Turn Right: Chapter Twenty-Six
Rose could smell burning.
Blinking groggily, Rose took a minute to remind herself to her surroundings. She was mildly hungover, though it seemed more from sleep, than the beer bottles she remembered from the night before; she was in her flat, alone, because her roommates had taken a fill-in job up North for another boy-band; she’d watched Gone with the Wind last night with Harry –
A strange sensation came over Rose as she remembered last night’s events, in complete detail. Harry and her, Rose and Harry, the both of them together...
And the smell of burning.
Gingerly, Rose threw back the covers of her sheets, quickly pulling on Harry’s shirt before the air could hit her bare body. It wasn’t until it was on that Rose realized wearing Harry’s shirt would have an implication – but it was too late now and, as Rose fought a smile, she realized that even if for a tiny bit longer, she wanted to pretend everything was simple; and the act of wearing Harry’s shirt was just wearing Harry’s shirt.
Quietly, Rose opened her bedroom door and looked across the hall to where she could see into the kitchen, watching as Harry cursed quietly under his breath as he fussed over the stove. He was in boxers and an apron and, as Harry turned his back to Rose to look for something in the cupboards, she saw the way his boxers were low-slung on his hips.
Last night had been... Different to what Rose had been expecting. Although she’d originally planned to seduce Harry, last night’s turn of events had been entirely sporadic. And although Rose felt slightly smug that she’d gotten her way – a by-product of being friends with Soph, Rose was sure -, the natural course of events had been better than anything contrived.
Rose hadn’t planned on telling Harry about Lily – it wasn’t something to dangle in front of him to make him trust her, it wasn’t a part of some big plan. And Rose knew that meant something – and she’d felt it, too, when they’d continued what they’d started in the kitchen in the bedroom, she’d felt them give a part of each other to one another. Maybe that was sappy – and it was definitely cheesy. But Rose had felt it.
A loud clatter broke Rose’s train of thought and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, as she saw Harry’s face become assaulted by a selection of pots. Harry fell to the floor unceremoniously, groaning – and, still trying to hide her amusement, Rose went to him.
“You’re useless in the kitchen.” Rose told him fondly, crouching down and watching as Harry groaned on the floor, his hands cupping one side of his face. “What were you doing?!”
“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” Harry muttered, his voice muffled. Gently, Rose pulled his hand away – just underneath his eye and near his cheekbone, she could already see a bruise forming. “Pancakes.”
Rose glanced at her kitchen. It was chaos – flour was everywhere and the mixing bowl wasn’t a mixing bowl, but a salad bowl.
“Hang on.” Rose murmured, walking over to the freezer and bending over to retrieve an ice pack she knew she had in there somewhere. Mission successfully completed, she turned, to see Harry smiling goofily at her – or, more accurately, where her backside had been a second ago. “Sorry I stole your shirt, it was the only thing I could-”
“No, it’s fine!” Harry said quickly, propping himself up by the elbows. Rose couldn’t help but think of how sexual that looked – and judging by Harry’s mischievous expression, it hadn’t escaped him either. “I wouldn’t have been totally opposed to you being naked again, but...”
Rose instantly flushed bright red and, wrapping the ice pack in a tea towel and quickly handing it to Harry without looking at him, went to leave the kitchen, mumbling excuses.
“Hey, don’t go.” Harry called out softly, grabbing her wrist. Rose hesitated, allowing him to pull her back down beside him. “Are you shy?” Rose blushed again, rolling her eyes but still keeping them trained on the floor. “Because you were not shy last night-”
“Harry!” Rose groaned, going to stand back up again... Only for Harry to laugh and, it was such a relaxed, carefree, happy laugh, it disarmed Rose long enough for Harry to pull her back down again.
Carelessly shoving the ice aside, Harry leant forward so that, with Rose on her knees and Harry lying propped on the kitchen floor, his breath fanned her neck.
“You have nothing to be shy about. You’re fucking stunning, Rose, in every way.” Harry whispered, smirking triumphantly to himself as Rose’s eyelids fluttered close as Harry’s lips pressed her neck.
Harry needed no further encouragement.
Within seconds, Rose was straddling his lap, Harry pushing his shirt down her shoulders. The only sounds were that of their breathing and the cooker being on – and even that they couldn’t hear.
“Hey, Soph, I just got back from that hospital appointment-” Harry and Rose both stopped, confused at the voice. It was familiar. “Oh. Oh, this... Isn’t Soph. Wow, uh, good morning, Rose. I’m out of town for the next few days, so I won’t be around-”
And just like that, Rose and Harry broke away, their faces the pictures of guilt as they realized what they’d done – and the thing they’d wanted to carry on doing.
Was Soph not in her current callous, uncaring state, Jai Kapoor’s opulence of living may have been intimidating.
As it stood, it had been a very long day.
After Soph’s talk with Jai, which had taken longer than she’d realized and led her into the early hours of the morning, she had hesitated outside the small hotel that they’d all stayed at for the night, thanks to its closeness to Holi. Soph had known they would all be moving to the Kapoor household later that day – but until then, she’d had to work out where to sleep.
After her disappointing conversation with Zayn, Soph had felt more reluctant with each step to share a room with him. The thought of lying next to him... It made her skin crawl, it made her feel dirty and cheap just thinking about it.
So, as any sane person would, Soph had found a bench outside the hotel lobby, politely explained to the staff she was feeling a little sick and then had promptly fallen asleep. It hadn’t been until a few hours later, when the sun had just risen, that somebody had obnoxiously nudged her shoulder with their trainer to wake her up.
