a cheating rumour a small bump, then maybe it is really that small—ruin us in the end.
So I put my phone against my ear and I wait until a raspy voice sounds off from the other line. I sigh cynically once the phone rings for three times already and there’s still no answer. What if he already seen the artic-
“Hello?” Harry finally answers, cutting off my train of thoughts and I let go of the breath I was holding while I was waiting for his answer.
I swallow the lump in my throat that was bothering me for almost an hour now before finding the courage to speak up. “Hello, baby? Is this a bad time?”
“No, baby. I just woke up from a nap. Is there something wrong?” I know he’s telling the truth because his raspy voice is still laced with sleepiness.
I gulp again before answering, “Uhm… have you seen the… the news recently?” I stutter, hesitating but I ask anyway.
“No, why? What’s happening?” I can feel him shift his movement from wherever he is lying down due to the change in his voice. He seems more awake now.
“Baby, you know I won’t cheat on you, right? I would never do that to you.” I tell him and I pick on my nails to prevent myself from breaking down. But I can already feel the fresh tears starting to form in my eyes.
“Of course,” He answers quickly and I close my eyes painfully instead of being relieved by his response. It hurts me to know that he trusts me at the same time knowing that a certain article could ruin it. “Baby, please tell me what’s wrong.” He begs, worry is now evident in his tone.
There is silence for about ten seconds before I can finally man up and tell him what happened. “Devon… he… I went to grab a coffee with him. He’s in Milan too.” I begin to say and I hear him gasp or maybe he is about to speak but I beat him to it. “I just thought he’d stop bugging me if I agreed just for one coffee treat, so I did. And then, I didn’t know there were going to be photos taken. I swear, baby, I-“
“Hey, hey, baby.” He stops me from rambling on. “I believe you.” He says simply and I open my mouth to speak but it’s now his turn to beat me to it. “I love you. I believe you. It’s enough that you admit it to me. You don’t have to explain further.”
“Hello? Am I really talking to my boyfriend? Is this really Harry Styles?”
“Ha-ha funny.” He says sarcastically. “I’m serious, baby. I’m glad that you finally learned your lessons about keeping something from me. Although you didn’t tell me that you’ve seen that jerk there in Milan beforehand, I’m still glad that I haven’t heard this from other people, or worse in a fucking article.” I can sense the annoyance in his statement but I am content that he’s keeping his cool as much as possible.
“Sorry, baby.” I clip before chewing on my lip and rub my face with my free hand.
“It’s okay.” I hear him sigh. “So how was your show? I bet you did great.” He ventures and the heaviness in his voice is now replaced with enthusiasm once he decided to change the subject.
“Oh, the collection is called Mirabella Blues but I’m still curious why we’re modelling black dresses.” I begin to confide him my thoughts and he laughs at my silliness.
“Baby…” He coos, “Maybe the designer was sad when he was designing the collection, hence called ‘Blues’ because he or she was sad or mourning at the time.”
“Why call it blues instead of black then?”
He laughs, “I miss you so much, baby.”
I frown when he doesn’t answer my obviously stupid question, but then I smile and respond a sweet, “I miss you too.”
*******
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah!
Five chapters more and my stomach is already grumbling. Hahaha
I hope you liked this chapter so far. And oh by the way, I really need your interview questions. I need at least ten, so if it’s not much of a bother, just post your questions on ‘POST INTERVIEW QUESTION HERE’ page. Please? Hahah
That’s all! Thanks for the votes and comments.
Finally, my Wi-Fi is cooperating. LOLOLOL
Love,
Glyz <3
PS: I am smiling at your theories on HMB (Half a Man at Best). Am I that predictable? It’s still going to be a secret until I start with that book, but keep on guessing what happened between Halerie. Who knows, you might hit the correct answer. LOL