Pretend It's Ok

"Where's Zayn? Where's Melinda? Where's Louis?", she asked hyperventilating and pacing nervously. "HARRY!!", she screamed causing every model in the room to turn their attention towards her as her scream echoed throughout the room. Gharram stayed staring at her reflection in the mirror angry.

"Hey Gramz.", he said sipping on his water bottle calmly.

Gharram turned to him slowly, "Where were you?"

Harry finished his bottle of water tossing it in the trash, "In the hallway talking to Cara..."

Gharram rolled her eyes turning back to her reflection fixing her eyeliner, "Well, I need you to stay here. You moving around is making me nervous."

"Relax Gramzbam...", he said with a sigh.

"Don't tell me to relax, Styles!!", she half-screamed her head tilted up towards him. "This is a big week for me.", she pointed her finger at him. Gharram turned back to the mirror grabbing the kabuki brush. She huffed with frustration getting ready to launch the brush at the mirror.

Just when she was about to release with force, Harry grabbed her hand. "Gharram.", his deep voice rang in her ear taking the back of her hand in his - Harry's hands far more huger than her's. His hands engulfed Gharram's. He slowly placed the brush on the vanity and placed her hand in her lap. "Relax...", he rubbed her shoulders easing the tense muscles.

Gharram rested back against the chair closing her eyes. She took in the relaxing movements of his enormous hands her head tilting back onto where his chest met his abdomen - Harry towered over her much smaller frame. She could feel the tiny muscles in his hands work every part of her.

Harry stayed fixated on her facial expression through the mirror. Her eyes closed in her serene atmosphere. This side of Gharram was rarely found. He was so use to seeing her drunk and under strobe lights, that he hadn't really taken the time to acknowledge her real beauty.

Harry lowered his gaze to her lips. They had been coated with a nude color making them seem more plump than usual. Gharram's lashes were long and curly causing a dark shadow on the apples of her cheeks. Her beautiful dark hair had been tied in high ponytail with a small bump on the top of her head. Harry wanted so bad to run his fingers through her hair.

Harry noticed her chest rise and fall with a steady pace. His massage was doing it's work.

Gharram would occasionally lay her head on Harry's lap some days when she was too lazy to get up from her late night partying. He would lend a hand knowing how well his best friend's insides felt at those times. Harry would be just as queasy, but figured to just swallow it and be there for her instead.

Deep down Harry liked Gharram. He liked her a lot. He tried his best to keep the feeling locked up in a safe place, but it always found a way of creeping back. Harry couldn't help it. Gharram was someone he could relate to easily. He enjoyed the sight of her happy. Harry would do almost anything to her infectious laugh. Some days - if Gharram was in a happier mood -, he would sit down and listen to her sing some songs in her native Indian language.

But that had been a rare occasion.

Harry never understood why.

The thing with Gharram was, she couldn't be shown as weak. She felt as though if someone had gotten the glimpse of her soft side, that they would use it against her. To Gharram, everyone was an enemy. She always had the feeling in her. No one could blame her (not even Melinda). Each one of her friends had hurt in some way or another. Everyone of them except Melinda and Harry...

Was it fair? No, but this wall would never fall no matter how many times she tried pushing it down. Gharram had tried, but her brain refused to let her let people in. Melinda was the closest person to her and even she didn't know everything about Gharram.

Harry wished he knew what went on in Gharram's mind. Maybe if he could just know small portions, he would be able to change her mind about having him as more than a friend.

"Harry, you always know what to do...", Gharram's raspy voice broke him out of his chance. Boy, was that a nice sound to mentally wake up to. "Thank you. You're truly an angel when you're not being yourself."

"Ha ha.", he sarcastically laughed at her truthful statement. "I'm always here to help.", Harry gave her a light squeeze.

"Gharram.", another voice sounded from across the stage. Both of them turned to see a shorter man than Harry - everyone seemed smaller next to him - with round glasses appear from the suede curtains with a clipboard. "They need you next."