“Why,” Aman had begun, looking down at Soph with a baffled expression. “Are you sleeping on a bench at four-thirty am?”
Soph had sleepily flipped him the finger and uncomfortably rolled her body, so her back was to him. She’d waited until she’d heard his familiar sigh and the sound of him jogging away, when she’d sat up and wondered what she was going to do.
Thankfully, her question had already been answered by the time she’d walked back into the hotel. A hoard of Jai’s drivers were packing all of their suitcases into cars. Jai himself had been sitting outside, Raj shirtless on his knee, messily guzzling a tall glass of fresh buffalo milk. He’d smiled happily at Soph upon seeing her.
Jai and Soph had said nothing to one another. After their conversation the evening before, small talk seemed... Stupid.
The Kapoor home wasn’t far and, as it was an ancestral home, had it not been inhabited, Soph would have mistaken it as a tourist attraction. Guards flanked the tall, black iron-wrought gates, guns strapped over their chests. The home – more like mansion – itself was an austere, beige affair, with plenty of balconies and windows that could be seen from before the gates.
As strange as it was, to walk into such grandeur knowing Jai considered it home, Soph couldn’t help but feel slightly more... At home. It wasn’t such a different scene from Pakistan and Soph knew how to accordingly.
Or would have known, had her husband not been a complete mess in the heat.
Soph had said nothing as Zayn had begun to look more and more uncomfortable and weary, the sun beating down on them all too much for him to bear. It was very hot – but Soph didn’t have the heart to tell him that the more he fussed over himself, the hotter he would become. The quicker he became accustomed to the heat – which included sweating like a pig – the easier it would be.
Bee and Lucky had been at Soph’s side the entire time, telling her stories of how they’d spent their childhood in the Kapoor family home, as well as anecdotes of Jai and Aman as young boys. Soph had gladly taken the distraction from thoughts of poisoning Zayn under the pretence of giving him medicine.
There then had been the opportunity for them to sleep off their jet lag. Luckily, or so Soph thought anyway, Zayn had begun vomiting at this point – the food he’d eaten the night before hadn’t been delicate enough for his stomach and he was therefore sitting in the courtyard, with one of the house staff feeding him special water mixed with herbs to hydrate him between either vomiting or having to run to the bathroom.
Upon seeing that, Soph had mentally thought to thank her father for taking her to Pakistan so many times. Soph apparently had a stomach of steel anyway, but all the same – she had been completely unaffected by the food, thanks to her previous visits to the other side of the border.
Anyway, after the initial settling in and hanging out, Jai had announced his plans to have a big party that evening. Soph had been entirely sceptical of this plan – there seemed to be no real purpose to this event, other than, well, partying – but had pointedly been ignored in the face of Jai’s distraction from his miserable life.
Except for one thing, that is. When Soph had gone up to her room, with Lucky and Bee in tow to force her into something appropriately shiny for her introduction into their high society, a bouquet of freshly cut flowers had been waiting for her.
The small card had contained one simple instruction; don’t say thank you.
Soph had shaken her head in disbelief, shrugging off Lucky and Bee’s questions. Somehow, she didn’t think it necessary – or appropriate – to repeat her and Aman’s conversation from the night before.
“I am really not sure about this.” Soph murmured, looking down at herself with a grimace. “Isn’t it a bit... Glamorous?”
Bee and Lucky stared at Soph with incredulity. They were all at Lucky’s, an equally large and intimidating house next door, getting ready. Lucky was sitting at the end of her bed with rollers in her hair as she expertly finished applying her make-up – lip liner in particular -, whilst Bee walked around in her underwear, choosing between two very similar outfits in two very similar shades of pink. Apparently, there was a difference; Soph just couldn’t see it.
Being with the two of them was enough to break anyone’s self-esteem.
Soph had dressed quickly and privately, whilst Bee and Lucky had fussed over girly things. She was wearing something of Bee’s, an outfit she’d promised had never been taken out of the packaging, which was something Soph could believe; whilst Lucky was wearing a very fancy looking sari and Bee a long dress called an anarkali, the girls had whined long enough for Soph to agree to something much more glamorous than usual.
It was nothing too new, not unlike what she’d worn for her wedding – a long skirt and a blouse. Of course, that was just the basic design – it was significantly different from her red wedding outfit; much less ornate and thankfully, a lot less heavier, too. The skirt, a dark purple, flowed from her waist past her ankles, just about not dragging against the floor. It was made of a silky fabric that shimmered whenever Soph moved. The bottom of the skirt had the smallest line of silver trim running along the bottom.
Now, skirts Soph could handle. Long, flowing skirts like that, Soph could deal with – they gave much more freedom of movement than the A-line skirt Soph had worn for her wedding. Plus, Soph was getting away with wearing low-top white Converses underneath this skirt.
No, the problem lay in the blouse.
As per Indian fashion, the blouse was short. Very short. As in, as perfectly plain it was in the same soft matieral as the skirt – Soph liked plain, comfortable things – it started on her shoulders and stopped just underneath her bust.
If it weren’t for the fact her – once again, silky, flowing – scarf was large enough to swaddle an army of newborns, Soph would have refused to leave Lucky’s room. She wasn’t confident in showing off her body – she’d never done it before and, quite honestly, the only people who had seen her body had been her mother at birth and Zayn after their wedding.
