Making Headlines
Chapter 1: "It's My Middle Name"
December 20th, 2012
12:00 pm
London, England Emerson Gray
I admit that walking through the mall right before Christmas probably wasn’t the best idea for me. I shakily walked down the large complex full of stores. Christmas music was faintly playing over the speakers and everything was covered in red and green with accents of silver and gold. Tinsel was coating anything that wasn’t disguised in plastic reefs, and the cinnamon candle scent was burning my nose. Women were shopping for their children and husbands; men for their wives or girlfriends. There were middle aged women trying to figure out if getting the diet cook book would offend their daughter-in-law and younger women debated on getting their mother-in-law a regular cook book with recipes that tasted good. Children, tugging on their parent’s coat sleeve with grins on their faces, scampered to the toy store or the center of the crowded plaza. Then, in the middle of it all, sat an old man claiming to be Santa.
I hated it for the same reason I should have loved it. It was all sickly sweet and family oriented. My worn converse made nearly silent thuds on the ground and I pulled the sleeves of my flannel shirt lower down my arms, gripping them between my fingers and my palms. Eventually, a different scent drifted to my nose. Chocolate. I fished the two pounds that I had found in the mall parking lot out of my pocket and made a beeline for the kiosk.
I sat down at a small table in the back of the food court with my hot chocolate. I stared down at the marshmallows floating around in the steaming hot beverage wishing I could just disappear. I knew very well that depression and suicide sky rocketed during the Christmas season and I was no exception.
I saw all the families, happy and laughing and I was so envious. I wish I had that. I desperately want that. “Isn’t that the girl who…” A small voice near me trailed off.
“Don’t get too close, honey, she may be unstable,” The mother ushered her teenage girl way from my table. Tear immediately stung my eyes. I should have known. Of course people would recognize me; it’s only been a year.
I guess with London being as big of a city as it is, I figured that people would have forgotten the horrible event that had literally made international news. The headlines flashed in my mind again. Oil tycoon, Walker Steele, shot his wife and son, before killing himself after news of his Ponzi scheme broke. No word on the condition of his eldest daughter, Emerson Gray Steele.
I was just 17 when it happened, so not only was the family money gone and I wasn’t able to buy myself a flat, but I was stuck at a foster home with horrible parents. They agreed to let me stay until I was 19. With my birthday rapidly approaching, I didn’t have anywhere to go; I didn’t even have a job. No person in their right mind would dare hire a person that survived a double homicide/suicide or spent time in the psych ward.
“Excuse me, miss, did you drop this?” I looked up to meet a pair of honey eyes belonging to a guy so beautiful; he seemed to be a figment of my imagination. His cheek bones were perfect, though at first glance everything about him looked perfect. The bone structure on this boy’s face was stellar enough to make girls weep. He had scruff lining his jawline, telling me he needed a shave, though he looked wonderful without shaving. His black hair was perfectly messy, and in his hand he held a necklace.
My eyes widened and my hands flew to my neck, “Yes! Thank you so much for finding it!” I smiled gratefully and took the necklace. It was an old necklace that had a diamond heart on it—my mother’s. I looked back up at him with a smile and I remembered where I had seen his face. Of course I knew who he was, my foster parents never let me use the computer or watch TV, but his face along with 4 others was all over the place. I’d heard his music before, and one of the girls at my foster home was in love with them, posters all over the room.
“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the seat across from me. “Oh, sure.” He smiled and sat down, pulling a beanie over his head. “Sorry, just last minute Christmas shopping. I’m Zayn by the way,” He smiled. “I’m Gray,” I replied.
“That’s an interesting name. I like it,” He complimented. “Thanks, it’s actually my middle name,” I told him. “What’s your first name?” He asked. I hated this part of conversations with new people. Once they hear my first name, they automatically realize who I am and go running for the hills. With nothing else to lose, I told him my name, “Emerson.” His eyes widened ever so slightly. Not enough for people to notice if they hadn’t been watching.
