Dark Matter (a Harry Styles fanfic)

Power

Waking early the next morning, I turned over, seeing that Zayn had still not returned. Had he been worried about me? Had he wondered if I returned to the hotel alright, or was he perhaps, too intrigued by the red-headed girl to notice? Pangs of sorrow shot through me, but I swore that I would not cry. I had the rest of the tour to survive, and I would likely be needing my tears then. Groaning, I untangled myself from the sheets, deciding that I should go and see if Danielle and Eleanor had returned to their rooms safely.

As I slipped my arms into a hotel provided robe, I heard movement from the other side of the wall, memories of what I had done rushing back to my mind. I began to blush in shame, covering my face with my hands. I was extremely drunk and clearly under the influence of drugs, and so I decided to forget about it, knowing that I wasn't of sound mind the previous night.

Opening the door of my room, I poked my head out into the hallway. Seeing that it was deserted, I stepped out, just as the door to Harry's room swung open. Out came a small blonde haired girl, dashing past me quickly, but still managing to give me a rather pleasant smile.

I watched the blonde girl's retreating back, a frown appearing on my lips as she rounded the corner. Harry was such a whorê sometimes, I thought, letting out a disgusted sound. First Amelia, and now this bint. Who knew what god-awful cesspit he would retrieve his next conquest from. 

I began to make my way down the hallway as well, my head still pounding from the previous night. Things could have turned out very differently if it hadn't been for Harry. Thinking back to the sinister French boy's face, it was likely if not for Harry, I may not have made it back to the hotel at all. An involuntary blush appeared on my cheeks, the hazy memory of my fingers desperately moving against myself rearing its head. Unable to stomach the shame I felt, I pushed the dark thought into the furthest corner of my mind and locked it up with no intention of revisiting it ever again.

"Odette!" Zayn's voice echoed from further down the hallway.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that a grinning Zayn was jogging towards me. With a petulant huff, I snapped my heard forward again, quickening my pace. Just like the last time, Zayn was acting like nothing had happened, like he hadn't betrayed me, humiliated me. Had he even noticed I was gone, nearly attacked by a group of aggressive French boys? Or had he been too preoccupied with ginger minger to give a damn? Part of me wanted to know the answer to my questions, while the other part knew I would self-destruct once I heard them.

"Hey." Zayn emphasized when he reached me, taking hold of my wrist and pulling me towards him. "How are you feeling?" He inquired, his dark eyebrows furrowed with worry. Zayn looked perfect as always, fresh-faced with clear brown eyes in spite of little sleep. I observed his face momentarily, wishing with all of my heart that that I had both the good sense and strength to hate him.

"As if you care." I let out a scoff, disguising my sorrow for anger as I snatched my hand from Zayn's grasp. I could not let Zayn know of the power he truly had over me, of the ability he had to render me mad.

Zayn narrowed his eyes at me, taking a step forward. "What the fück is that supposed to mean?" He cried indignantly, his dark eyes blazing like a pair of smoldering black coals.

"Admit it! You were too busy chatting up that little slüt last night to give a fuck about me." I countered, putting up a formidable front and not allowing myself to give in to Zayn like I had every other time. It was so easy for him to make me feel weak. A crooked grin of flutter of his heavy lashes, and I was doomed. But not this time, I vowed to myself. I would win this time. I would have the power.