Then again... Honestly, if Soph had known she’d fit into Bee’s clothes, she wouldn’t have humoured her by agreeing to let her find an outfit. It had shocked Soph, to see her stomach so flat – it had brought home just how much she hadn’t been eating and the effect the miscarriage had had on her.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“If that’s glamorous to you, I hate to think of how you dressed before we met.” Bee laughed, leaving Soph wondering whether she should be insulted or not. Soph slipped on some purple bangles Lucky had left out for her, rolling her eyes. “Okay, definitely this one.” Bee nodded towards the ever-so-slightly lighter pink, before picking it up and moving resolutely over to the bathroom. It was just as she shut the door behind her, that somebody knocked on the bedroom door.
“We’re not ready yet!” Lucky called, keeping her eyes focused on the precision with which she was checking her make-up.
Soph froze where she stood – she’d been checking her nails – and, with wide eyes, looked over to Lucky.
It was if Lucky was a statue. Soph wasn’t even sure she was breathing.
“Lucky?” Jai knocked again, sounding much more awkward this time. Soph hadn’t brought up Jai and Lucky’s relationship with either one, ever since the revelation of their history yesterday. Judging by Lucky’s reaction to Jai addressing her directly – and the awkwardness seeping in through the bedroom door from Jai – it was a good thing Soph hadn’t. “Look, I’m really sorry to disturb you, but I need to talk to Soph. Tiff said she’d be here, I-”
“No, I’m here.” Soph piped up, before Jai could embarrass himself further. Soph looked over to where Lucky was sitting, her eyes downcast at the floor. “You okay?” Soph asked quietly.
Lucky shook her head, smiling.
“I’d better...” Soph motioned to the door, waiting for Lucky’s nod of approval before slipping outside, careful to show Jai as little of Lucky’s private space as she could. “That was terrible.” Soph told Jai quietly, as she shut the door behind her.
“Whatever.” Jai replied irritably, before grabbing her arm and yanking her down the stairs. “We need to talk.”
“Um, how about you unhand me first, peasant?” Soph snorted, yanking her arm away as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Her outfit was too long to scuffle from a high space. Jai glared. “Look, if this is about Lucky, I didn’t say anything-”
“Would you like a medal for it?” Jai snapped.
“What is your problem?” Soph demanded, aghast at Jai’s attitude. Jai said nothing, childishly crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “Look, dude, you were the one that dragged me out here, so if you’re done practicing your pout, I’m going back upsta-”
“No, wait!” Jai said quickly, catching Soph’s wrist – much more gently this time. Soph stopped warily, facing him with a bored expression. “Look, I hate this just as much as you do, but – I need your help.”
“Jai, just because I think you should talk to Lucky doesn’t mean I’m going to-”
“Not with her!” Jai said impatiently. “It’s... It’s about Aman.”
Soph blinked. That was unexpected.
“He’s not coming to the party tonight and you have to make him come.” Jai told her seriously. Soph stared at him for a few seconds, wondering whether he was serious. “He has to come tonight and I think you’re the only one that can persuade him.”
“This is just-” Soph sighed and rubbed her temples. She was dressed ridiculously feminine, bringing back memories of happier days that only made her current situation seem darker, and now Jai was under the impression that she was his fairy godmother. Not to mention how ridiculously aware Soph was of her scarf – as of now, it was draped over her shoulders in such a way that the hem finished just above her hips, but it still was translucent. “Aman’s a big boy, okay? If he doesn’t want to come to some stupid party, I think he’s big enough and ugly enough to make that decision for himself.”
Soph had just walked away – did Jai have spoilt brat syndrome or what? – when he called out something that changed her mind.
“He’s going to a fight tonight.” Jai told her quietly. “It’s not like New York here.”
Soph didn’t need Jai to explain; she instantly understood. At least in New York, Aman’s “bad habit” had certain rules attached, limits maintained from fear of the law. In India... Maybe there weren’t such boundaries.
“Well...” This was the wrong time for her mind to go blank, Soph thought angrily to herself. “You’re the newly-reinstated best friend! What do you expect me to do? What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”
“Because there are things I know that you don’t.” Jai told her impatiently, already pushing her shoulders towards the door. “Now go!”
“I don’t know where he is!” Soph protested.
“The last I saw, he was leaving my place, now hurry up!” Jai told her, already shoving her away again. “Soph, please, I already have Zara and Raj to deal with-”
“Fine, fine!” Soph huffed, leaving Lucky’s. “You owe me for this!”
But Jai was already heading in the other direction.
Soph glanced over her shoulder at Jai’s place, where people were already pulling up to the impressive driveway. The sun was beginning to set – it’d be dark soon.
Soph quickened her pace. Something about the thought of Aman deliberately putting himself in harm’s way angered Soph – it was such a selfish, stupid thing to do. He had family, family who cared about him; and what about his usual carefulness in regards to how people perceived him? What hypocrisy, that it magically disappeared when he deemed it necessary –
Oh, but she was doing the exact same thing.
Before Soph could ponder on that strangely fair fact, she saw Aman just exiting the gates that marked Jai’s property.
“Hey! Hey, wait!” Soph shouted, trying to walk faster without tripping over herself. “Hey! Aman, you idiot!” Soph easily slipped between English and Urdu, the guards nodding politely at her as they held open the gate for her to pass. “Are you deaf or what – Aman!”
So, in a rather irritated attempt to finally garner his Majesty’s attention, Soph grabbed a heavy, medium-sized rock and threw it with all of her might towards Aman’s head.
In fairness to Soph, she’d never been very good with sports, particularly those demanding some sort of hand-eye co-ordination. Dodgeball had been the only one Soph hadn’t been totally abysmal at in high school, and even then it was because the other team knew she had unhealthy amounts of aggression locked within her and deliberately got tagged out of fear; fear of being on the receiving end of Soph’s wrath, should they dare stand between her and her team’s victory.