“Um, by any chance…” He trailed off, not sure how to quite phrase the question eating away at his brain. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m Emerson Steele.” The reaction that I had expected, was not the reaction that I had received. “I’m sorry for you loss. It must be hard at this time of year, huh?” He said. I looked straight into his eyes, noting not a single trace of pity or sympathy, or even fear, just sincerity. “It’s really hard this time of year, but then again, every day is pretty hard.” I didn’t really know what to do with my hands so I just kept them wrapped around the half-empty cup of hot chocolate. Wow, even in my thoughts I’m a pessimist.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why did he do it?” He asked gently, staring intently at me with his golden eyes. I shook my head, staring at the marshmallows again, “I wish I knew. He probably couldn’t live with the shame of shuffling money, over 1 trillion dollars. That could have fixed the deficit in America,” I shook my head, “I’ve never been so….disgusted,” I stopped myself. I probably shouldn’t be saying all this to a stranger.
“Damn, do you know how many shoes that could have bought?” He pondered. I smiled, a real genuine smile, the first one in a really long time. “You have a nice smile,” Zayn said. I blushed and looked up at the ceiling, “Thank you.”
We sat at the table, making casual small talk, getting to know each other. He kept his head down or his hand near his face so he wouldn’t be mobbed by adolescent girls.
“So do you need a ride home?” Zayn asked. Yes. “No,” I said. He gave me a pointed look and crossed his arms, “Okay, yeah, actually a ride would be fantastic,” I gave in. He chuckled, “Come on.” I followed him down the large corridor where people were still bustling to find the perfect gift. “Do you have a coat?” Zayn asked as we neared the exit. I shook my head, still analyzing the people going crazy in stores. “Here,” He whispered, handing me his leather jacket. “Oh, no, I can’t ta-“
“Take it,” He said sternly. I complied and pulled the jacket on me. It was a tad big, but not too big. It smelt of cologne and a bit of smoke. We got to his car and he opened the door for me. “Where to?” He asked, turning on the car. I gave him my address and he nodded. “What kind of music do you like?” He asked, fumbling with the radio. I shrugged, “My foster mom doesn’t play music, so I don’t know what’s new. My mom played The Beetles a lot though.”
“I love The Beetles,” Zayn grinned, his smile so contagious, the corners of my lips tugged up into a faint smile. “When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness, she’s standing right in front of me speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be…” Zayn’s strangely angelic voice lulled me to sleep.
***
“Gray,” A voice said. “Gray?” They started shaking my shoulder. I groaned and slapped their and away, turning my head. “Emerson!” The person shouted. I let out another groan and opened my eyes, my face a mere 6 centimeters from Zayn’s. My insides turned to mush and my heart beat rapidly in my chest. “We’re here.” He looked between my eyes and cleared his throat, sitting back in his seat. He looked around the neighborhood.
“Are you sure this is safe,” He asked, staring at the graffiti and the shitty shacks people called home. I shrugged, “Not really. But not much has happened in the time I’ve been here,” I responded. I pulled off his leather jacket and hung it over the seat, “Thank you for the ride and finding my necklace,” I mumbled.
“Keep the jacket,” He insisted. I shook my head, if there’s one thing I despise as much as pity, it’s being a charity case. “No, I have a jacket, I just forgot it,” I lied. He didn’t need to know about my below sufficient living conditions. He just stared at me, his honey gaze making me want to squirm. I just stared at him back.
Zayn sighed. “Fine. Do you have a phone?” He asked. “No, but you could probably reach me on the house phone,” I answered. He handed me his black iPhone and I entered the number. “Calling at night or really early would probably be best,” I told him, knowing that my foster parents would either be out or passed out. He nodded and smiled a bit, “How old are you?” He asked. A small frown appeared on my face. “18. I’ll be 19 on the 1st.”
“You seem older,” He commented. I nodded, “I know.” His eyes searched my face for a few more seconds. It was unnerving. It’s as if he was analyzing every feature on my face, the slight bags under my eyes, way my mouth frowns permanently. It was unsettling.
“Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” I said slowly. He snapped out of the trance that he seemed to be in and smiled, “I’ll call you.” I smiled slightly at him and exited the car, the cold London winter air engulfing me.
Zayn Jawaad
I watched as Gray walked into her house, making sure she got in safely. I pulled away a few minutes after she entered the building. As I drove down the busy streets of London, her hazel eyes seemed to imprint themselves in my brain.
I thought back to a year ago, remembering the reports, saying that the eldest child of Walker Steele was admitted to a psych ward after rumored attempts of suicide. I didn’t know how much of that was true, if any of it was. It was just the stuff that had been on the news, things that I barely paid attention to because I had been so busy.
