Turn Right: Chapter Fourteen
“I don’t know what more I can do.” Niall told Soph miserably. “She thinks it’s all about if people find out, but Soph, I promise, that’s not it! I want to be there for her, for Alanna! I didn’t – I came back for her and I’ve got both of them and – it’s not a bad thing, I-”
“Shh, it’s okay, I get it.” Soph told Niall, rubbing his back. They were outside the hotel, overlooking the water again, on a nearby bench. Niall seemed to have noticed that Isolde hadn’t been the most forthcoming person in regards to Soph’s visit and it hurt him. He’d thought that, maybe, if Isolde and Soph spoke to each other, Isolde would relax a little. After all, Soph was happy, wasn’t she? “Look... She’s pregnant, her hormones are all over the place. Her head must be a mess right now. How far gone is she, anyway?”
“Seven months, Alanna’s small for her age.” Niall replied, a small smile flitting across his face. “Soph, I just want to do what’s best for them, both of them. Is she right? Would it be better if I just walked away?”
Soph thought for a moment.
“No.” She said finally. “No, I don’t think so. Isolde’s scared and unsure of everything right now and I can understand why she’s pushing you away; it’s not right, but I can understand it, I’d do the same thing. You’ve just got to keep proving to her you’re not going anywhere.” Soph paused for a moment, realizing she should take her own advice. After all, Zayn had gone against all of the odds to marry her, hadn’t he? He wasn’t going anywhere.
Niall nodded. Somehow, though, it seemed more complicated than that.
Rose hated her flatmates. She hated herself. Why had she once told Eddie where the spare key was?!
She’d been avoiding him all day. What was there to say? She’d leant up to kiss him. Regardless of whether their lips had touched or not (which they hadn’t), he’d noticed what she’d tried to do. She felt so embarrassed and Eddie clearly wasn’t getting the hint that she didn’t want to talk.
In fact, Rose wanted to lie in bed for hours and cry. Which is what she’d gone home and begun to do; except the tears hadn’t come yet.
“If you don’t let me in, I’ll just open the door!”
Rose quickly pulled her head over the duvet.
“For all you know, I could be naked, you creep!” Rose yelled, hugging the bed-sheets around her. Nobody needed to see her Tim-Tam pyjamas.
“If I see something I haven’t seen before, I’ll throw a two-pence coin at it.” Eddie snapped. “I’m coming in.”
“No!” Rose screeched, launching herself at the door – only a second too late, because instead of finding herself falling against the door, she found herself falling against Eddie instead.
There was an exceedingly awkward moment when Rose, with Eddie’s arms automatically wrapped around her to keep her steady, didn’t want to move.
“Get off of me.” Rose muttered, shoving him away and grabbing her dressing gown. Eddie raised his eyebrows at her pyjamas, but said nothing. “And stop staring! Couldn’t it have waited until tomorrow?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, but I had to content myself to arguing with your door, instead.” Eddie murmured, rolling his eyes. “Rose, I’ve got a job.”
“I know you’ve got a job, you’re an asshole model.” Rose muttered. She needed Eddie out of her bedroom. Now.
“No, Rose... An agent has been in contact.” Eddie’s eyes were shining with something Rose couldn’t recognize. “Rose, somebody wants me for a film.”
And just like that, life happened.
“Oh my God, Zayn, where’s Soph?!”
“Your minions have arrived.” Rose said dryly, sitting beside her best friend. Soph was sitting a small way behind the autograph table, The Picture of Dorian Gray in front of her and her iPod on full blast. Soph blinked up at her, yanking on the cord. “Your minions.” Rose repeated, nodding to the table, where a load of giggling Floridians were standing in front of Zayn.
“Oh.” Soph frowned for a moment. “Urgh, does that mean I have to move?”
“Haha, probably.” Rose laughed, offering Soph a Skittle. “Are you sore again? Where do you two find the time?”
Soph grunted, helping herself to the packet.