The notion of the rock ever hitting target wasn’t even a consideration. In fact, a part of Soph thought it was going to hit her, by some weird twist of physics.
But instead... The rock hit the back of Aman’s head.
Soph squeaked and clapped a hand over her mouth in horror, at the same time she realized Aman had been listening to his iPod.
Aman – who had loudly yelled “ow” – turned, to see Soph staring wide-eyed at him.
“Are you trying to kill me?!”
“It was an accident!” Soph interrupted, wincing as Aman pulled his fingertips away from his head, to show red. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry-”
“Who just throws rocks at people, Soph?” Aman demanded, stumbling slightly as he went to take a step forward. Soph rushed over, mentally trying to cast her mind back to high school science. Could something of such small impact cause concussion? Why hadn’t they taught useful things like that in class?! “Can’t you just tap me on the shoulder like a normal person?”
“I thought you were ignoring me!” Soph said desperately, pushing a slightly dizzy Aman to sit on the little brick wall behind him. The guards were watching curiously. Oh, God. Soph was killing one of India’s leading businessman and about to get caught for it, too. “I am so, so, sorry-”
“Keep your hands away from me, I mean it.” Aman warned, wincing as he slid down to the floor, his vision blurry. “Jesus Christ, where did you get an aim like that? Why don’t you go and play for the Pakistani cricket team, instead of bothering me?”
It took Soph a minute to realize that she wasn’t actually being given a compliment.
“I’m sorry.” Soph winced, hovering over him. It suddenly occurred to Soph that her ironically correct aim actually worked in her favour; if Jai was right and Aman had been planning on going to a fight – which, judging by the large black backpack he’d been sporting, suddenly wasn’t so far-fetched -, he certainly wasn’t in any position to attend one now. “I- I mean, it’s your fault anyway! Who decides to become a runaway right before some fancy, big party?”
“Runaway?” Aman repeated, his hand hovering uncertainly over the part of his tousled dark hair that was becoming increasingly darker and sticky. “Are you serious?”
“What else am I supposed to think when you’re going in a totally different direction to where you’re supposed to be going, with a rucksack filled with-” Soph ignored Aman’s protests and opened the main zip, her throat suddenly feeling rather dry at the spare set of clothes, trainers and gum shield inside. “- what even is this stuff? Who are you, Brad Pitt in Fight Club?”
“Yes, clearly.” Aman snapped, wincing as he gently touched his head. Soph swatted his hands away, that didn’t look sanitary. Suddenly, as if Aman had just noticed, he glanced at Soph up and down. “Well, you look different.”
“I look like I can’t afford clothes.” Soph muttered, irritably pushing her hair away from her face. Thanks to the half-can of anti-humidity spray Lucky had almost suffocated Soph with upon getting out of the shower, Soph’s dark hair was now curled messily at the ends, the waves framing her face. Carefully, Soph crouched beside Aman, leaning over him to look at where the bleeding was... Of which there was a lot. Guilt crashed over Soph like a wave. Delicately, Aman wincing as she did so, Soph pressed her fingertips near the wound. “Here, let’s get you up, I’m so sorry.”
Aman grunted, as he pulled himself to stand, feeling dizzy again. Unthinkingly, he took Soph’s outstretched hand as he almost fell – clutching it to stand.
“That’s why you look nice.” Aman told her, taking a minute to get his bearings as he stood. Soph picked up the backpack, but Aman instantly took it off of her, slinging back onto his shoulder instead. “Looking like you can’t afford clothes is part of the charm.”
Soph’s guilt went as quickly as it had come.
“You’re fine.” Soph grumbled, shoving him away as he grinned. “So... I got some flowers today.”
“Saying thank you defeats the whole purpose.” Aman warned, pulling a crumpled tissue out of his pocket and pressing it to the back of his head. “If you really want to thank me, try not killing me next time.” He added thoughtfully.
“Oh, shut up.” Soph huffed, though not with much conviction – more out of guilt than anything else. “All I was going to say – is that you shouldn’t skip out on this thing Jai is doing tonight.”
“You’re only saying that because I agreed to make Zayn feel jealous.” Aman argued.
“No.” Soph retorted childishly; before, acting on impulse, forcing Aman to sit back down on the brick wall and standing over him. “You shouldn’t bail on him like this. What happened to caring so much about your precious reputation?”
Aman said nothing, causing Soph to let out a frustrated groan. She sat beside him with a sigh, her bangles jingling as she moved. More and more people were driving into Jai’s driveway, with expensive cars and haughty expressions.
“It’s because they know what happened, isn’t it?” Soph finally asked quietly. Aman shrugged – and it was so boyish, that temporarily, Soph forgot the capacity Aman had to be so cold. “You can’t hide out here forever. You’re just giving them what they want.”
“As opposed to...?” Aman asked.
“Giving them less of what they want.” Soph smiled, nudging him. “Come on. Whatever’s going on with you-”
“I take it you’re referring to the backpack full of fight gear?” Aman said pointedly.
“- you and Jai need each other tonight.” Soph finished, ignoring him. “You said so yourself, didn’t you? Back in New York, that everyone was looking for a reason to drag you down?”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Aman mumbled apologetically.
“Whatever.” Soph told him, it already forgotten. “The longer you sit out here, the more ammunition you’re giving them and that’s what they want. Take their power from them. Walk in there like there’s no Zara, like nothing’s changed, and dare them to say anything.”
They both fell into comfortable silence again. It was only when a car drove past, a breeze coming with it, that Soph realized how close they were – as she huddled her shoulders together at the sudden wave of air, she realized how her and Aman’s sides were pressed next to one another, from shoulder to calves.
