You Can Let It Go [ZARRY]

Nineteen

Harry:

On the way back to the office, my phone chimed a text from Taylor.

I’m not coming home tonight. Behave. Not that I need to worry.....

I breathed a sigh of relief and typed out a text to Sylvia.

I’m done for the day. Be in tomorrow as usual.

I didn’t wait for a response but reversed course. Instead of heading back to Styles Pharma, I went to my mercifully empty apartment and headed straight to the shower. But the water wasn’t cold enough.

The shivers that danced over my skin couldn’t defeat the heat that burned in my veins.

Goddamn you, Zayn.

I bent my head into the spray and waited for my body to forget how Zayn looked at me.

How it felt to sit so close to him—close enough for the scent of his shower soap to
mingle with the warmth of his skin.

I watched his mouth eat, his hands use the chopsticks, and I wished....

What? Coach Simon demanded. Just what do you wish those hands and mouth would do?

“Nothing,” I muttered

Nothing was the correct answer.

Zayn was my friend, that’s all. I could have that. I could fucking have a guy friend
and not make it....more.

The damn paparazzi made it more.

~~~~~~

“I think you should see this,” Sylvia said the next day in my office. “I emailed you the link.”

She stood behind me as I opened the link to Seattle Society, a blog whose stories were often reprinted in online newspapers and media sites.

Shit.

I shifted in my chair, feeling Sylvia hovering over me.

Thank God she was behind me and couldn’t see my face.

There were ten photos sprinkled throughout the article of Zayn and me at the Ginger Garden.

The headline blared, Billionaire Bachelor Cozies up to Mystery Man.

“Fuck’s sake,” I breathed.

In every photo, I was practically sitting in Zayn’s lap as I showed him the file folder of opioid data, or as we fought over the bill, laughing or talking, our faces inches apart.

I scanned the article, looking for something that said the paparazzi had an idea of what we’d been discussing. Or a close-up of the file. Nothing. Only salacious gossip and
insinuation.

And where is Taylor Swift? Harry Styles hasn’t been seen with his fiancée in weeks. Has the beautiful ad exec decided to call it
off? Perhaps seeing her man looking so friendly with someone else might make her think twice before committing to a china
pattern.

“It’s bullshit,” I said, shutting my laptop.

“Zayn is an employee. And a friend. That’s it.”

“Do we have a response?” Sylvia asked.

I craned around to glare up at her. “Why would we ever respond to tabloid gossip, Sylvia?”

She recoiled. “No, of course. Got it.”

Sylvia departed and the cold ice in my veins turned hot.