“Well, ever since the tour got moved forward, he’s pretty adamant to cut through the tension.” Soph told her, through a mouthful, offering the red packet back. Rose raised her eyebrows. “Honestly, I’m just worried it’s messing with my future hip alignment or something.”
Rose watched Soph, unsure of whether to voice her thoughts or not. Honestly, Rose had only chosen to stay at her job, so she could be with Soph. It felt good, to have her so nearby all the time – it meant they didn’t have to go back to relying on emails and texts. They had each other.
Although, it was times like these when Rose wondered whether a text would have been easier.
“Is he treating you alright?” Rose finally blurted out, offering Soph some more Skittles, before she could say anything to match her surprised expression. “I mean... Isn’t he tiring you out a little? I mean, come on, you guys have barely-”
“No, no, it’s fine, we’re fine!” Soph told her – though Rose couldn’t help but notice how unconvincing Soph sounded. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s just... I don’t know, different. Touring is different.”
Rose glanced up at where the girls were still giggling with Zayn, asking about his new married life, before hurrying along. Zayn glanced over his shoulder, to look at Soph, with a smirk – but instead of returning it, Soph had gone back to scrolling through her iPod. Zayn returned to his fans, unfazed.
“Soph, has your period come yet?” Rose asked quietly.
“I’m just a few days late, I told you, it’s nothing to worry about.” Soph mumbled, helping herself to more Skittles. “What about Eddie? Have you spoken to him?”
“No, I’ve been successfully avoiding him for two weeks now.” Rose told her. Soph was quiet for a moment – but Rose couldn’t help it. She was Soph’s best friend. It was her job to push the boundaries Soph so scarily set out. “And are you sure? Last time-”
“Last time was just a scare, and Zayn may find out this time, which I don’t want, so it’s fine, okay?” Soph said sharply, before sighing loudly and looking up at Rose’s face. “I’m sorry, I just... I don’t know, I just feel weird, somehow. And you should really talk to him.”
Rose sighed, not wanting to talk about Eddie. The last thing she remembered, was him standing in her bedroom a few hours after she’d utterly humiliated herself, telling her somebody had been so impressed with his shoots and his work in the Burberry trailers, that they were thinking of casting him for a new independent docu-film on the lives of members of the rich elite across the globe. He’d be filming first in New Zealand for a few months, and then America.
Rose didn’t know what bothered her more. The fact he was going to be on soil she was meant to hold an inbred hate for (as an Australian, because New Zealanders sucked), or the fact she felt as if he was ending something between them that had never even started.
That, until seconds before he’d told her, she’d been berating herself for wanting to start.
In a way, it had been good timing. Eddie leaving coincided for when Rose had to leave with the rest of the leftover 1D team for their international comeback tour – and although the prospect of spending months on the road with Harry was a daunting one, it made Rose feel lighter somehow that for once, she wouldn’t be having to worry about anybody’s emotions but her own. And it had worked.
Harry and Rose had barely said two words to one another throughout the entirety of the trip so far. They didn’t talk – especially about Soph – and didn’t even acknowledge each other if they walked by one another in the corridor. Rose had silently created a system with the other make-up artists, so that she very rarely found herself doing Harry’s make-up and when she did, she listened to her iPod and Harry would be joking with the boys, acting as if she wasn’t there. Surprisingly, Rose found that okay to deal with.
It stung, of course. It stung like mad. Hadn’t anything changed? Soph had seemed appalled at Harry’s behaviour and Rose had even noticed some friction between them for the first few days of the tour, friction she had worked quickly to dissipate. In a strange way, Rose had been grateful when Harry had barely glanced her way when she’d made her way to the bus, that first day, with the others, something she’d explained to Soph.
Maybe – just maybe, Rose thought – getting over Harry while he was in front of her was a good thing. Because if she felt like it was the hardest thing she could do, it would be the hardest thing she’d overcome.
And so far, it was working.