Emerson Gray Steele definitely grabbed my attention. At first glance, she looked normal. But sitting there, talking to her, she was different. And I realise that 99% of guys say that about all the girls they meet, but Gray really is different. Her ability to stand up and stare life in the face, challenging it to throw more curveballs at her was…appealing.
I shook my head, I’m getting caught up on a girl that I barely know and met literally an hour ago. I sighed heavily as I parked my car. I got out of my car, grabbed the presents for my sisters, and locked it, walking quickly to the parking garage elevator.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Malik,” Pamela, the older woman who worked at the front desk of my flat complex, said with a smile.
I smiled back, “Hello, Pam!” I headed to the other lift and pressed the number 16. The ride up was fairly short. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door to my penthouse flat, overlooking the city. I wasn’t surprised at all to see all 4 of the boys sitting in my living room, eating my food, watching my TV.
They’re lucky I love them. “Hey boys,” I smiled. “Hi Zayn,” they mumbled. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, walking into the kitchen. “Hey Nialler,” I smiled at the blonde, surfing the computer at my counter.
“Ello, Zayn. Oh, here’s the autograph from Demi that you wanted for Waliyha,” He said handing me a framed picture of Demi Lovato with a personalized message. “Remind me to text her and thank her later,” I said. He nodded and turned his attention back to the computer.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the living room in search of wrapping paper and tape. I sat at the coffee table with my presents and wrapping paper. I looked up at Louis, Liam, and Harry all staring at the telly. “Oh look guys, a Victoria secret model,” I said teasingly.
“WHERE!?” They jumped up. I could hear Niall’s infectious laugh come from the kitchen as he emerged, a beer in his hand. “Bitch,” Louis muttered sitting back down and turning off the TV. “So how was the mall?” Liam asked. I nodded, “Good. I got everything I needed for my family.” The boys and I had already exchanged gifts seeing as how we were each leaving to be with our families in two days and we’re impatient as can be. “Well, everything for my sisters. I can’t exactly wrap a house, so I got a cute little box for the key,” I smiled.
“Dude, are you sure you’re straight?” Harry teased. “Yeah, actually, I am,” I replied. He’s been teasing me ever since my break up with Perrie a few weeks ago. “And I met a girl at the mall.”
“I bet you met a lot of girls at the mall, Zayn Malik of One Direction,” Louis sassed with a smile. “No, like a girl that wasn’t a fan. Like, she didn’t scream my name or anything,” I said.
“What’s her name?” Niall asked. “That’s the thing, you kind of know her. Or know who she is, at least,” I replied. “Who is she?” Liam prodded. “Emerson Steele,” I answered quietly. The room fell silent.
“You mean Walker Steele’s daughter?” Liam asked. I nodded and the boys groaned. “What!?”
“You do this all the time, mate,” Louis said. “Do what?” I demanded. “You find a girl, messed up beyond repair, and you try to fix her, be her hero and then things just end,” Louis answered. “I don’t do that! And since when does having a rough past make you ‘messed up beyond repair’?” I spoke.
“A rough past? Zayn, being abused, losing a family member to cancer, that’s a rough past. But having your father be part of the biggest scandal in English history, make international headlines, shuffle over a trillion dollars over the span of 20 years, finding your parents and brother with a bullet in their heads, being in a mental hospital, that’s 50 shades of fucked up,” Harry shouted.
I jumped up, “First of all, that’s great, quoting 50 Shades of Grey. Second, you don’t even know her! You have no right to judge her like that!”
“My father lost over 10,000 U.S dollars on that Ponzi scheme,” Harry said, standing up to face me. “That has nothing to do with Gray. It was her father! She realises how messed up it is!”
“Gray? Oh so you’re on a nickname basis with the daughter of the most hated man in the U.K now? Wow, Zayn,” Harry sneered. “Hey! Knock it off you two!” Liam reprimanded. Louis pulled me away from Harry. “That’s enough, Haz,” He said.
“Zayn, when you met her, how did you feel?” Niall spoke up. “She’s really a great person. People judge her on her past and they don’t even know her. It’s a shame, really. She’s gorgeous, and when she smiles, which is something she rarely does, it just makes me happy. I don’t think she’s messed up, but I do think that if she isn’t helped soon, she’ll self-destruct.”
The boys looked at me, really looked at me. “Well, I’m happy for you. I wasn’t gonna say anything but I was starting to question your sexuality as well,” Niall joked. I smiled at the Irishman. Louis and Liam chucked but Harry remained still, just staring at me. It was quite unsettling.