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Aman asked thoughtfully, looking up at her. Soph forced back a blanch as she realized how close their faces were. Aman seemed unfazed at the intimacy, but Soph had to remind herself that Zayn wasn’t the only one that had been physically close to her. She hugged Tiff a lot and had hugged the boys... But there was something about seeing the details of Aman’s face at such an intimately close level – like the light stubble growing on his chin and jaw-line, and the way the sun was catching his brown eyes – that made Soph feel uncomfortable. “About Zayn, when you go back to London?”
Not uncomfortable in a way that made her feel scared, no. If anything she was uncomfortable with how... Comfortable she was. Like they’d been friends their entire lives, like she was just talking to Tiff about his relationship again.
“Uh-” Soph told herself to snap out of it. “Sorry, what?” Soph began to subtly shift away, as if she were about to stand up. “I-”
“Stop running.” Aman rolled his eyes, pulling Soph by the wrist right back to where she’d been. “Is that what you’re going to do when you go home with Zayn? After you guys sort it out, are you going to look at people and dare them to say anything?”
“I wasn’t running and you seem to have a lot of confidence in me and Zayn magically sorting things out, but-” Soph thought for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I think I would, no matter how much I would hate it.”
Aman murmured, nodding his head, before finally speaking up.
Soph stared at him dubiously.
“Just like that?” She asked sceptically.
“Just like that.” Aman agreed, standing up, grimacing as he moved his head. He wasn’t as dizzy as before, but his head was throbbing. “I mean, I look fine-”
Soph stared at Aman in surprise. He was in jeans and a plaid T-shirt.
“You can’t go looking like that.” Soph snorted. “Even I know that.”
“But I don’t have anything to wear.” Aman frowned, both of them on their feet but remaining side by side. “And before you ask, I am not asking my sister.”
Soph couldn’t help but laugh. She could understand why. Even now, Soph felt like a fool.
“We’ll find you something.” Soph promised.
“Okay.” Aman said slowly. With a sigh, he slung an arm around the back of Soph’s shoulders. “And I’m confident of you and Zayn magically sorting things out, because he’ll be at his knees begging for forgiveness, after my moves today.”
Soph didn’t even have to think about a snarky response. It came naturally to her. What could she say? It was a gift.
Aman stopped, forcing Soph to a stop, too.
“Oh, really?” Aman smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The expression made foreboding curl at the bottom of her stomach. Had she just done something really stupid? “We’ll see...”
“Right up against the wall?” Louis whistled lowly as Liam nodded. “Bloody Hell. And she didn’t even give you a name?”
“Not a full one, I told you.” Liam sighed. “Just Kara.”
“She sounds like trouble.” Niall said seriously, managing to capture Liam and Louis’ attention. “Oh, come on? A girl, running through SoHo at a time like that, before she shoves you against a wall and doesn’t finish off the handjob she started? It may be as hot as you like, but it’s not screaming meet my mother material.”
“Says the one with a kid out of wedlock.” Louis pointed out. “What were you saying?”
“How are things going with Isolde, anyway?” Liam suddenly asked, desperate to change the topic. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to discuss Kara with the boys any more. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he’d kept it to himself. “How come you’re not with Alanna?”
“Not that we begrudge you for spending time with her.” Louis hastily added. “It’s just you’ve been doing the whole fatherly thing pretty well recently.”
“The girls are having some bonding time together.” Niall sighed, popping open one of the beers sitting on the table and taking a happy sip. “Sorry, I don’t drink around Alanna. And as for Isolde – it isn’t going anywhere.”
Louis turned to him in surprise.
“I thought you were pulling the famous Irish charm?” Niall shrugged. “Niall, that’s poor. Even for you.”
“Ah, funny, you little wank.” Niall mocked, before staring thoughtfully at the wall. “Nah, I don’t want to rush into things. I’d rather it took forever and she trusted me, than we jumped in now and messed it all up again.”
“You mean before you messed it all up again.” Liam corrected, grinning. Niall grimaced.
“Talking of messing things up, has anyone seen Harry about?” Louis asked, personally feeling glad they were all mocking each other like the good old days. Things had become much too serious in the past few months – starting with Zayn and Soph’s marriage and ending in Niall’s forlorn love life. “I know he and Rose-” Louis paused, glancing over at Liam. “Is that a safe topic now that Kara’s in the picture, or is it still a no-no?”
“It’s fine.” Liam sighed tiredly. “Do you think he went through with it?”
“With what?” Louis frowned, once again feeling hopelessly out of the loop.
“Rose’s plan of seduction.” Niall told him, suggestively wagging his eyebrows. Louis blanched. Did nobody tell him anything anymore? “Rose wanted the D.”
But before Louis could even begin to process what Niall had just said, Niall was already standing, groaning as he saw the time.
“Lads, I’m off, I have a Young Father’s meeting, and Gavin likes to get there before the press for parking.” Niall told them, placing his beer back on the table and heading towards the door. “Liam, did you want that lift?”
“Wait, where’s everyone going?” Louis cried, jumping to his feet. “Can’t anyone just kick back anymore?”
“I’ve got that kidney cancer charity thing, remember?” Liam reminded him, picking up his jacket from a nearby chair. “I’ve got to see the stylists, they yelled blue murder last time I was late.”
“Oh, and before I go-” Niall said, popping his head back into the lounge. “I found a couple of spare mobiles in the kitchen drawer, do you know whose they are?”
Liam and Louis both shrugged, Louis adding “nope”.