Rose had learnt more about herself in the past few months than she had in the past twenty-four years or her life. She’d made certain decisions on her own, the sort of decisions she’d been relying on Liam, or Ryan, or Harry, or Eddie to make for her up until now.
For example – she’d called her sister, Sarah, and told her she would be attending her wedding, in a couple of months’ time. Her parents had been overjoyed and Ryan had even called Rose directly, confused and almost angered that she was so calm. And it had felt so motherfucking good to tell him, perfectly at ease, that despite their history... If he’d genuinely found love with her sister, why shouldn’t she be happy for them? She loved Sarah and she loved Ryan, even if she didn’t in that same way anymore.
Ryan had been speechless and had mumbled an excuse to hang up a few seconds later, after hearing Rose say that – and that was when Rose had felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. Why? Because she was taking the power back. She was taking control of her life. And taking Ryan’s power away, so head-on, felt amazing; because he’d had power over her that he hadn’t even realized. Before, when they’d been living together... That’s when it had started, from the moment Rose had decided he had enough decency in him, for her to pretend he was the perfect man and silently adore him.
That had been the first step.
Next, had been to stop relying on Eddie so much. Of course, after the Ryan debacle, Rose had been itching to tell him – but she realized, that if she could take the power away from Ryan, she could take it away from every other man in her life, as well.
Rose realized, as she’d sat and finally thought – to answer questions she was asking herself, not questions people were telling her she should be asking – that... Well, when had she suddenly started compensating Soph’s friendship with everybody else’s? Soph had no qualms in telling Rose all about her life, but Rose had always felt that telling people about her feelings in-depth would be a waste of their time. For the first time, Rose realized... Well, what if Soph had been right for the past gazillion years? That being best friends was a reason itself to spill her guts?
It was actually thanks to Soph that Rose had been strong enough to not talk to Eddie – to avoid his numerous texts, and calls, and emails and other forms of messages. Something she planned on telling her friend, actually, sometime soon.
Because Rose, know that she was forcing herself out of her self-proclaimed “dumbass boy funk”, could see something was up with Soph, too.
Rose had believed Soph when she’d told her that she wasn’t too upset about the honeymoon being cancelled. After all, all of the sex with Zayn had to be overwhelming. And, as Soph had pointed out, privacy issues probably weren’t going to hold Zayn back.
The first tour stop had been manic. Hordes of girls had come out to meet Mrs Soph Malik, First Lady of One Direction. And Rose had been proud, in the way Soph had handled it – graciously, calmly and as if she’d been made for the role. Rose had been so happy for her, too. She didn’t envy her – she couldn’t imagine all of those eyes on her -, but she was happy for her, because Soph could handle it.
She even had her own fanbase – the “Sophettes”. They made trending topics on Twitter and some of them weren’t even members of the One Direction fan-base – instead, they preached that Soph was an inspiration to them all in terms of her career and her written skills and her strong, female independence.
“Don’t be fooled, though.” Soph had laughed, when Rose had come to congratulate her on her new heights of fame. “If I left Zayn, these people would be the first to be sending me threats and wishing me dead.”
Rose hadn’t taken any notice of the comment at the time, but looking back – why had Soph even thought about leaving Zayn in the first place?
Rose was a criminal psychologist. Considering Soph was a self-labelled sociopath, it was Rose’s job to keep an eye on her.
And now, something felt... Off. It hadn’t been sudden. In fact, it had been a very gradual change. Rose hadn’t noticed until recently. Initially, she’d thought Soph would need time to herself, to adjust to her new life with Zayn. But now... Knowing Soph...
Rose had always felt a telepathic link with Soph, of sorts. If Soph was crying, or upset, or angry, she could feel it. Their twin telepathy, combined with the fact Soph had been... So... How could she put it...?
Basically, Soph wasn’t being bitchy enough to be feeling normal. That, and Rose just knew her best friend.
It was just as Rose went to open her mouth – though to say what, she didn’t know -, when Zayn walked over.
