Your Creation • Zarry

76. Curse

Gigi just stared at me wide eyed, like a deer in headlights, as I stood there with my feet cemented to the ground like a statue, tongue-tied, but I knew I had to come up with something quickly or else this moment was going to become even more awkward.

"What are you doing here?" she broke the silence, stepping out of the elevator.

Wait, was she coming or going? I couldn't tell if she was leaving his place or if she was just exiting the elevator to confront me, but all I felt was an overwhelming sense of nausea bubbling in the pit of my stomach as she looked at me with the most confused expression. She knew exactly who I was, of course, and not just because I was "famous" or anything but considering I not only dated two of her friends, I also was in a band with Zayn for five years and from what I gathered she didn't particularly like me anyway.

"Sorry I'm a little drunk. I was supposed to meet my girlfriend but I guess I'm at the wrong building," I replied, hoping that my answer sounded authentic enough.

"Oh," she said. "Well then yeah, you're in the wrong place because this is where Zayn lives."

"Is it? Shit, I didn't know," I lied. "I'm sorry, I'm gonna go but have a good night," I continued and turned around, walking briskly out of the building entrance and back onto the street, whipping out my phone to call Jeff back. As I dialed his number I turned around to see if Gigi was leaving behind me but she wasn't. Well, it looks like she was on her way to see him and not leaving...at three in the morning. Wonderful.

"Yeah?" Jeff asked, answering the phone.

"You need to turn around and come get me."

"What happened?"

"Just come get me please."

"Okay, be there in two minutes."

"That's quick," I said.

"Well I had a feeling you were going to call so I waited around the corner."

"I love you," I said.

There was no greater man than Jeff Azoff and I hope that someone puts that on my tombstone when I die. Jeff pulled up to the building in exactly two minutes and I climbed in the backseat, my head falling into Xander's lap as I groaned.

"What happened?" he asked, looking down at the pathetic excuse for a man that I was.

"I ran into Gigi."

"Oh Jesus..." Xander responded, trailing off as he began comforting me by rubbing my back.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea H," Jeff spoke as he drove through the New York City traffic back to our hotel. "How bad is it? What do you need me to do?"

"I just told her I had the wrong building and left," I replied. "It's not bad I don't think but I don't know, ask me tomorrow."

As far as most people were concerned everybody thought that not only were Zayn and I not friends, but we were never really close and had no relationship with each other, so if Gigi didn't buy my story then I already knew that I had exposed what Zayn said to be a lie and I was afraid that I had just messed things up for him and he'd be mad at me, which was the last thing that I wanted. I'm such an idiot sometimes.

Once we got back to the hotel room I stripped down and crawled into bed, yanking the covers over my head and hoping that I would pass out soon so that I didn't have to think about what just happened, but I laid awake for awhile instead, consumed by my racing, worrisome thoughts and just felt lonely. I looked over at the time and saw that it was now close to 4:30 am and I still hadn't heard from Zayn. Maybe Gigi wouldn't tell him and I'd be in the clear. I hoped that was the case and felt myself finally drift off to sleep.

I also didn't even realize that Camille never came back to the hotel after her night out with friends until I woke up late that next morning and noticed that she wasn't in bed with me. I checked my phone and saw a text message from her, but nothing from Zayn.

Camille: Staying over my friend's apartment tonight. Having a girl's night. I hope you don't mind. Sleep well

I didn't mind at all. I knew that she had a lot of friends and did stuff without me often, so I wasn't bothered by it, even though I did miss her presence beside me. I sighed and sunk my head back into the plush down pillow, not wanting to get up and face the day. Then, I heard a knock on the door shortly afterward.

"Who is it!?" I shouted, feeling lazy.

"It's Jeff."

"Okay hold on!"

I pulled myself together and made my way toward the door, dragging my feet. I let Jeff inside and he had two coffees in his hands, along with a bag of bagels, cream cheese spread, a fruit cup and some yogurt.

"You are my savior," I said, thanking him graciously and taking the coffee and food from his hands, placing them down on the table.

"Listen H," he began while taking a seat and I already knew he was preparing some kind of speech. "You know that I have never judged you for your choices or what you do in your personal life. I never will do that because that's not the kind of person I am, but you really need to think about what it is that you want from life, because I'm not sure if the way that you're going about things is necessarily good for you."

"Okay," I replied, spreading cream cheese on my bagel.

"You have a great girlfriend that we all really like and I know you care about her a lot, but I also know that you don't see a future with her. Do you really think she's going to stick around if this isn't going anywhere?"

"No, probably not..."

"And you love someone else that you can't be in a real relationship with and I've watched you go through this for many years now. You're juggling these two separate things and I just have this feeling that it's not going to end well for anyone involved."

This was very much a Jeffrey Azoff thing to say and admittedly, he was usually right. He was the constant voice of reason, the one person who knew me and everything about my life and the one person that I respected more than anyone else, so hearing him lay this out to me was pretty important. I sighed and sat down, taking a bite of my bagel and letting his words process in my mind.

"I hate love," I said, swallowing and taking a sip of my black coffee.

"No you don't. You love love. Maybe even too much."

"It's a curse."

That's what Zayn once called it anyway and maybe he wasn't wrong.

"Look, tour is over in less than a month and I just want you to really think about your next move here. What's the plan? What do you want to do? Who do you want to be? Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?"

I nodded as he spoke, and then he got up and left me to my thoughts. Jeff had made some points and I knew that I really needed to get my shit together. Maybe I needed some therapy or something. All I had been doing is telling myself that everything was fine, that I was fine, that the way I was operating my life was just how things had to be, that Zayn and I could just keep leading these double lives and that love would conquer all if I just kept hoping and praying, that moments together every now and then were better than nothing at all, but maybe all of this just wasn't enough or maybe it was all going to lead to an inevitable tragedy.

I started packing up my things shortly afterward, getting ready to travel to Washington DC for my show the following day when I received two text messages.

Zayn: Please don't come by my place piss drunk at 3 in the morning Harry when you could have called me. We can't do that anymore, it's reckless and you need to grow up..

Camille: I know I said I'd come to your show in DC but I can't make it. I'm sorry, something came up, but I'll call you later.

Great, I guess no one wanted to be around me. Not even me.