“Ah, well, give us a shout if no-one collects them, I need a new one and with Alanna around, there’s no point on spending money on a new one if you’ve got spares lying around. They’ve got passwords on them though, so they must be someone’s.” Niall nodded, before disappearing back into the hallway again. Liam waved as he left, too. “Catch you later, Louis!” Niall called, before the sound of the door shutting loudly.
Louis stood there for a moment, before pulling out his phone and dialling one of the most called numbers on his phone this week.
“Louis, what a surprise-”
“Yeah, yeah, just – you can come over now, alright?” Louis interrupted, Dianna’s tinkling laugh being her response. “There’s nobody else around. How soon can you get here?”
“As soon as you’d like, baby!” Dianna cooed, before Louis hung up.
He knew what that meant – she’d be there in less than twenty minutes.
“There you-” Zayn stopped, as Soph turned begrudgingly at the sound of her husband’s voice.
Since almost giving Aman brain damage, Soph had managed to convince Bee to get her something to cover herself with – as she’d explained, if she was going to be around Zayn playing the happy married couple for any nosy busybodies, she didn’t want him to have direct access to bare skin.
As a result, Bee had rustled up the mysterious rest of the outfit that Soph had always suspected to exist; a translucent chiffon overcoat, like a cardigan. The sleeves only reached up to her elbows and the small, hook fastening was located underneath her bust, emphasizing just how much of her blouse was truly missing, but it was better than not having anything at all. Normally, with an overcoat like that, Soph knew scarves weren’t typically worn – but again, she felt insecure and uncomfortable in her own skin, especially knowing Zayn would be watching her – so she dealt with feeling slightly foolish over feeling anything else.
But that wasn’t all. Soph’s hair was pulled away from her face with a clip, showing something... Refreshing in her expression, like she’d fallen asleep in the sun, and woken up smiling to a blue sky.
She didn’t at all look like her husband had just cheated on her and abandoned their marriage as she’d miscarried their first child together.
“Did you want something, or did you just want to show me your goldfish impression?” Soph sighed tiredly, with raised eyebrows.
“I, uh-” Zayn stumbled over his words, not even noticing how Soph seemed to tense as she saw what he was wearing. Asian clothes, just like Jai, casual, billowing trousers and a long dress shirt – only his dress shirt was a cool grey. Soph assumed he’d borrowed something from someone. “We need to talk, it’s about work-”
“No.” Was Soph’s immediate response. “The answer is no.”
“At least listen to me.” Zayn pleaded, ignoring Soph quietly laugh in contempt. Listen. She’d tried that, hadn’t she? “Look, the media apparently thinks things aren’t going so well-” Zayn hastily continued as Soph’s expression turned into one of dark disbelief. “- so they’ve made this... Blog thing. We have to ask questions on it, act like everything is okay.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Soph shook her head, fighting to stay calm. “No, Zayn. The answer is no.”
“It’s not just my career you’re destroying, it’s the boys’-”
“Then I’ll consider it later, alright?” Soph sighed, turning away. She was hiding in the archway, watching the crowd as they gathered in the large – well, it wasn’t a room so much as a small hall. Jai was on the opposite side, welcoming guests, with Zara and Raj; people were already starting to dance and drink. Apparently, Jai had quite the reputation for his parties. “Not now-”
“Soph, look, I know I’m insecure, but I’m trying-”
“Zayn, I’m not doing this with you now! What is wrong with y-”
“Do we look hot, or sexy, or both?” Tiff interrupted, standing between Zayn and Soph proudly and pulling on his collar. He was more formal than Zayn, in an overcoat like Soph, only the male version – called a sherwani – that wore like a shirt without the buttons. It was dark blue velvet. “Bee said we had to make the right impression.”
“Snazzy.” Soph nodded, giving Tiff two thumbs up and a grin. “Definitely making a good impression.”
Just as Tiff opened his mouth to respond, Zayn interrupted. It irked him how easily Tiff could make her smile. Zayn was working his ass off at it and he still wasn’t getting anywhere.
“We were having a conversation.” Zayn forced a polite smile, ignoring the mortification that instantly flashed across Soph’s face. How could he be so rude? What did he want, a giant discussion worthy of couple counselling, right before they had to pretend to be a happily married?!
“Yeah, I know.” Tiff nodded easily – well, to the common eye. To his childhood friend? Soph could see his shoulders stiffen. “But I saw Soph’s expression and knew the conversation was over.”
Soph lost her eyebrows somewhere up by her forehead.
Tiff and Zayn stared each other down for a few moments, Zayn’s fists clenched at his sides. The tension was palpable.
“I text you the first question.” Zayn finally managed through gritted teeth, practically spitting his words at Soph. Soph was getting whiplash from his sudden moods – was he back to hating her now? “You might want to think about how you’re going to answer them when we go over them tonight.”
Soph only nodded, staring at Tiff in shock as soon as Zayn’s back was turned.
“What was that?” Soph demanded. “He was so close to hitting you!”
“I could take him.” Tiff snorted. “No, but seriously. Don’t we look hot or what? Pakistan represent has been taken to a whole new level.”
Soph couldn’t help it. Despite shaking her head a little at how – how sure Tiff always was – she laughed.
“We do look hot.” Soph nodded, before wrinkling her nose. “Well, you do.”
“Hey, don’t try that compliment fishing rubbish with me, okay?” Tiff said, making Soph laugh again. Tiff smiled, standing a little closer. “And, uh, by the way? I thought about what you said.”
Without even asking, Soph knew.