“Finished already?” Soph asked, glancing up from her iPod and offering him a weak smile, as he kissed her neck subtly, obscured from the view of anybody else. Rose frowned. Soph seemed... Uncomfortable. Why the Hell was he groping her like that?
“Not yet, babe, we’re just on a quick break.”
Rose waited, almost smugly, for the oncoming onslaught that the word “babe” usually brought – but Rose’s smirk faded just as quickly as it came, as Soph said nothing, staring down into her lap.
“Everything alright, babe?” Zayn asked warmly, looking down at her.
“Mhmm.” Soph murmured, flashing Zayn a false smile and avoiding Rose’s eye.
Okay, that was it. Intervention time.
“Zayn, can I borrow Soph for a moment?” Rose said, quickly getting to her feet – and before he could respond, yanking Soph away.
Rose said nothing as she pulled her down the corridor, practically flinging her into a small corner out of sight from Zayn’s curious stares.
“What the Hell was that?” Rose demanded, placing her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“What was what?” Soph mumbled. She didn’t dare look Rose in the eye. If she did, she’d crack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I should probably go back out there, I-”
“No, you’re going to tell me when you decided you suddenly liked being called a baby pig!” Rose hissed, forcing her still by the shoulders. Rose was full-on panicking. Soph had just been called babe. Twice. In the space of less than a minute – and she wasn’t going nuclear. Something was very, very wrong. “Is this about visiting your family this weekend? Can’t you get tickets? Is that why you’re spacing out and allowing yourself to be called a farm animal?!”
Soph shrugged Rose’s hands off of her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. She didn’t want to talk about this now. Not now, not ever.
“I’m not going to visit my family this weekend.” That weekend marked Soph’s grandmother’s death anniversary, and usually, her entire family would gather and pray for her soul and share a meal. It was the first real family function since she’d gotten married, and her entire family was itching to see Zayn and Soph’s interaction. Soph sighed, as Rose’s expression grew even more confused. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Rose asked slowly. “Can’t Zayn get time off work? I thought you said it wasn’t a problem, that-”
“No, I changed my mind, I don’t want to go.” Soph interrupted quickly, sighing as Rose’s mouth dropped slightly open. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like that, please, not when Zayn’s so nearby.”
Rose gaped at Soph, in the same moment that Soph realized the mistake she’d just made by saying that out loud.
“And why the fuck do you suddenly care if Zayn realizes something is wrong?” Rose’s Momma Bear side was coming out. Soph was hurting. And Rose had spent enough countless days and nights, sleeping restlessly in Australia, knowing that in London, Soph was hurting. Rose was in front of her now. She was there to help her best friend. “He’s your husband! If something is wrong, he should have been the second person to know, right after me, and should be helping me do something about it! What’s the problem with your family? We can sort it, it’s f-”
“Zayn’s the problem!” Soph hissed, covering her face in her hands. Rose stopped, sure she hadn’t heard right. “Urgh, Rose! My family has been getting down my parents’ throats about how I’ve married some dumbass pop-star with no credentials to his name, when my fucktard of a cousin from Scotland has his fucking stupid politics degree – and everyone is getting ready to rip Zayn to shreds – and I- I just-!”
Rose said nothing for a while, as Soph screamed into her hand, her face still covered. Rose understood. She understood perfectly.
“He can’t handle it, can he?” Rose murmured, staring at Soph in shock.
Soph let out a gusty sigh, pulling her hands away from her face.
“Not even a second.” Soph laughed bitterly.
Rose wanted to ask what she was thinking, but bit her tongue. Soph would tell her how she was feeling when she was ready – and, besides, Rose knew Soph so well, she was sure she already knew the answer.
They were both silent at Soph’s sudden revelation, however, and the silence hung between the two of them ominously.
