Just Give Up

I got up from my chair, ready to follow him outside. "Sir," I heard Zayn gulp.

My father stuck his hand out, shaking it back and fourth. "There's no need to leave the room, I can just join you." His tone of voice was unrecognizable.

Mad? Mocking? I couldn't decipher it.

I hastily sat back down, along with Zayn. He didn't look confused at all, but he was sweating quite a lot, with a frown on his face. I watched as my father took a seat at the head of the table. When he finally looked up, he had one of the most mischevious grins on his face.

What the fuck are you doing, dad?

I was tempted to say that out loud, but I thought against it.

"Have you read the article, yet?" My father asks, looking at Zayn.

"I did.. Last night, actually.." Zayn replied cautiously.

"What article?" I spoke up, clearly I was being ignored by two sides.

I had no idea of what was going on. Zayn hadn't filled me in on this elusive article, nor was he paying any attention to me at all. My eyes darted back and forth between Zayn and my father. They were sharing knowing looks.

"Dad. What article?" I said a little more loudly.

"So I assume you know what your future options are, am I correct?" my father asked him, ignoring my question.

"Have you talked to my father?" Zayn counteracted, deflecting the question as if it were a ball thrown at him.

"Of course, but let's not change the subject. We both know very well you can't tell the media about your father's company now, am I correct?" If it were possible, my father's smile was growing bigger.

"What are you trying to imply?" Zayn's voice was raising in volume.

I was having a hard time try to follow along while keeping my thoughts intact. I wanted to shout out and ask what the hell was going on. But at the same time, I wanted to listen to them argue. Body guard against Boss. I was enjoying the show in front of me quite a lot.

"If you can't tell them the reason why you quit your little band, then you can't really explain to all your fans what you were doing with my daughter at the mall.." My father emphasized certain words with a sneaky tone.

I had a feeling something wrong was either going to, or about to happen. Where was my father taking this? Was he referring to my head injury at the mall? Or was he referring to something more deeper than the surface. Something I totally missed out on for passing out.

Zayn's face was beginning to contort from an unhappy frown to an ominous expression. "Continue.."

"Submit to the other reason, boy! You know? The part where you're head over heels in love with my daughter, secretly dating behind your group's back?" My father's cheeky voice echoed throughout the dining hall.

I finally understood what was going on. Somebody must have written an article about seeing Zayn at the mall with me. Me fainting. Zayn saving me. My best friends looking like idiots. This was terrible.

Zayn's eyes grew wide with rage. He stood up, almost knocking the chair over with force, but it only wobbled, falling back onto it's four legs. "Why would I do that?" I heard him ask in a haughty voice.

"Did I not already tell you my reasons?" My father cocked his head to the side.

He was enjoying this. Torturing Zayn.

"Isn't there any other way?" I joined the conversation for the first time.

My father turned to look at me, his eyebrows raised in an arch. He had a look that said Do you even know what's going on?. I rolled my eyes in reply.

"Stop interfering with our conversation as if you understand what we're talking about." I heard Zayn scold me, giving me a glare from the corner of his eyes.

What the hell?

One moment he's giving me the cold shoulder, now he's giving me the death stare? I was on his side for heaven's sake. It was my fault he was in that situation, and yet, he was getting mad at me for trying to get him out of it?

"I'm invited to this conference too, you know." I glared back.

"Renee, it's best if you leave the room for now." I heard my father say with a sigh.

"You ask to talk to me, and then you ignore me? Now you're kicking me out of the room for trying to join your stupid fucking conversation? I'm sorry I accepted your invitation when you said you wanted to talk to me. And I'm sorry for thinking that meant us having a conversation. as In we all talking. You-and you too." (I pointed to Zayn as I said this, glaring at them with deep passion.

I get up, kicking my chair away, cursing as I stomp across the room.

Why invite me to talk if you won't even let me say at least one god-damn fucking word.

I hate you, dad.

And I hate you too.

Fucking Zayn Malik.

I hate you for making me feel something different. Something other than anger and sadness. For making me feel important, and then throwing me into the garbage bin the next moment. I'm sorry for thinking our kiss meant something. It probably didn't mean shit to you, right?