12:00 pm
London, England Emerson Gray
I admit that walking through the mall right before Christmas probably wasn’t the best idea for me. I shakily walked down the large complex full of stores. Christmas music was faintly playing over the speakers and everything was covered in red and green with accents of silver and gold. Tinsel was coating anything that wasn’t disguised in plastic reefs, and the cinnamon candle scent was burning my nose. Women were shopping for their children and husbands; men for their wives or girlfriends. There were middle aged women trying to figure out if getting the diet cook book would offend their daughter-in-law and younger women debated on getting their mother-in-law a regular cook book with recipes that tasted good. Children, tugging on their parent’s coat sleeve with grins on their faces, scampered to the toy store or the center of the crowded plaza. Then, in the middle of it all, sat an old man claiming to be Santa.
I hated it for the same reason I should have loved it. It was all sickly sweet and family oriented. My worn converse made nearly silent thuds on the ground and I pulled the sleeves of my flannel shirt lower down my arms, gripping them between my fingers and my palms. Eventually, a different scent drifted to my nose. Chocolate. I fished the two pounds that I had found in the mall parking lot out of my pocket and made a beeline for the kiosk.
I sat down at a small table in the back of the food court with my hot chocolate. I stared down at the marshmallows floating around in the steaming hot beverage wishing I could just disappear. I knew very well that depression and suicide sky rocketed during the Christmas season and I was no exception.
I saw all the families, happy and laughing and I was so envious. I wish I had that. I desperately want that. “Isn’t that the girl who…” A small voice near me trailed off.
“Don’t get too close, honey, she may be unstable,” The mother ushered her teenage girl way from my table. Tear immediately stung my eyes. I should have known. Of course people would recognize me; it’s only been a year.
I guess with London being as big of a city as it is, I figured that people would have forgotten the horrible event that had literally made international news. The headlines flashed in my mind again. Oil tycoon, Walker Steele, shot his wife and son, before killing himself after news of his Ponzi scheme broke. No word on the condition of his eldest daughter, Emerson Gray Steele.
I was just 17 when it happened, so not only was the family money gone and I wasn’t able to buy myself a flat, but I was stuck at a foster home with horrible parents. They agreed to let me stay until I was 19. With my birthday rapidly approaching, I didn’t have anywhere to go; I didn’t even have a job. No person in their right mind would dare hire a person that survived a double homicide/suicide or spent time in the psych ward.
“Excuse me, miss, did you drop this?” I looked up to meet a pair of honey eyes belonging to a guy so beautiful; he seemed to be a figment of my imagination. His cheek bones were perfect, though at first glance everything about him looked perfect. The bone structure on this boy’s face was stellar enough to make girls weep. He had scruff lining his jawline, telling me he needed a shave, though he looked wonderful without shaving. His black hair was perfectly messy, and in his hand he held a necklace.
My eyes widened and my hands flew to my neck, “Yes! Thank you so much for finding it!” I smiled gratefully and took the necklace. It was an old necklace that had a diamond heart on it—my mother’s. I looked back up at him with a smile and I remembered where I had seen his face. Of course I knew who he was, my foster parents never let me use the computer or watch TV, but his face along with 4 others was all over the place. I’d heard his music before, and one of the girls at my foster home was in love with them, posters all over the room.
“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the seat across from me. “Oh, sure.” He smiled and sat down, pulling a beanie over his head. “Sorry, just last minute Christmas shopping. I’m Zayn by the way,” He smiled. “I’m Gray,” I replied.
“That’s an interesting name. I like it,” He complimented. “Thanks, it’s actually my middle name,” I told him. “What’s your first name?” He asked. I hated this part of conversations with new people. Once they hear my first name, they automatically realize who I am and go running for the hills. With nothing else to lose, I told him my name, “Emerson.” His eyes widened ever so slightly. Not enough for people to notice if they hadn’t been watching.
“Um, by any chance…” He trailed off, not sure how to quite phrase the question eating away at his brain. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m Emerson Steele.” The reaction that I had expected, was not the reaction that I had received. “I’m sorry for you loss. It must be hard at this time of year, huh?” He said. I looked straight into his eyes, noting not a single trace of pity or sympathy, or even fear, just sincerity. “It’s really hard this time of year, but then again, every day is pretty hard.” I didn’t really know what to do with my hands so I just kept them wrapped around the half-empty cup of hot chocolate. Wow, even in my thoughts I’m a pessimist.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why did he do it?” He asked gently, staring intently at me with his golden eyes. I shook my head, staring at the marshmallows again, “I wish I knew. He probably couldn’t live with the shame of shuffling money, over 1 trillion dollars. That could have fixed the deficit in America,” I shook my head, “I’ve never been so….disgusted,” I stopped myself. I probably shouldn’t be saying all this to a stranger.