“It seems worse on paper, doesn’t it?” Soph asked quietly, watching the opposite wall. Rose said nothing, waiting for her to speak. “That I, with all of my high expectations and standards, married someone with...” Soph stopped herself. What she was thinking – there wasn’t a diplomatic way of saying them out loud. And, if she couldn’t even candy-coat it to make it sound better, she’d rather pretend she wasn’t even thinking it at all.
“What’s making you feel like this?” Rose shook her head as Soph just shook her head sadly. “Is it the pregnancy scare?”
Even at the sound of it, Rose saw Soph flinch. It had been in the first month of the tour – Soph had been nearly a week late, and had been petrified at the prospect of having a baby, particularly so young. She’d been a wreck and had yanked Rose out of bed in the middle of the night, to shakily tell her that she hadn’t started her period yet and she couldn’t remember whether Zayn and her had been entirely safe since tour time – they never had time to themselves anymore and Zayn was always... Eager.
Three pregnancy tests later, and Soph put it down to having changed the type of pill she was on, for birth control. She forgot to take it, especially with the hectic schedule that touring brought. Rose had been strong for her, but had been petrified on Soph’s behalf – she was only twenty-one, with her birthday in a few months time. She was already married to a pop-singer, fresh out of university with only experience from one – albeit amazing – job and in the public eye, a baby would be something else. Not to mention how they were all seeing the effects a baby could have on a person, born or not – they were touring with Niall.
Leaving Ireland had been painful for Niall, especially considering he hadn’t left on good terms with Isolde. Isolde was considering a caesarean, whereas Niall was adamant Alanna’s birth should be natural. They’d argued about it. Isolde had claimed it was her body and her child and she could deal with it however way she wanted – whilst Niall had argued that Alanna had been conceived naturally, and so should be born naturally, as well as the fact Isolde would struggle to meet the demands of a newborn on her own, with stitches in her stomach that wouldn’t allow her to walk for two weeks. Not to mention dealing with the fame.
That was another thing – suddenly, with the impending tour, there had no longer been the concept of a secret. One of Isolde’s supposedly trustworthy neighbours had leaked the story to a local Irish newspaper, and that had been all it took for the world to know within the day. Isolde had received death threats, international hate and even had been questioned on the likelihood that Niall was the father. The public – and fandom – had pushed for Niall to deny her, and it had been a scary few weeks, in those first few of the tour – it felt as if the future of One Direction’s career rested on Niall’s shoulders.
And then, completely randomly, without consulting anyone – Niall had announced onstage that although he and Isolde were not an item, the baby was his.
The tabloids had gone crazy and even now, so much later on, were still barely recovering. Only a few days ago, there had been a magazine boasting the predicted date for Isolde and Niall’s “illegitimate child”, with a brief history of the story and press coverage so far. Niall had kept a low profile since, and Isolde had moved in with Niall’s parents, despite her stubbornness in wanting to do things on her own.
Niall had... Changed, with the upcoming arrival of Isolde. He drank less and partied less. Rose had caught him bashfully trying to read on parenting techniques for those who travelled a lot, helplessly trawling through Google. He kept lecturing Isolde of the foods she could and couldn’t eat and seemed to have Irish Mafia connections, keeping Brian away from Isolde and Alanna at all times. Some fans had been considerate enough to start bringing toys, and cards, for Alanna’s upcoming arrival – and instead of allowing security to dump them in a spare suitcase somewhere, he spent hours going through them... Checking to see what teddies might aggravate babies with allergies, which teddies were scary, which smelt nice, which ones you could have your child sleep with and which ones had to be left on the shelf.
It had been a weird adjustment for the rest of the band members, and even the external team, to see such a considerate change in such a short period of time. Sometimes the boys joked and teased about it, sometimes they helped, sometimes they ignored it – however they felt they could deal with it. More than once, Soph had shot Zayn a dirty glare for teasing Niall about his upcoming fatherhood. Even though Niall knew it was all a joke and took it on his chin, both Soph and Rose could see how his face would flicker when he thought nobody was looking. He’d spend hours with Isolde on the phone, perform, listen to the boys nag... It never stopped for him, and between all of that, he was still working to gain Isolde’s trust. The girls felt for him.
