red hair and a blue hoodie // ed sheeran

Chapter 5 - Feelings and Flashbacks

ZO'S POV:

I had grabbed my bag from the door and left his flat. I was going to get coffee with Ed Sheeran. My inner goddess was telling me to pounce on him but I knew that I had to keep calm. He was so gentle to me. He was so considerate. But he had touched me. He had run his hand down my arm and on my waist. His hands, no matter how small, still managed to touch my inner self and make her smile.

I was now in my bathroom. It always smelt like shower cleaner no matter how many times I washed it out down the drain. With my new clothes in my arms, I dumped them on the edge of the bath and headed towards the shower. I turned on the tap and felt the spritz of water against my wrist before I retracted from the starting cold, waiting for it to heat. Stupid water pipes. As the water started the heating process, I striped off and out of my clothes leaving them in a pile near the door.

With an elastic band I had found near the door, I bent over and tied my hear into a high bun to keep it clear of the water. I then stuck my hand back under the spray of water, and when I found it was to my liking, I stepped into the cubicle and let the water rush down. The hot water burned my skin and left behind a scalding feeling but I still found it calming. I watched the water run down my body and down the drain, washing away the dirt from the previous day and the smell of vanilla that seemed to stick to Ed like a magnet. It must have been incense or something.

By the time I had washed and gotten changed into my skinny jeans and beige and black striped sloppy joe, it had been twenty minutes since I had left Ed’s flat. I let my mind drift to when he had touched me. I can’t deny the fact that I didn’t like it. I mean, it was Ed Sheeran. But why? Why did he touch me like that? Was he experimenting or something? Was he trying to make me feel something? Did he feel something? So many questions ran through my head and I realized it was going to take too much out of me if I kept thinking about it. I forced myself to think about something much simpler. Which shoes do I wear?

After five minutes I had settled on my black flats. I pulled my hair out of its bun and let it tumble down my shoulders. The cold had made it much more tameable. I threw on my favourite black beanie with the pom-pom on the top and headed towards the door, picking up my satchel bag on the way. Closing the door behind me, I headed down the stairs towards the lobby and, out of habit, started singing Ed’s song.

Give a little time to me… We’ll work this out

We will play hide and seek… To turn this around

All that I want… Is the taste that your lips allow

My my, my my, my... Give me love

I couldn’t do that on this date. I couldn’t sing his songs in front of him. I mean, that would just be weird. Did he know I was a fan? Like a mega fan? I couldn’t just flat out tell him. ‘Hey Ed. Yeah so I’m a massive fan of yours. Can I sing you one of your own songs? While you’re at it, rub your hand up my side like before.’ Oh no. Why did I take it in that direction? No. Not acceptable behaviour. I mentally shook myself and stopped singing.

I had reached the floor by this point and I looked around. He was standing by the door and his eyes were already on me before I found him. His eyes were roaming my body. It made me feel uncomfortable. I hated being the centre point of someone’s attention. They were bound to find my imperfections and flaws then. I hated when people pointed out my flaws. I wrapped my hands around my stomach and was hit with a flashback.

“Zo! Get your ass in here!” Dad’s voice called from the living room. I ran down the stairs with a smile on my face. I was in a permanent happy mood, just like every other kid at the age of seven was. I stuck my hands out at my sides and made car noises pretending to be a place. 

“Neeeaaaauuuuuuu!” I roared as I came around the corner and headed towards where my Dad was sitting on the couch. My bright eyes met his and was shown another world of anger. My hands fell to my sides and I stopped in my tracks. Dad wasn’t happy. His face was contorted with anger; frown lines on his forehead, fists clenched, nostrils flaring. His cigarette in his hands was giving off that off smell of pesticides and toilet cleaners. I didn’t want to go to him. He smelt funny. 

“Come here Zo.” His voice was deep and sounded like a voice that would be behind the villain on my Saturday cartoons.

“Please don’t hit me Daddy.” I was scared. He was going to hit me again. He promised me he wouldn’t do it anymore. The first time was the last time. He pinky-promised me. Pinky-promises were serious stuff. 

“I’m not going to hit you Zo! Come here!” He was yelling now. I knew I was in trouble. I raised my hands around my stomach, preparing myself for a blow to the stomach. When I came into reaching distance he reached out with his arm and  grabbed my wrist, pulling it towards him. I was struggling to pull it out of his grasp then. It hurt when he touched me. I hated when he touched me. There was a reason that Mummy  never used to let him come near me when she tucked me in for bed.

“Stop struggling Zo or I will end up hurting you!” He yelled into my face, the stench of alcohol pouring off every word and sinking into my pores.

“You already are hurting me Daddy! Please let me go!” I raised my other hand up to my trapped one and tried to pry his large fingers off mine. My hand was about half the size of his and if he could change the colour of Mum’s hand just be holding it, imagine what he could do to mine if he squeezed a bit harder. Tears rolled down my cheek. “Please let me go Daddy…” I whimpered. “Daddy!” I screamed at him when he still wouldn’t let go.

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” He flipped over my trapped wrist and on the inside of my right palm, pushed his cigarette butt down into the sensitive flesh. The burn didn’t register until after a few seconds. He released me and I fell to the floor, writhing on the floor in agony. 

Cries from my mouth ripped through the house. “Ow ow ow ow ow ow!! Daddy! It hurts Daddy! Make it stop! My hand Daddy!” But from his superior spot on the couch, he took another drag from his smoke and watched me convulse in pain.

“Never yell at me again! Understand me?!” He roared down at me.

Through clenched teeth and tears, I managed to speak out. “Okay Daddy."

I shook the memory away. I had clenched my fists at my side.

“You alright love?” Ed was next to me. I opened my eyes to find my vision blurred by tears. “What’s the matter Zo? Talk to me.” He grabbed my clenched hand and held it, trying to prove to me that he wanted to help me. I must look like the biggest weirdo to him. Crying for no reason what so ever. I offered him a tight smile and after sniffling,

“I'll save that tale for another day.” His gaze was too much for me at the moment though. I had to leave. I looked towards the lobby door and looking through the stained glass doors, I found it a busy day. “Sure you want to go out there?” I asked curiously, hoping desperately he would take the bait for a subject change. He turned around, showing me his ginger locks and with a smile on his face he said,

“There’s less chance of me being spotted by paparazzi if I go out when it’s a busy day. The hair gives me away.” He finished with a chuckle. I reached around his head and pulled his iconic blue hoddie over his head.

“There. Now no one will know it’s you.” I had to giggle myself and he gave yet another throaty chuckle. He looked down and offered me his hand to hold.

“Shall we?” I looked down and pulled my sleeves down over my right palm and then offered him my hand.

“Let’s go.”