I felt tears threatening to fall as I walk out the doorway. Their voices fade with each step I take, the distance between us growing bigger. What did I matter to them? Obviously nothing. It was so easy for my father to send me away. So easy for him to give his responsibilities to everyone else.

To Francis, for acting like a father. To Nina, who sometimes acted like a true best friend I needed at home. Giving me advice when I needed it, cleaning the messes I'd make. My best friends, or what I called Sofia and Mercedes. But as soon as my problems popped up, they didn't.

And Zayn too. Was I that easy to play with, like a miniature doll? Act like a douche bag, then pretend to be okay.. Give me a kiss.. Then ignores me and glares at me.. Was it that fun to play with someone's emotions?

I walked into my bedroom, wiping tears as they fell. But as I did this, more started to seep out.



I watched her throw another one of her fits. She wasn't as furious as she was on the first day, but she was still quite angered at how Mr. Colton was sending her out of the room. I did understand both ways. He wanted to "talk to the both of us" which actually just mean me. Renee was annoyed at how he was ignoring her. Oh wait.

How we were ignoring her.

Maybe I should have filled her in about the article this morning. But the thought slipped right out of my mind. I was busy enjoying our pillow fight instead of worrying about the consequences that I was facing at that very moment. Stupid me for getting distracted.

I watched her stomp out of the room. Her bright red hair flowing behind her freely, making her look like a candle. Her hair acting like the flame, dangerously close from being blown out. I watched her wipe her face. Is she crying? Shit. Look at what you did now!

When I turned back to look at Mr. Colton, he was busy on his phone again.

"So what do you say?" He asked me, not even looking up.

What the fuck are you talking about? "About..?" I replied, confused.

"Admit to the media you're dating my daughter. That that was you two going out on a date. But the date was interrupted because your girlfriend ended up getting jumped by two stupid stalker fan things-whatever you call them." He replied coolly, looking up at me with his piercing blue eyes.

"But sir," I hesitated.

"I'll pay you double. Triple, even. Think of this as doing your father a favor. You're saving his company from the whole world from finding out. And you're saving yourself. Am I right?" He was completely wrong on the last one.

I was saving anyone but myself.

Images of Renee popped up in my head. If I were to agree to that idea, it would be as if I had given up on every freedom I had. The only title my father didn't hold against me was my relationship status. But that was about to change now. In order to save his ass, I was going to once again, give up another part of me.

My freedom. My friends. My social life. My happiness. And now my 'love'.

I shook my head in defeat. "How would you like me to do that?" I heard myself say.

Mr. Colton's eyes lit up as he heard me say this. His face wore the look of an expression that you could easily read-I win.

"Excellent.. Excellent.." He clasped his hands together, making a fist. "Why not broadcast it on your website..thing? Hm? Twizzler, wasn't it?"

I coughed as he said this. For a man who was glued to his cellphone, he clearly did not know a thing about the internet. I bit on my lip, to help control myself from bursting out laughing at his stupidity.

"I believe the website thingy is called Twitter, not Twizzler."

"Same thing." He snorted before waving his mistake off. "Just write it out like you'd normally would. Here," He coughed, preparing his voice.



Back to his original voice, he finishes his sentence with "And then mention some random number of months."

I was seriously going to punch Mr. Colton out if he continued to act like a care-free bastard. I knew it wouldn't be affecting him in any way besides money, but he was treating it as if I were a joke. Lying to the public, now let me make this clear, is not a joke. You can lie to them, but they'll see right through you. Maybe not at the very start, but sometime they'll come to realization that you are lying.

And If I were to really post a tweet, exactly the way he had composed it, my fans could easily and clearly tell it wasn't me writing.

I wanted to speak up to him-to give him a piece of my mind. But before I could, his phone gave off a loud beep. It was an alarm.

"I have to go now, I've got an appointment with the Queen!" He laughed at his own terrible joke. "Do tell Renee-I mean your girlfriend, what we've established here, 'lright? Might want to show her that article as well," With a wink, he strutted out the dining hall.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, hidden underneath the table. They were twitching to hurt someone. But I couldn't. I wasn't allowed to hit anyone, unless they were going to hit Renee.

Speaking of Renee, where was she?