“You guys did it yesterday?” Soph grinned, clutching Tiff’s arm and letting out a small scream, his and Zayn’s previous standoff forgotten. “Oh my God, finally, I’m so pro-”
“Not yet.” Tiff hushed, actually looking a little bit flushed. Soph had to physically hold back from hugging him. Tiff was actually being a decent enough human being that he was getting embarrassed about something! In that moment, Soph couldn’t adore Bee more. “I was thinking... Tonight. You know.” Tiff winked, both of them grinning again. “Seeing as we’re making impressions.”
Soph burst into a fit of laughter.
“Excellent plan.” She agreed, clutching onto his arm as their bodies shook from trying to giggle under their breath. “Oh my God, yes, I like this plan!”
“But like-” Tiff suddenly continued, seeming serious now. Soph wasn’t. Nope, she was still laughing. “How do I not hurt her, you know? I mean, we’ve waited, it’s got to be good, you don’t know what it’s like waking up every morning with a-”
“Okay, that-” Soph pointed behind them. “- was the boundary to this topic and you sojust crossed it. Ew!”
“Well, who else do I ask?” Tiff huffed. “Who? My brother in law? Oh, hey, fancy telling me how best to penetrate-”
“Penetrate.” Soph repeated, almost falling over from laughter again. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, carry on, it’s just – you said-”
“Penetrate.” Tiff repeated, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. “I said penetrate, because I was asking you-”
“Finish that sentence and you won’t have anything to penetrate with.”
Soph shouldn’t have found it so funny. She shouldn’t have. There was really no reason to laugh. But the look of nausea that crossed Aman’s face and the horror that crossed Tiff’s - it was just too much.
“Penetrate.” Soph whispered again, unable the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Oh, goodness. Wow. That should not be as funny as it was.
Tiff stood there awkwardly as Soph unwittingly put one hand on each boy’s shoulder – one on Tiff’s, the other on Aman’s as she shook, fighting to stay upright.
“Oh, whoa.” Tiff breathed, whether seconds later or minutes, Soph was unsure. “I- I have to go, I-” Still muttering to himself, Tiff walked off, apparently no longer caring whether or not Soph could keep herself upright.
Soph’s laughter subsided just in time for her to see Tiff walk up to Bee in awe. Soph smiled, slightly sadly, to herself at the awe on Tiff’s face – Bee looked radiant, her hourglass figure and tumbling dark hair making her look like some sort of princess. And as much as Soph didn’t like those sorts of things, she couldn’t help but smile at how Tiff and Bee, standing together and smiling bashfully at one another, looked like something out of a fairytale.
“I find that sickening.” Aman murmured, watching as Bee tucked her hand underneath Tiff’s arm, her face the picture of pride at her partner. “I want to be sick. Preferably on his shoes.”
“You’re lucky she has someone that cares for her like that.” Soph said softly, the emptiness in her chest – and stomach – reminding her of its presence once more. Before Aman could say anything – anything – to comfort her somehow, Soph brushed it off. She wasn’t doing this to herself, no way. “Oh, hey! I told you that’d look good, didn’t I?”
They both glanced at Aman’s attire, which Soph was personally very proud of. Like Tiff – and different to Zayn and Jai -, his trousers weren’t the usual, spacious ones Soph relied on as PJ bottoms, but were tapered at the ankle. He wasn’t as formal as Tiff, though – like Jai and Zayn, Aman too wore a dress-shirt, though with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and in a bright turquoise.
“Turquoise is so my colour.” Aman said wryly. Soph shook her head. He was reading her mind. Again. “So, before we go out there and magically fix your marriage, I just have one question.”
“Well, two. But we’re friends now, so I don’t need to ask again.” Soph smiled at Aman’s cockiness. Ah yes, Aman had a certain aversion to friendship. How had she forgotten? “Firstly – how self-confident are you?”
“Not very.” Soph replied instantly, surprising herself with her honesty. “Second question?”
“How much do you trust me?”
Zayn glanced up at the elderly man standing over him. He had a very big, very well maintained moustache.
“No, no, go for it.” Zayn replied politely, hitting his phone against his palm a few times before slipping it back into his pocket. It was apparent – Harry wasn’t going to answer his texts. Not today, anyway. Well, it was the first day he’d actually tried to contact him... “Do you know Jai?” He asked. It wasn’t like there was anybody else to talk to – not while Soph was refusing to participate with the new ask blog, anyway.
“As well as you can know someone like that.” The man told him, settling comfortably beside him, his polished, mahogany walking stick placed arrogantly before him. “And you, beta?” Hearing that, a term of endearment that reminded him of home, Zayn instantly relaxed.
He wasn’t sure what it quite was that made him speak as much as he did, though. Maybe it was just the thought of someone being on his side for once.
“He’s a friend of my wife’s.” Zayn told him. “Well, a friend of a friend of my wife’s.” Zayn paused. “It’s complicated.”
“Tell me about it.” The man instructed, resting his ankle on his own thigh and sitting back comfortably.
So... Zayn did. Everything. Everything. Dianna, the miscarriage, his fame, how he and Soph had married... And the man didn’t judge him. No, he simply sat there, listening as the party went on, saying nothing.
“I mean, I just don’t get it. I’m trying to make our relationship stronger, you know?” Zayn sighed, rubbing his nose with both hands. “She’s my wife. I did this so she’d be mine and I thought – I thought that was what she wanted. I’m not an idiot, she can’t just leave me because I’m suddenly not good enough-”
“Has she said that to you?” The man interrupted, his voice impassive. Zayn looked up at him in confusion. “About you being an idiot, or stupid, or not being good enough?”
