"She's ok," I tell my mother over the phone- Zayn's phone- since I left mine at home like an idiot. "She's in some pain, but she just sprained it, so she'll be better soon."
My mom starts to nag at me, and I sit on a bench and listen to her complain about me not being good enough. I can't argue. I left Eve for a while. I stopped watching her and she got hurt. It's my fault.
What happened was that Eve and Safaa were in the rink, and those boys who almost knocked me down sped past her and made her fall. She put her hand out to stop herself, and when she hit the ground, she sprained her wrist. I am so thankful it was nothing worse.
Zayn had heard her small scream, but because we were fighting in the bathroom we got to her later than everyone else. By the time we were around her, we had to move through a small huddle of people to get to her. She was sniffling, and we could tell she had been crying at least some amount from her red, puffy eyes. She sprained it, so there was not much to do except make her stop skating and put ice on it. So we did. And she's better now, but she says it still hurts.
While this was happening, whatever Zayn and I were fighting about paled away in comparison. Because it was someone else we had to worry about, we worked together. We did not fight, and we actually did okay as a team.
Zayn would be sweet to her, and he made her laugh and held a conversation with her about whatever she wanted to talk about, while I just watched him and held the ice on her wrist. All I could do was watch Zayn. He was so good with my sister, and I attribute that to him being an older brother. He really kept Eve's mind occupied, and even the times when I would press too hard and she would flinch, he would notice and immediately take her mind away, so she would not pay attention to the pain anymore.
Altogether, my mood towards him has softened; after seeing him being caring and warm, I feel lighter inside, not tense like I was. I'm grateful for that, even if it is from a questionable reason.
I think he knows I'm not on the brink of crying every time I see him now, and he is using it to be nice and be closer to me. I don't mind as much as I did before, mostly because he has been laying off on the touchiness and irritation.
Zayn walks up to me, and I stand up off the bench. He motions for me to let him talk to my mom, which confuses me, but I'm actually quite happy he's getting me off the phone with her. "Zayn wants to talk to you," I rush to tell her between her lecture. She reluctantly stops and agrees.
I hand Zayn the phone, and he quickly brings it to his ear. He starts to mindlessly walk off, so I don't hear much of the conversation.
As he talks to my mom, I let myself reflect. Zayn has only ever seemed annoying to me, except now. I see him now, and I feel like I am used to him. Am I being stupid? Is it bad that I would not hate enjoying time with him now? He turns around and sees me staring at him, so he grins and nods at me. I roll my eyes and laugh to myself.
Suddenly, Harry slips into my mind. What would he think if he knew I was here with Zayn and appreciating his company? My first inclination is to shake the thought out of my head, but I know I cannot do that. I can't overlook Harry. As Zayn looks at me, and I put on a small smile, I decide to not disregard Harry- the one I say I love, the one who loves me.
"Thank you. Ok, bye," I hear him say, as he walks back towards me and puts his phone in his pocket. "The girls are going to get frozen yogurt. The moms are taking them."
"What about Eve, and what about us?"
"It took convincing, but your mom said Eve could go. I'm sure the moms can take care of her. And Safaa will be with her."
"And what about us?"
"We weren't invited." Dammit. I sit back on the bench, and Zayn stands to the side of me. "What do you want to do? We can do whatever. It's just us, now."
I can hear the smile in his voice. Honestly, I would not mind getting something to eat. I run my fingers through my hair and tuck some behind my ear. What if Harry knew I was with Zayn? What would I do then?
"Take me home," I say.
He shoves my shoulder a little bit. I know he is going to be persistent, but I can't be doing this with him. "You're not hungry, or anything?"
"I want to go home," I assert.
He pauses at my side. "Alright," he mutters. He immediately walks away with his hands in his pockets.
I can't help but feeling bad about what I said to him, and how I said it. Maybe I was a bit harsh? Maybe Harry would not mind if Zayn and I were to get food, at least maybe not as much as I think he would?
I'm lying to myself and I know it.