“Damn, do you know how many shoes that could have bought?” He pondered. I smiled, a real genuine smile, the first one in a really long time. “You have a nice smile,” Zayn said. I blushed and looked up at the ceiling, “Thank you.”
We sat at the table, making casual small talk, getting to know each other. He kept his head down or his hand near his face so he wouldn’t be mobbed by adolescent girls.
“So do you need a ride home?” Zayn asked. Yes. “No,” I said. He gave me a pointed look and crossed his arms, “Okay, yeah, actually a ride would be fantastic,” I gave in. He chuckled, “Come on.” I followed him down the large corridor where people were still bustling to find the perfect gift. “Do you have a coat?” Zayn asked as we neared the exit. I shook my head, still analyzing the people going crazy in stores. “Here,” He whispered, handing me his leather jacket. “Oh, no, I can’t ta-“
“Take it,” He said sternly. I complied and pulled the jacket on me. It was a tad big, but not too big. It smelt of cologne and a bit of smoke. We got to his car and he opened the door for me. “Where to?” He asked, turning on the car. I gave him my address and he nodded. “What kind of music do you like?” He asked, fumbling with the radio. I shrugged, “My foster mom doesn’t play music, so I don’t know what’s new. My mom played The Beetles a lot though.”
“I love The Beetles,” Zayn grinned, his smile so contagious, the corners of my lips tugged up into a faint smile. “When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness, she’s standing right in front of me speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be…” Zayn’s strangely angelic voice lulled me to sleep.
***
“Gray,” A voice said. “Gray?” They started shaking my shoulder. I groaned and slapped their and away, turning my head. “Emerson!” The person shouted. I let out another groan and opened my eyes, my face a mere 6 centimeters from Zayn’s. My insides turned to mush and my heart beat rapidly in my chest. “We’re here.” He looked between my eyes and cleared his throat, sitting back in his seat. He looked around the neighborhood.
“Are you sure this is safe,” He asked, staring at the graffiti and the shitty shacks people called home. I shrugged, “Not really. But not much has happened in the time I’ve been here,” I responded. I pulled off his leather jacket and hung it over the seat, “Thank you for the ride and finding my necklace,” I mumbled.
“Keep the jacket,” He insisted. I shook my head, if there’s one thing I despise as much as pity, it’s being a charity case. “No, I have a jacket, I just forgot it,” I lied. He didn’t need to know about my below sufficient living conditions. He just stared at me, his honey gaze making me want to squirm. I just stared at him back.
Zayn sighed. “Fine. Do you have a phone?” He asked. “No, but you could probably reach me on the house phone,” I answered. He handed me his black iPhone and I entered the number. “Calling at night or really early would probably be best,” I told him, knowing that my foster parents would either be out or passed out. He nodded and smiled a bit, “How old are you?” He asked. A small frown appeared on my face. “18. I’ll be 19 on the 1st.”
“You seem older,” He commented. I nodded, “I know.” His eyes searched my face for a few more seconds. It was unnerving. It’s as if he was analyzing every feature on my face, the slight bags under my eyes, way my mouth frowns permanently. It was unsettling.
“Um, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” I said slowly. He snapped out of the trance that he seemed to be in and smiled, “I’ll call you.” I smiled slightly at him and exited the car, the cold London winter air engulfing me.
Zayn Jawaad
I watched as Gray walked into her house, making sure she got in safely. I pulled away a few minutes after she entered the building. As I drove down the busy streets of London, her hazel eyes seemed to imprint themselves in my brain.
I thought back to a year ago, remembering the reports, saying that the eldest child of Walker Steele was admitted to a psych ward after rumored attempts of suicide. I didn’t know how much of that was true, if any of it was. It was just the stuff that had been on the news, things that I barely paid attention to because I had been so busy.
Emerson Gray Steele definitely grabbed my attention. At first glance, she looked normal. But sitting there, talking to her, she was different. And I realise that 99% of guys say that about all the girls they meet, but Gray really is different. Her ability to stand up and stare life in the face, challenging it to throw more curveballs at her was…appealing.