“Well, no – she doesn’t have to, I know she’s thinking it.” Zayn said quickly, feeling the need to defend himself. The man only nodded and again, Zayn relaxed. “I mean, she’s the perfect wife, right? Way out of my league on a normal day – but it’s like – I mean – I can’t worship her, you know? We’re both on Earth. She was good on paper and we clicked and I was the same and...” Zayn groaned, shaking his head. “She’s just... I amgood enough, you know? I am.”
The man said nothing. He simply watched Zayn for a few moments, almost smiling, like Zayn was such an interesting thing.
“So, show me this wife of yours.” The man instructed kindly, tutting as he sensed Zayn was about to get up. “No, show me her. Just from where we are.”
“Oh, well, she’s just-” Zayn stopped as, scouring the crowd, his eyes fell on Soph – and upon the second of doing so, a string of curse-words left his mouth. “... Fucking unbelievable!”
The man said nothing, following Zayn’s line of vision... And sighing to himself.
“Just jump in with both feet.” Lucky urged excitedly, as Soph stared at her like she was something out of a particularly rubbish episode of Doctor Who. “Come on! Or do you and Tiff not know how to dance?”
Soph snorted, still refusing to move.
“I’m suddenly so thirsty!” Soph exclaimed, shaking her head at the boos from the small crowd that had formed between them. Aman had informed her that Jai had a plan, to help with their Zayn strategy (Aman called it making Zayn jealous; Soph called it annoying him; Aman called it making Zayn jealous and Soph being in denial, which had resulted in him being slapped very hard on the arm, though it hadn’t seemed to have the desired effect) – a very, very stupid plan that had began with Jai demanding a boys versus girls dance-off. Whilst the rest of the party had cheered at something so festive, Tiff, Aman and Soph had all been united in their horror. Even Zara had looked mildly amused, despite keeping her distance from the rest of them.
Soph was just walking away when it happened. And it happened very, very quickly.
The first thing Soph noticed was that her scarf was being yanked. Now, seeming as noticing and registering aren’t the same thing... Well, honestly, Soph didn’t understand fully what had happened until much, much later that evening.
It was a blur. First, the scarf around her neck had been pulled away from her body, the slippery smooth material falling away from her easily, like the traitor it was; then, before she could turn to find the culprit, the scarf was swung over her so it was held from the back, like reins, around her waist; and finally, she was yanked backwards by her own scarf, the horrifyingly obvious outfit on display for the world to see as her back and hips collided with somebody else – a broader someone, the shape of whose hips allowed Soph’s to mould into theirs like jigsaw pieces.
And, like a puppeteer with a string, she had hands on her hips, swaying her body back and forth in time to the music and the body behind her.
It had taken less than a minute for it all to occur. But, somehow, it was happening in slow motion as it did.
“And you and your husband think I don’t have moves.” Aman tutted quietly into Soph’s ear – and she didn’t know if it was the amusement in his voice or the strange burning sensation of his fingers on her skin, despite the thin material, that made Soph feel as if she were being burned alive.
And just like that, he un-spun her again – but not before throwing her scarf around his neck and bowing as Bee, Jai, Lucky and even Tiff, whistled and hooted in encouragement.
“I’d offer this back to you,” Aman grinned over the noise, lifting her scarf around his neck. “But it-”
“Looks so much better on you.” Soph finished, shaking her head and being unable to stop her laughter. Clearly, today she was hysterical. Without even hesitating at the prospect of more contact, Soph used both hands to shove Aman in the chest as hard as she could. “Who even are you?!”
“I’m-” Aman began, but stopped, seeing something behind her. “Give me a second, okay?”
Before Soph had a chance to respond, he’d gone.
Zayn was coming at him like an angry bull, shoving his way through the unsuspecting crowd. Aman could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.
“What’s your fucking-” Zayn began, about to shove him and start world war three, when Aman grabbed his arm to stop him.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Aman told him casually, as if he held giant, muscled men in their place all the time. “You were the one that said you didn’t know what competition looked like, right?” Zayn’s jaw clenched in response, aggravation threatening to take over his entire body. Aman smiled serenely. “Well... Now you’re looking at it.”
It was then that three things happened at once. First of all, Zayn shoved Aman away and went to go for him, at the exact time Jai appeared out of nowhere and stood between the two young men squaring up to one another; Bee squealed loudly at something, her hand in Tiff’s, as an elderly man appeared behind Zayn; and thirdly, the man seemingly shoved Zayn out of the way and caused Aman and Jai to freeze in their tracks like naughty children.
Which, essentially, they were.
Only Lucky, Tiff, Bee and Soph stood as witness to what happened next; which was the man suddenly lashing out and slapping his flat palm to first Aman’s cheek and then Jai’s.
“When did you arrive, we didn’t-”
Soph, Tiff and Zayn’s eyes widened. Grandfather.
Zayn felt a weird, embarrassed smugness settle in his chest. At least the grandfather knew what Aman had been doing with his wife.
“You good-for-nothing, low-life-” The Grandfather – Soph could only assume he was grandfather to one of them – spat angrily, angrily continuing for a good few minutes. “You both come home, but you don’t let your family know? Are these the kind of grandsons I’ve been left with?” The Grandfather’s voice was terse with controlled, raging anger. The music, the rest of the party... It was all forgotten, especially to Zayn and Soph. “Other room. Now.”
Jai went to open his mouth, but with one look, remained silent.
“And you four,” Grandfather said calmly, looking at Tiff, Bee, Lucky and Soph. “Can come with us.”
In that moment, despite all of their differences, the NRABC and their colleagues stared at each other in horror. They’d all been living their own lives, running away... And now, they were finally answerable for it.
