Chapter Nine - Uncomfortable and Exhausting

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            I was ushered by a man with sunglasses and a black wardrobe. I think he had introduced himself as Matt, but I so rushed that I wasn’t quite aware of everything. Just of the blur of people watching to see who was being escorted out of the hotel.

            “There’ll be security at the restaurant, so you’ll be fine,” he assured, but I didn’t really need assurance so I just nodded as we waited for a car to come pick me up. It was of One Direction’s company cars I was told, and that they’d given it to Louis to borrow.

            “Here you are,” were the last words I heard him say as a black range rover came into view, parking outside of the hotel curb.

            Everything happened so fast with the famous. I guess it was because they were busy, but I wasn’t so used to it. I wasn’t used to being thrust into a car with a place to be and time to meet.

            “Oh, um  … hello,” I blurted, realizing after a good half minute that I wasn’t alone in the backseat of the car. “Zayn, right?” I asked in a mumble, eyes darting away from the boy to where my dress was riding up my thigh, my hand quickly fixing that idea.

When I looked back I saw that he had been looking where my hand was previously was, and his cheeks tinged with red when he realized he’d been caught in the act.

            “It’s Zayn,” confirmed, shooting me a smile. “Sorry I hijacked your ride, but my car’s getting a repair and I hadn’t known you were taking this car and-” he rambled, but I just shrugged.

            “I don’t have sharing issues,” I replied, “Though I didn’t play well with others, but I could split the wooden blocks evenly so they could leave me alone.” He nodded his head, slight movement that was easy to miss. “It was a joke,” I added, coughing, “you can, um, laugh if you want to make this situation less awkward.”

            “It wasn’t awkward,” he protested.

            “It is now.”

            “You’re right,” he admitted, but the car ride was becoming a downward spiral. No, it wasn’t a spiral. It was a line, straight down. For a few minutes I wondered why he was being so quiet, and several thoughts ran across my mind, but it came back to one thing. One little thought nagging in my head. It needled its way into my thoughts every time I thought about him watching me, and before I knew it I blurted something that made me flush red.

            “I’m not a stripper, or a prostitute, or anything like that,” I blurted, and I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I haven’t and never will do drugs. I’m not an alcoholic and the only time I had a drink was when I was given champagne on News Years.” I couldn’t stop myself. I just needed to clear everything up. Rid the assumptions he had made of me while I had a chance. “I haven’t always been on the streets, and I don’t regret my decision to run away. I’ve been fine.”

            It was silent. Just for a second. It was a short, shrill second that rang like a glass bell.

            “I’m sorry,” he replied. Simply. He didn’t mean he was sorry for what happened to me, just that he’d been naïve enough to assume all the stereotypes.

            “And you’re forgiven,” I stated, tucking back my hair although it was already perfect. I was just looking for things that would take up the duration of the ride. Pull on my dress; scratch my arm, and then cough. These were all perfectly acceptable things to do.         

            “You look really great in that dress,” he complimented, and I gave him a thanking smile.

            “You look subpar in that shirt,” I admitted, shrugging, and he laughed.

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