Oddly enough, Soph had been in contact with Isolde, over the past few weeks. Niall had been irritating Isolde to the point of madness, lecturing her on the do’s and don’ts of pregnancy, when Isolde had snapped that if she had to listen to that rubbish, she’d rather hear it from somebody who may be able to understand her a little more... And there Soph had been, arm-wrestling Louis in the corner, at the opportune moment.
In a weird sort of way, Soph would say they were friends.
“There’s that, I guess, and...” Soph groaned again. “And, if I’m being completely honest, Dianna.”
Rose processed this for a moment. Then for another moment. And one moment later, again.
“Since when was that blonde whore a problem?” Rose demanded. Soph closed her eyes for a moment. “I thought – he said – he said he’d stop talking to her if it upset you!”
“He’s a man, Rose, unless I explicitly told him that at the mere mention of her name I want to strangle her scrawny neck, he wouldn’t know whether it upsets me or not.” Soph explained tiredly. “And anyway – Dianna met him accidentally, before the Amsterdam show-”
“In the red light district of the world, on purpose and while you were freaking out, of course.” Rose snorted.
“- and she asked Zayn to be her sponsor, for rehab. He told me that if it bothered him, he wouldn’t do it, but...” Soph thought for a moment. “You know how when somebody asks you a question, they basically tell you, while they say it, the answer they want to hear?”
Rose nodded thoughtfully. That was her family life all over.
“I know what you mean. So, you agreed?” Rose muttered a few choice curse-words under her breath as Soph nodded. “What’s she been doing?”
“Calling him, texting him, emailing him all moments of the day.” Soph said in disgust. “He doesn’t even realize she’s doing it! He’ll be talking to her all day and be all ooh, babe, she really made progress today – and then ten seconds later, he’s all over me.” Soph let out a dark laugh. “And suddenly, he doesn’t get why I’m not in the mood.” Soph seemed to think for a second. “And he is immaturely scared of periods, for a grown man.”
Rose snorted. That was something they both couldn’t handle – the fear boys held towards menstrual cycles. They weren’t the ones bleeding out of their privates and, by some unnatural, evil force, not bleeding to death, but being forced to suffer instead.
Rose watched Soph’s face for a moment. She was holding something back. Rose could feel it.
“Something has... Happened, hasn’t it?” Rose frowned. Instantly, worst-case scenarios started to rush through Rose’s head. “Oh, God. You’re not just still freaked out over the pregnancy scare, there’s something else, isn’t there? Something he said, something between you two? Did you fight? Is that it?”
Soph suddenly really wished, for the briefest of moments, her and Rose were talking over a screen. It was easier to hide behind.
“It’s something really stupid, it’s not even worth mentioning.” Soph tried to say convincingly, it only coming out desperate instead. “And no, no we haven’t fought at all...” Soph’s blank expression returned, freaking Rose out even more. No fighting? Three months in and no fighting?
Both girls automatically remembered all of the conversations they’d had, throughout their friendship, in regards to their future relationships. Whilst wanted attributes, physical features and spouse’s careers had changed over time – particularly for Soph – there was one thing that had never changed.
One of the things that Soph was most known – and adored for – in her inner circle, was her famous temper. It was one of Soph’s defining traits and that, combined with her sharp wit and sense of sarcasm, made her who Rose knew and loved.
Which was why Soph had always wanted a partner just as good as she was.
When people would tell her she needed a calm, laidback future partner, Soph would always say the same thing – so long as he could keep up a good fight. Soph was a believer of the theory that, if they couldn’t have a good argument, they weren’t compatible. She called it the Fire Theory.
The Fire Theory was based around the idea that, if you had a fiery personality with a laidback one, the fiery personality would eventually die out; and although bad habits may disappear, good ones may too, and soon, the fiery personality would be drenched in ice cold water, never to be rekindled again.