I shook my head, I’m getting caught up on a girl that I barely know and met literally an hour ago. I sighed heavily as I parked my car. I got out of my car, grabbed the presents for my sisters, and locked it, walking quickly to the parking garage elevator.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Malik,” Pamela, the older woman who worked at the front desk of my flat complex, said with a smile.
I smiled back, “Hello, Pam!” I headed to the other lift and pressed the number 16. The ride up was fairly short. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door to my penthouse flat, overlooking the city. I wasn’t surprised at all to see all 4 of the boys sitting in my living room, eating my food, watching my TV.
They’re lucky I love them. “Hey boys,” I smiled. “Hi Zayn,” they mumbled. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, walking into the kitchen. “Hey Nialler,” I smiled at the blonde, surfing the computer at my counter.
“Ello, Zayn. Oh, here’s the autograph from Demi that you wanted for Waliyha,” He said handing me a framed picture of Demi Lovato with a personalized message. “Remind me to text her and thank her later,” I said. He nodded and turned his attention back to the computer.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the living room in search of wrapping paper and tape. I sat at the coffee table with my presents and wrapping paper. I looked up at Louis, Liam, and Harry all staring at the telly. “Oh look guys, a Victoria secret model,” I said teasingly.
“WHERE!?” They jumped up. I could hear Niall’s infectious laugh come from the kitchen as he emerged, a beer in his hand. “Bitch,” Louis muttered sitting back down and turning off the TV. “So how was the mall?” Liam asked. I nodded, “Good. I got everything I needed for my family.” The boys and I had already exchanged gifts seeing as how we were each leaving to be with our families in two days and we’re impatient as can be. “Well, everything for my sisters. I can’t exactly wrap a house, so I got a cute little box for the key,” I smiled.
“Dude, are you sure you’re straight?” Harry teased. “Yeah, actually, I am,” I replied. He’s been teasing me ever since my break up with Perrie a few weeks ago. “And I met a girl at the mall.”
“I bet you met a lot of girls at the mall, Zayn Malik of One Direction,” Louis sassed with a smile. “No, like a girl that wasn’t a fan. Like, she didn’t scream my name or anything,” I said.
“What’s her name?” Niall asked. “That’s the thing, you kind of know her. Or know who she is, at least,” I replied. “Who is she?” Liam prodded. “Emerson Steele,” I answered quietly. The room fell silent.
“You mean Walker Steele’s daughter?” Liam asked. I nodded and the boys groaned. “What!?”
“You do this all the time, mate,” Louis said. “Do what?” I demanded. “You find a girl, messed up beyond repair, and you try to fix her, be her hero and then things just end,” Louis answered. “I don’t do that! And since when does having a rough past make you ‘messed up beyond repair’?” I spoke.
“A rough past? Zayn, being abused, losing a family member to cancer, that’s a rough past. But having your father be part of the biggest scandal in English history, make international headlines, shuffle over a trillion dollars over the span of 20 years, finding your parents and brother with a bullet in their heads, being in a mental hospital, that’s 50 shades of fucked up,” Harry shouted.
I jumped up, “First of all, that’s great, quoting 50 Shades of Grey. Second, you don’t even know her! You have no right to judge her like that!”
“My father lost over 10,000 U.S dollars on that Ponzi scheme,” Harry said, standing up to face me. “That has nothing to do with Gray. It was her father! She realises how messed up it is!”
“Gray? Oh so you’re on a nickname basis with the daughter of the most hated man in the U.K now? Wow, Zayn,” Harry sneered. “Hey! Knock it off you two!” Liam reprimanded. Louis pulled me away from Harry. “That’s enough, Haz,” He said.
“Zayn, when you met her, how did you feel?” Niall spoke up. “She’s really a great person. People judge her on her past and they don’t even know her. It’s a shame, really. She’s gorgeous, and when she smiles, which is something she rarely does, it just makes me happy. I don’t think she’s messed up, but I do think that if she isn’t helped soon, she’ll self-destruct.”
The boys looked at me, really looked at me. “Well, I’m happy for you. I wasn’t gonna say anything but I was starting to question your sexuality as well,” Niall joked. I smiled at the Irishman. Louis and Liam chucked but Harry remained still, just staring at me. It was quite unsettling.
10/9/13