"Okay..", she smiled at him. "Thanks again, Harry.", Gharram hopped off the chair fixing her robe. She stood there in silence fixing herself wiping the bottom of her lip in case of any smeared lipstick. Harry coughed awkwardly. Gharram looked up at his tall frame, "What?"

"Take it off.", he said with a grin and hands clasped together.

Gharram was taken aback, "You can go outside, sit and wait for me to walk down the runway just like everyone else."

Harry pouted reeling her in desperately, "Please."

She pushed pass him rolling her eyes, "No, Harry." Gharram turned to him with narrowed eyebrows, "Don't give me those eyes either!"

"Then how about...", he placed his hand on the small of her back pressing her against him. Gharram cringed. Harry always did these little gestures, but lately it had been too much. "...I give you a hand?", he untied the satin pink sash from her waist revealing the colorful undergarments that had been hidden.

"Harry!", she playfully slapped his arm. "Lord, have some decency...", she turned away. Gharram turned her head back towards him again dropping the satin pink robe to her feet winking at him deviously.

Harry stood there frozen staring at her long tanned legs in colorful six inch heels. "Whoa..."

"Don't stare too hard.", she winked walking further to the stage to have the last finishing touches done to her.









Meanwhile with Zayn and Melinda, the house had been hit with a train wreck again. Dirty and clean laundry - clean ones had been folded neatly now destroyed by the harsh throws they had taken - was thrown everywhere. The dishes were piled high in the kitchen. The tan carpet needed to be vacuumed after all the boys - Louis, Niall, Liam and Harry - had been over the night before. The couches were a mess and she seen fingerprint marks on the TV from where she had been standing searching for her dear husband's dress socks.

"MELINDA, WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?!", Zayn yelled from the bathroom as he was sculpting his signature and known quiff.

Melinda searched all over the flat for the black dress socks her husband so desperately desired on his feet. "I'M LOOKING!", she said neatly investigating through the drawers.

"WELL, LOOK FASTER! WE'RE LATE!!", his voice echoed into their bedroom. Or rather, Melinda's.

Everything had been normal - in Melinda and Zayn's case, that is. Sleepless and restless nights for Melinda on account of the constant absence from Zayn. She would always wait up and he would arrive late as per usual. Why is it that he stay out so late? Who did he go to see every night? Was it possible that Zayn might've been seeing someone else? No, couldn't have been. If it was the case, the paps would never let it slip. Everyone had been waiting for Zayn to mess up the marriage and still nothing yet. She hoped nothing would.

Melinda never once speculated that Zayn had cheated on her. She would feel a bit insecure at times, but never would she imagine he being the cheating type.

Sometimes she couldn't tell if he was intoxicated or not. Melinda, in the back of her mind, knew that Zayn wouldn't go back to those days. He had told her that he never touched a bottle with the words 'alcohol' written on the label since his teen years.

Nonetheless, Zayn would grow impatient little by little. It seemed as though he wouldn't care about anything or anyone. He just felt it was needed to arouse Melinda when necessary and leave. Pleasing Melinda use to be something Zayn enjoyed and wanted to do. Melinda could feel it as well. Her excitement faded each day as his touch felt more emotionless and less careful like it had been before. Now it seemed like everything was done by force. Like Zayn had to do this stuff.

Melinda could sense the distance increase between them and she didn't like it one bit.

How is it that he had been so close to her almost every moment of everyday and so distant at the heart?

Melinda noticed a change, but she felt that she needed to keep it to herself. She knew that it would spark an argument between them. Another argument. Zayn and her had been getting into many disagreements lately. Or rather, Zayn had been yelling about nothing and everything to her. Melinda would just sit there and take it as if it would be some sort of punishment. Zayn wouldn't apologize, but she suspected that there wasn't one needed and that every marriage went through these quarrels.

It had been stress, yes, but isn't that what the sex was for? To relieve stress?

"MELINDA, DAMMIT, WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?", he screamed again walking out the bathroom.