Therefore – a fiery personality needed another fiery personality. Two flames made a fire stronger, whilst being destructive enough and opposite enough to equal one another out at the same time. Soph didn’t mind a laidback personality – so long as he had that special feistiness that she was so well known for. Somebody she could argue politics with, somebody who had an opinion, somebody who wasn’t afraid to snap back at Soph’s comments with one as good as her own. Soph had always told Rose that, if she went by the Fire Theory, she could never be unhappy in her life, with whoever she ended up with.
Rose understood why no arguing was bothering Soph – because it went against her theory.
“No newlywed wants to fight in the first year.” It was an effort for Rose to shrug so nonchalantly, but surprisingly, she managed to pull it off. “And it’s not like you two don’t have chemistry when you fight! What’s the thing that has you worrying?”
Soph said nothing, thinking for a few moments. She couldn’t decide whether or not it was something trivial.
“Zayn knows I don’t drink, but the other night – when he came back from the bar with the boys -, he tried to kiss me straight away.” Soph confessed, looking to Rose for comfort. She needed to know what to think. Rose, on the other hand, just about stopped herself from scowling, deciding to loudly sing Lady GaGa’s Poker Face in her head to distract herself. “Am I weird for not liking that?”
Rose took a careful moment to consider her answer.
“He probably shouldn’t have done that.” Rose settled on saying, trying to hide how her hands had curled into fists. Of course he shouldn’t have done that. How dare he disrespect Soph like that? Okay, so Rose was biased to Soph’s point of view, but Rose didn’t even share a drink with Soph if she’d eaten meat in the last few days. It was just... Etiquette. “Look, you’re probably just freaked out about your period being late again. And the reality of being married is hitting some, you’re just... Freaked. It’s fine.”
Soph murmured, not in agreement nor in disagreement, inclining her head. Zayn was calling her.
“If anyone asks, I’ll say I needed a tampon.” Rose told her. A resolve grew in her chest, as Soph dismally tried to rearrange her features into something more positive. What kind of sick, karmic energy of the Universe made it so, that only one of them could be happy at a time? Because it was pissing Rose off. “You go, I’ll catch up, alright?”
Soph nodded and Rose waited until she was back beside Zayn, that she practically ran the opposite way, to the make-up room. The boys’ break would be over soon, and Rose needed a word with Harry Styles.
“An unknown caller rang, I went to answer it, but I didn’t get there in time.” Zayn told Soph, as she returned to him. She took the phone silently. “What was all that about, with Rose?”
“She needed a tampon.” Soph told him listlessly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the way he blanched. She could feel him peering over her shoulder, at her phone screen. She turned to him, tired. “Yeah?”
“Who is it?” Zayn questioned, not looking away.
Soph didn’t know why she was feeling the way she was feeling. She just knew that she was, and the heavy feeling in her chest wasn’t going away.
“It’s an unlisted number, Zayn, so obviously, I don’t have it listed and wouldn’t know.” Soph replied tartly, walking away as she pressed to return the phone call. She ignored the snickers of the bodyguards who had overheard, and the way Zayn rolled his eyes as if to laugh it off – even though his eyes were calculating and watchful when he glanced her way a moment later. The phone dialled. “Hello?”
“Hello?” A deep, male voice replied. Soph absently glanced over her shoulder, to see Zayn looking her way every few seconds, despite being in a conversation.
“Um, hi, I got a missed call from this number...?” Soph said hesitantly, turning her back to Zayn again, covering one ear to hear better. “Hello? Is anyone still there?”
“Sorry, the reception here isn’t wonderful.” The voice replied. Soph tried to place the accent – it wasn’t quite one in itself, but more a mix of many. She could hear an English accent, some American and something else indefinable, that strangely made Soph think of water running over picturesque, grey stones in a lake somewhere. “Hello?”
“Yeah, still here.” Soph said awkwardly. “I got a missed call from here a few moments ago, I-” A thought occurred to her. “You’re not using a stolen phone, are you? That somebody dialled me on before you stole it?”