I stand up and walk to Zayn who is with Safaa and Eve and a couple of the moms. After we talk to the two women about how the girls are going to get home, I say goodbye to Eve, and Zayn to Safaa, and the two of us walk back to Zayn's car. I force myself into the car, but all I can think about is how badly I would rather not have to go through this.
He gets into the driver's seat next to me. I can remember distinctly all the times I have been in this position with him. First when he took me to the beach. Then to the zoo. Then to see the stars. And now, all these years later, ice skating. Romantic, huh?
It's just starting to get darker outside. The rain from earlier today is gone, but clouds still cover the sky. Zayn starts the car and leaves the parking lot, beginning the drive to my mother's house.
For a minute, it's quiet. Zayn is not playing music, and he isn't talking, so I consider this the best possible scenario we could have together. But guilt is chewing at me because I know that he is only silent because I rejected him. I am not sure if I want to ruin it though, so I am torn as to what to do.
"You hate me, don't you?" Zayn asks, staring out the windshield with a furrowed brow and a soft frown.
"What?" I have to make sure I heard that right.
"After all the shit I've done to you, you hate me. Am I right?"
Yes.
"Zayn." I do not know how to respond. If he did not sound so serious, I would have spoken the first word that came to mind, and I would have dramatized it. But he sounds hurt, and guilty, and I've never wanted to hate anyone, let alone actually tell them that I hate them. Plus, I'm foggy on how much hate I do have for him right now, so telling him I do might not be exactly true.
"I'd see why," he says. Silence overcomes the car as we both are thinking. I don't know at all. I don't know if I hate him. But even If I do, am I supposed to flat out tell him I do? Why would I do that? "You've said before that you hate me," he tells me in the same melancholy tone.
I have, haven't I? Well, yeah. But he was cornering me, kissing my neck and telling me I did not love Harry. I consider myself justified.
"I didn't believe you then. I'd believe you now."
Morally, I do not think I could tell him that. "You want me to tell you that I hate you?" I ask. "No. I'm not going to say that."
He shrugs. "Well if that's how you feel then just tell me." I stay silent, refusing to play with him. "Fine. I knew it anyways."
I am fed up. He's acting like a child. I roll my eyes and begin to speak louder. "You want to know what I feel about you?" He nods, which just pisses me off more. "I hate that you are so touchy." He smiles to himself, bringing me to another thing I hate about him.
"I hate that you smirk at everything I say and everything I do even when I'm trying to get you to hate me," I continue. He starts to grin, and it frustrates me more. "I hate that you're so stubborn. I hate more than anything that you get in the way of me and Harry. I don't hate you, but so many things that you do hurt me, so I can't say I am loving you either. "
He still chuckles, but it soon fades, and he looks down. "I hate that you're right," he says in a faint voice. I almost don't hear him at first.
"I hate that you're smart- you're really smart," he continues. A smile etches itself onto my face. He breathes a laugh. "I hate that you always look amazing all of the time."
My cheeks slowly begin to burn. I shift in my chair. What is he doing to me? Why is he saying things like that? I don't want to take it personally, but how can I not?
I look at Zayn, who is already staring at me. He half smiles when I look at him, but I can't respond positively. It bothers me to hear sweet things come from his mouth. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I hate when you compliment me. I hate it a lot," I say softly. I look over to Zayn again, but he looks uncomfortable. About as uncomfortable as I am. I bite my lip. "But I really hate when you call me Jess."
His eyes shoot up to me, and he sort of smiles. I know he lives to bother me by calling me that. "Why?"
"Because it's not for you."
His smile falls off of his face. "I hate that you're not for me," he whispers.
What?
I stare up at him, but he only looks at the road. His jaw clenches, and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in clear frustration. "I hate that you make me think like that."
This is the first time Zayn has ever made clear a real feeling towards me. It makes my heart hurt to hear it. I again realize how much I regret kissing Zayn the first time. It brought up too many problems that take too long to fix. "I hate that you kissed me the first time," I tell him.
He nods. "I hate that you kissed me back."
"Why?"
"It gave me false hope. I hate that you give me hope."
That I give him hope.
