The Memory Jar [Zayn Malik]

Chapter 20: Hating

So I hope you're all having a lovely day! Personally, I've had a pretty sucky day today... But, I chose to start writing in a free class today and just got on a bit of a role, so I have this chapter done. Whoo! 

My new plan for this story is to finish it before finals, there's only one more chapter left anyways. So that does mean the sequel most likely won't be up until after finals, (aka. after next Friday) just giving you a fair warning.

So that's really all I have to say right now. Thank you all so much for reading and following this story, every single one of you! It means the absolute world to me! :) 

Now excuse me while I go relax in the bath for a bit. :)

 Zayn

         I walk at the pace of those around me on the busy streets of London, keeping my head down. I keep my hood up and the sunglasses on my face, praying that I won't stumble upon any diehard fans that will recognize me easily. 

          There's not much time left. The American tour is coming up any time now, and I don't want to have to go without seeing her again and doing my best to explain.

          I've been searching for her for the past hour now, to no luck. I haven't been brave enough to travel deep into the alleys, for fear of getting lost completely. I don't know how anyone could navigate them, they're unbelievably complex, and it’s like a huge maze. 

          "Sorry," I say as I bump into a girl walking with her friend, and naturally, I reach out to steady her in case she falls.

          But that's the mistake. Her eyes meet mine, and even with the dark sunglasses and hood, I notice the realization spark in her eyes.

            "Oh my God," she breathes, looking as if she's about to hyperventilate. "You're him, you're Zayn Malik! Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening!"

          I begin to shake my head furiously. Convincing her that I'm not really Zayn Malik of One Direction would never work, especially with my easily recognizable accent and tone of voice. So instead I try to shush her, putting my hands out warningly.

          But the girl is beyond listening to me now. She's alerted her friend, who also is not staring with wide eyes before she shrieks at the top or her lungs, "It's Zayn Malik from One Direction!"

           Shit.

         The six words create absolute chaos as every head turns, and half of them, if not more, know exactly who I am.

          Girls instantly begin weaving and shoving through the crowd in excitement, and they're drawing as quickly as moths to a flame.

         Why do I have to be the flame, God why?

        I know I really don't have much time now, so I take off running at full speed. I squeeze past a small cluster of girls who, thankfully, aren't bold enough to try and grab for me. 

          As I tear down the street, my hood slips off my head and I naturally rip the sunglasses off and put them in my coat pocket. There's no point now, with the hoard of girls running after me, all screaming, "Zayn! Zayn!"

           I haven't been caught up in a lot of mobs like this; I tend not to make a habit of wandering about busy cities without telling anyone. And whenever I do, I'm usually better about not getting caught.

         'Where can I go, where can I go?' I think desperately, mind racing as I continue quickly down the street. When I glance back, the girls are further behind, but not by much, some of them are pretty damn fast.