Just Give Up

I slowly made my way back through my room, into my walk-in-closet, his voice still ringing in my head.

"Go get changed, I'll be back in half an hour."

It would have normally taken me half an hour to settle on an outfit, and another for makeup, but I only had thirty minutes for changing. In defeat, I settled for my favorite pair of skinny jeans, black with splattered paint at the hem for design. My father hated anything creative. But I loved it.

Now for a top, that's easy. I pulled my favorite off-the-shoulder top, a bright, firetruck red. Just like my hair, red. Just like my attitude, red, fiery temper. Slipping on a black cardigan to match my jeans, I was practically set. But I couldn't help to stare at my own reflection in the mirror. Without any makeup on, people told me I had looked a lot like my mother, Charlotte.

I had her eyes, they told me. Green like the trees in Hyde Park. And I apparently, also had her facial expression: cold, but a meaning behind it. My parents were both fair-skinned, so I didn't exactly inherit that just by her. But I did have my father's hair. Straight, dark brown hair, that was dyed a perfect red shade. I hated that side of me. I had wanted my mother's golden brown hair, that curled at the tips in beautiful rings.

There was a knock on my door, pulling me back into reality, a world far away from the mirror.

"Renee? Are you ready?" I strained to hear Zayn's voice.

I straightened my posture, changing my facial expression to an unhappy one. I had to make sure no trace of excitement showed on my face. I couldn't let him see that side of me. Never. Not now, at least.

Don't look too excited to spend the day with your hot body guard.

I smirked at that idea. Grabbing my cellphone, wallet and keys of my bed, I hurried out of my room, managing to shuffle on a pair of black flats on my way out. Let the games begin, day one.

Zayn, who was in formal attire half an hour ago, now traded his clothes for casual. Dressed in jeans, a white v-neck and a red varsity jacket, he looked more like a friend, rather than a body-guard. On his face, was a look of unhappiness. Is he unhappy to go to the mall with me?

"Let's go." I managed to say without stuttering, breaking the awkward silence and started to walk in a fast pace, my car keys jingling in hand.

"You're not driving," Zayn called behind me.

He took casual strides, but every four of my footsteps, was only two of his own. I hated being short. While he stood at 5"9, I was merely 5"4 tall. He had longer legs than me.

"Yes I am." I replied defiantly, my pace quickened, turning the corner.

"Your father' told me that you are in no position to drive," He jogged to catch up to me, and within seconds, was right in front of our entrance doors, leaning casually against it. Practically blocking my way. All of it. "Therefor, I will drive."

I scowled at him.

"My father isn't here. So I will drive," I snapped back, trying to shove him aside.

"No."

"Move the fuck out of the way, Zayn."

"Ask politely."

"Will you please move the fuck out of the way, Zayn?" I repeated.

"Try again."

"Just move out of the way!" I screamed.



Ten minutes later, we were on our way to the mall. Where was I? Guess. In the fucking passenger seat, buckled up like a baby. Zayn, sporting a new scratch on his neck, was behind the wheel, his eyes never straying, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gears.

"Where should I park?" He asked after another ten minutes passed.

"Wherever you can, dumb ass." For the first time on the whole drive, he turned to look at me with a dark expression on his face.

"I asked you a civil question, and you call me a dumb ass?"

"Yeah, so?" I rolled my eyes.

We continued to glare at each other, time stopping. And once again, I was engulfed in his eyes. He turned away first, muttering something under his breath.

"What are you saying?" I yelled at him, unbuckling my seat belt.

He glanced one more time in my direction, before shaking his head. No verbal response. This was pissing me the fuck off. Although the parking lot was full, we managed to find a spot near the main entrance. I continued to shout at him inside the car, but he never once flinched. He was unaffected.

We got out of the car in silence. Him, running over to my side, unlocking the door like a gentleman. My seat belt was already unbuckled so I didn't struggle with that. He offered his hand, but I pushed it away.

"I'm not disabled." I muttered, getting out of the vehicle myself.

We walked into the mall. I was ahead of him, looking for Sophia's strawberry blonde hair, or for Mercedes' jet black hair. Neither was in sight. I cursed under my breath. We had planned to meet at 12:30.

"RENEEEEEEEE!" was the last thing I heard before getting tackled to the ground.

Zayn's look of surprise, being the last thing I see before blacking out as my head hits the floor.