𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

25!

Chapter 25

Sitting in the backseat of Sutton's car, I'm looking out at the city nightlife that's only beginning. The sun has set as Zayn drives his girlfriend's car through downtown. I observe the people outside of a restaurant as we're stuck at a red traffic light. Many stand around, possibly waiting for their table, but it's a couple that catches my attention. I watch innocent PDA as a woman nuzzles her face into a man's neck. He's holding her tight as her arms are wrapped around his body, tucked underneath his jacket. She's probably cold, but he's warming her up with his palms, creating friction with strokes against her back.

As I watch them, I'm reminded of him. He used to hold me in the cold, too. He would also let me wear his favorite yellow university hoodie and kiss my nose if it got too red. I was in love with the man, but truly I was blind.

I want to punch Matthew's stupid face in.

The car moves again when the light turns green and the couple—that prompted my aggressive thoughts—disappears behind us. I'm sipping on a cold brew that Sutton so kindly treated me with. Though, it should've been the other way around. I should've treated Sutton with a coffee when she helped me pack my belongings. I should've treated Zayn with coffee, too, for offering me a place to stay tonight.

However, they didn't let me pay. They waved me off and it didn't help that we were in a Starbucks drive-thru.

"Butterfly, you alright back there? You're quiet," says Sutton after a while. She lowers the volume of whatever was playing on the radio to check up on me.

I look ahead and see Sutton hang an arm over the headrest of her seat. She's putting her hand out for me, wiggling her fingers as an implicit plea for me to hold her hand. I reach out with a smile, sliding my palm into hers. "I'm alright," I assure. "Sorry, I've just been thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?" She keeps her hand in mine.

I laugh a little, squeezing her hand before letting it go. My hand falls back onto my lap. "I mean, is it so wrong that I want to move out? It doesn't mean I don't believe her..."

"Okay, can I be honest?"

"Of course you can."

"I don't like her," Sutton says with a short laugh. "Her vibe is so off. Maybe it's the trauma, but she should've given you a break."

"Wait," Zayn interrupts as he's driving. "Who are we talking about?"

"August," I inform Zayn. "You know, my friend."

He nods when he's reminded of her.

After taking a sip of my iced coffee through my green straw, I hum and then say, "I know how she gets sometimes. Which is exactly why I'm giving her some space and a bit of time to cool off. Usually, we're pretty good at talking our issues out."

Sutton hums. I watch her look at Zayn, exchanging a glance with him. "Right, well... I truly hope it works out for-" She then pauses in the midst of her sentence. "What the fuck?"

Zayn has slowed down as he drives through a neighborhood. It takes me a second to recognize we've arrived at their neighborhood. It was hardly recognizable because it's been vandalized with graffiti.

Brick walls and fences all around are coated in spray canned paint. I look at it all—the vandalism. I couldn't decipher what's been graffitied on the walls, but it's all the same.

"Babe?" Sutton calls for Zayn and they exchange another look.

"Yeah, I know," he mumbles.

I look at Zayn, attempting to read him but there isn't enough light for me to see his face. The soft glow from the nearest lamppost wasn't enough, but I can tell this doesn't mean something good.