"I'm trying to find them.", Melinda walked over to the closet opening the door. She got on her hands and knees rummaging through boxes and such. "Where did you put them last?"

"You do the laundry. How am I suppose to know?", he sat on the edge of the bed throwing his shirt over his head.

Melinda closed the door to her closest. She had been wearing a knee-length black sequenced dress. Lately, all she had been seen in was black. She felt self-conscious for no apparent reason at all. Melinda hadn't gained weight, its just that she hadn't had much confidence. Zayn use to touch her and compliment her constantly with inappropriate comments and regular ones as well.

He use to shower with a great amount of security with her looks. Everything changed and he stopped. Melinda lowered her gaze and remained quiet.

She felt...ugly.

"Well, last time I checked the socks were in the sock drawer.", she pointed to the bottom drawer near the bed. "Did you check there?", she sighed in annoyance and exhaustion.

Zayn stared up to her with furrowed eyebrows, "Yeah. They're not there." He grunted searching through the other drawers, "Where? I don't see them."

"Baby, I put them in the sock drawer.", Melinda rolled her eyes checking her reflection. 'Hideous', she thought to herself.

"I don't see shit, Melinda.", his voice raised. "Everything is disorganized in here.", Zayn turned towards her yelling. "Look at this room! Do you see this? Don't get me started on the living room and kitchen."

"Well, Zayn you didn't give me much time to tidy up now did you?", she continued calmly. Melinda added concealer under her eyes attempting to cover the semi-visible dark circles.

Zayn huffed with a dark chuckle, "Excuse me?" His face was now facing her's, "How is it my fault?"

"With your little sock dilemma.", she walked over to where he was standing snapping the container of concealer closed placing it in her purse. "And I told you its in the sock drawer.", Melinda opened the drawer near the bed revealing a row of black and navy blue dress socks. She took out a pair handing them to her distraught husband. "Maybe if you listened and paid attention, we would've been outta here faster.", she handed him the socks.

"Maybe if you did something right, we wouldn't have these issues.", he retorted sitting back down on the bed dressing his feet.

Melinda shot a glare at him quickly and Zayn could feel the intensity of it, "Zayn, please stop kidding yourself. I clean this place spotless and you know that."

"Oh please.", he sighed. "Let's save this for some other time.", he got up fixing his black dress shirt. "I don't have the energy to argue.", Zayn walked over fixing his tie struggling a bit. "Help?", he asked wincing at the struggle.

Melinda grabbed a small stool to give her more height. She placed her hands under the red satin cloth working it under and over. The silence between them made it all awkward. Melinda glanced at his face just to see what he was staring at. Zayn met her gaze for what seemed like hours. The green in his eyes sparkled with the light that use to glisten once upon a time. She could see that he was staring into her's intently.

Zayn licked his lips covering them with moisture. He studied her face. Why had she been caking on so much foundation? He noticed her lips were a bright red. Zayn adored the color on her. He loved the touch of her hands sliding against his torso every now and then when she'd been fixing the tie.

"There...", she said patting down the silk cloth. "Fixed.", she sighed in relief.

Almost stepping down from the stool, Zayn held her in her place. Her breath stopped nearly at her throat as his touch ignited the flame that had been absent for quite some time. He stared down at her with a smirk, "You don't need all this makeup, Melinda." He ran a finger down her cheek, "You're already so beautiful."

And just like that, Melinda fell in love again. She had no idea where that side of Zayn came from, but she hoped it would stay for a longer period of time. Melinda smiled revealing her faint dents on either side of her face. Her gaze fell to the floor and her cheeks reddened with the sudden compliment.

Zayn smirked and lifted her chin to place a small peck on her lips. That one swift movement caused an earthquake to occur deep within the confides of lonesome heart. Little did Zayn know just how much of an effect that one peck had on poor Melinda.

"Come on.", Zayn whispered into her lips sending familiar chills down her spine. "We have to go..."

Notes