Paragon // z.m

13. " I wouldn't dream about it, Mr. Malik."

She woke up the next morning, in the comfort of her own bed, with Harry sitting at the end of it, reading into his private journal. She didn't remember much after crying in front of Zayn in the car, which caused her to groan in embarrassment, turning to bury her face into the pillow.

" Oh, you're up. How are you feeling?" He asked, putting his journal away, and approaching her, laying a tender hand onto her back.

" How did I get here? What happened?" She questioned, her voice muffled into the pillow.

" Zayn drove you here, and I went down and carried you up. Want to tell me what happened?"

" Not necessarily."

" Robin, come on now." He urged, putting his hands beneath her, to flip her onto her back. With reluctance, she allowed him to, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling.

" My date was a dick. He was rude, and he tried like, touching me, and that's when Zayn stepped in."

" Touching you?" His eyebrows furrowed, the soothing movement of his hands coming to a halt.

" He commented on my body, and I threw wine in his face and stood to leave, but he- he grabbed my wrists and he wouldn't let me go."

" Then that's what those are from." He took her hands into his, rubbing his fingers against the purple bruises. She nodded, releasing a long sigh.

" Then how did Zayn get that bruise on his jaw?"

" He has an actual bruise?" She questioned, rising from her sleeping position to fully face Harry, who warily nodded.

" The man tried to stop us when we were about to leave, and he punched Zayn, so Zayn hit him back."

" That's odd though, isn't it?"

" What do you mean?"

" I mean, for someone who's supposed to hate you, he sure went through a lot of trouble for you."

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" Walk with me."

" Wh- okay."

She had been standing in front of his office door for at least fifteen minutes now, her trembling hand barely touching the knob, her breathing erratic at the sound of his voice yelling at God knows what, before he opened the door, and walked away. There had been no secretary to urge her on, which was odd, but not impossible, since he tended to drive them away, before actually being hired.

His steps were fast, determined, and he looked down upon the phone and not at her. She opened her mouth, time and time again, willing the words to escape, but they wouldn't. She didn't know what to say to a man who seemed to be everything and its opposite, all in one. He didn't need her gratitude to know that he had done a good deed, he didn't need her apology, to know that her ugly crying wasn't a sight for him to witness. He seemed to know everything, and she had nothing further to offer.

So, she finally bowed her head down, following him silently, until they were in the garage, standing in front of some kind of exit that she had never seen before. She didn't know he had stopped walking, until she had blindly bumped into him, barely rebalancing herself, before he stared at her with furrowed eyebrows. She whispered a soft "sorry", as he rolled his eyes and looked away, crossing his arms against his chest, and tapping his feet impatiently.

" Want to tell me what's going on here?" Zayn asked. Security guards were holding a man's arms. He had dirty blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. He didn't look like anyone she had seen there before. Quite honestly, he didn't seem like anyone she'd picture working there.