The man on the other end let out an awkward, half-amused chuckle.
“No, this isn’t a stolen phone. Would I be right in thinking this is Soph...?”
“Yes – I’m sorry, who’s speaking?” Soph wondered if, somehow, the press had got a hold of her number. She already had had to change it twice. “Do I know you? Sorry, you don’t sound familiar.”
“I wouldn’t, my little sister called you on my phone, Bee – sorry, Busra Zafar?”
Soph glanced at the phone in surprise. Busra? The last time they’d spoken, she’d been pretty upset. Soph and her had arranged to meet a few times, only for Soph to have to blow her off last minute, because of the boys. In fact, they hadn’t so much as exchanged a text in the past few weeks.
“Is this Aman?” Soph stopped. “Busra’s big brother?”
“Hi.” Aman seemed to relax. So, this was Busra’s famous brother, slash tycoon, slash business extraordinaire. He sounded pretty... Well, normal. “Sorry, she called on my phone because hers died and now she’s just popped into the shower, but can I take a message or anything?”
“Uh...” Soph was talking to one of the richest young men on the planet, and he was asking her if he could take any messages. Soph decided she liked his voice. It was... Rich, somehow. Not in the monumental way, but in its delivery. “No, thank you, just tell her I called and I can text. Should I save this number, in case she uses it again?”
“It’s up to you, but I’d rather you didn’t let it get out, either way.” Aman sounded almost apologetic. Why this surprised Soph, she didn’t know, but it was a pleasant surprise all the same.
“No, that’s cool.” Soph understood the need for privacy. “Well, thanks. Have a good day.”
“You too.” Aman told her politely. “Goodbye.”
“’Bye.” Soph hung up, Zayn materializing behind her with a questioning look. “Just a friend.” She replied to his unanswered question.
Soph let Zayn nod, satisfied, and wind his arm around her waist, his thumb stroking her hip underneath her T-shirt. Despite the sparks, Soph felt uncomfortable, especially in front of Josh and some of the security staff. Soph had told Zayn she was on her period, hence her strange mood and turning him away when he’d tried to kiss her tipsily – but the realization of the lie made her stomach squirm and her chest felt just as heavy as before.
“Yeah, we’re going to fly to Ireland tonight to make it for the birth of the baby, I really like babies-”
“Harry!” Rose snapped, appearing in the make-up room doorway.
Harry instantly stopped, the smile on his face disappearing. Rose. Rose was there. Talking to him.
They’d been ignoring each other all tour so far. Harry had assumed it was what she wanted, but looking at her expression...
Unwelcome hope leapt into Harry’s chest. He’d been pointedly ignoring her – and he could shamefully admit, whether she liked it or not. He’d heard about her new closeness to Eddie. Clearly, she’d stopped caring. So why couldn’t he?
Hence him flirting with a member of staff from the signing venue.
“You can go now.” Rose told the girl harshly, glowering eyes following her as she left the room wordlessly with wide eyes. Rose stormed over to Harry in his chair, who gulped. She looked pretty. Pretty... And angry.
“Hello, R-” Harry began, but Rose cut him off with a single finger over his mouth. Rose fought to stop her finger from shaking and Harry had the overwhelming urge to take it into his mouth, but both watched the other warily.
“This isn’t a social visit, so all you need to do is shut up and listen, which I know is hard for you, but try.” Rose told him, towering above him. Harry found himself feeling oddly exposed... And liking it. Wait. What? No. He was pretending to not like Rose. She was doing it to him. What was he thinking? “Tell your friend Zayn to get his shit together. I’m not going to sit back and watch Soph get hurt.”
Harry had barely begun to realize he needed a response, when Rose simply stormed away.
It was a few, silent seconds later that Harry realized his heart was still racing, his head was still pounding and his palms had grown hot?
Suddenly, it felt like Rose was back.