I give Zayn hope. I make myself remember to ask him to elaborate on that sometime other than now. I smile a smile more of disbelief and return to our conversation. "I really hate when you're nice to me." He frowns again. If I ever say this is not the most unbearable conversation I have been part of, I'm lying. This is the hardest thing I've ever talked about with anyone.
I force myself to change the tone. But the subject is easy- things I hate about Zayn- so I stick with it. "I hate that you're easy to talk to," I start out with. I remember high school and how much I revealed to him about myself. Things I had told almost no one, I told him.
He lifts his head up and half smiles. "I hate that you have your own opinion."
"I hate that you're so creative." The walls in his flat that had art on them easily told me that. I remember even his family's house as being gorgeous.
By now we both know the things we "hate" about each other are just things we are jealous of, or things that we really love about each other. "I hate your sense of humor," he says.
"I hate how you know how to deal with people, especially crying eleven-year-old girls."
He smiles. "I hate that you know how to hold ice on a crying girl's wrist." We both chuckle at that. Even I know I could hardly help hold the ice on Eve's wrist. "I hate so much about you, you don't even know half of it," he says with a grin.
"Well thanks." I laugh at the ironic sound of that, which makes him laugh, another thing that I hate about him- his amazing laugh and gorgeous smile. After a minute, the laughing dies down. I start to remember that this fun is short-lived. We cannot do this anymore, for the benefit of Harry and I. The same sober mood returns into the car. "I hate that you can't be my friend," I say softly.
"I hate that you want to be just my friend," he counters.
"I hate that you won't let me be just your friend."
He sighs, and I give up. I rest my head on the window and start to wonder what would have happened if we never got involved with each other in the beginning. I could have still ended up with Harry, even if Zayn and I never met. But Harry and I would be happier.
Guilt runs through me for thinking I'd be happier without Zayn. The funny thing is, I should not feel guilty for it. Zayn coming back into my life hurt me so much, so why should I feel bad for thinking I'd be better without him?
Because I want him in my life.
"I'm sorry for being so horrible. For hurting you like I do," Zayn says.
My eyes flicker over to the soft sound. His words come out of his mouth smoothly, like something real. It does not sound forced, or prepared. It is very sincere.
"Why do you do it?" I ask. "I want to know. If you're so sorry about it now then why weren't you before? How come you had this epiphany that it hurts me now?"
"I didn't just come up with this. Since you left my house with Niall, I've been thinking about it. I even tried to stop being around you, remember? I never texted you, or called you, or even saw you since then until today."
"But what about today? You decided you'd stop hurting me except for today? What type of plan is that? How am I supposed to know if you're ever telling the truth?" (For a second, I can sympathize with Harry about trust issues.)
"It was a joke today, I was joking." I glare at him, and he notices. He begins to work on a better explanation. "I was just trying to tease you, because you're kind of fun to tease, and I didn't think I'd be around you much more after today," he says. "It wasn't funny, I know."
I take a deep breath. "Zayn, listen. I don't hate you. At all. I really want to like you." I say it quieter than I normally would. It sounds like I am telling him a secret that I don't want anyone to hear- anyone including myself. "But you can't push me that way anymore. Don't you see that? If you expect me to not hate you, you can't make my life hell."
"I'm sorry." He says. "I won't. I won't get involved with you and Harry again." I laugh. "I mean it. I won't bother you, I won't try to persuade you away from him. If we just are friends, I can do that. I'm okay with that."
I watch him as he says all of that, and I am trying to see any hint that he is lying to me. I cannot find anything, which makes me nervous. I really want to believe him, but I am so scared to. I have to make a decision.
So I make one. "Okay," I say lowly. "But you have to understand that this is real. If you do or try anything, I'm done with you, Zayn."
He agrees quietly. After that, we do not talk. Zayn turns the radio on. I go over that moment again and again in my head. It gives me a headache. Should I have done that? Can I really trust him now?
I don't know. I don't know at all.
The biggest problem, though, is what Harry is going to think of this all.
**********
That night, I skype Harry. We both are laying in our beds, both visiting our families for the holidays. Harry on my screen isn't wearing a shirt, and I kind of appreciate that a lot. His hair is seriously messed up, really curly and all over the place. I love it. But the reason for me skyping him is because I have to tell him about Zayn.
I tell him how Zayn showed up at my house and how he was acting before Eve got hurt. So far, he hates Zayn. He is pissed right now at him, but I do not think he is actually mad at me. Altogether, I feel like he pities me more than is angry with me. But I know that is not going to last long. I have not gotten to the part where I agreed to let Zayn back into my life, and that will set Harry off for sure, especially after what I've told him so far. But lying is no longer an option for me, so I am going to have to deal with it.
I'm almost bouncing I'm so full of anxiety. "Harry, can I tell you something?"
"Please." I think he loves the idea of me being open with him, so he welcomes it. But I am still so iffy on how I am going to tell him this, and even if this is a good idea. I reason that it cannot be worse than not telling him.
Before I can talk, someone walks into Harry's room.
Harry looks up at the person and glares at her. "Gemma, go away."
The bed falls and rises as I see her scoot up next to him. "Why? Are you two doing something nasty? Hi Jessie!"
"Hi Gemma." I like Harry's sister- she's nice and fun, but this is the worst timing she could have.
Harry runs his hands through his hair and pulls it all back. "Gemma, get out of my room."
"What are you guys talking about?"
"You," I say with a smile. She scrunches up her nose.
Harry smiles to her. "Yeah, she was just telling me how much she hated your new haircut."
My eyes widen. "No I did not!"
Gemma slaps her brother's shoulder while clicking her tongue. "I believe you," she says to me. "My brother is sort of a prick. I understand."
"A prick?" Harry asks her quietly.
"Yeah," she responds in the same tone.
"Gemma my girlfriend is right here." It is funny to watch them; they act like they are in their own world because they aren't addressing me. It is really the cutest thing to watch.
"So you want me to lie to her?"
Harry gives her the oddest look, and I laugh at the two of them.
My laughing catches both of their attention, and Gemma looks up to me. "I was just kidding, Jessie," she says with obvious sarcasm. "Harry's a great guy, and he was the best brother I could've asked for." She grabs his head and hugs him close to her.
"Get out of here," Harry groans.
"Fine," Gemma says. She lets go of Harry's head, waves goodbye to me and leaves.
He waits until his sister closes the door and then puts his attention on me. "What did you want to say?"
Gemma's interruption gave me time to convince myself I'm way too scared to tell Harry. "Oh, nothing."
I know my sudden dismissal is not going to work. Harry has seen straight through all of my lies so far, so this one is not going to be an exception.
He cocks his head. "It sounded like something," he says in that tone that always sounds a bit condescending to me.
"I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me? We've been through everything, you can tell me anything."
I know that means that I can tell him anything, as long as it is something he wants to hear. "I'm terrified," I tell him honestly.
"I won't get mad." I groan in response and shake my head. I really cannot believe I am about to tell him this.
I close my eyes, breathe in and then exhale my next sentence as quickly as I can. "Harry, would it be bad if we became friends with Zayn again?"
I open my eyes, and Harry is speechless.
Shit. I can already hear the things he wants to say but won't, number one probably being 'are you fucking kidding me'.
"Friends?" He chokes out.
"Listen what he told me. He said he wouldn't get involved with us again. And you know I don't have feelings for him."
"Well he has them for you! Jess, I really don't want you to be around him."
"He's not like he was anymore."
"It's been two weeks," he states. The ironic thing is that he doesn't even know what Zayn did when I was at his house two weeks ago, so he has no clue how bad Zayn really was.
"And he realized what he did was wrong."
He stares at me in major disbelief. "Jess, I can't tell you who to be friends with, but for me, don't be friends with Zayn."
"Harry."
"Goodnight Jessie." He ends the video call.
'Don't be friends with Zayn' is all I hear that night until I fall asleep. It pisses me off that Harry tried to tell me what to do like that. Even though he stated he does not control me, I know he is expecting me to listen to him anyways.
I have the right to make my own decisions, so if I want to be Zayn's friend, I will.
And I want to be his friend.
So I will.