Taking Chances

Sighing, I moved the dress in front of me down the rack, not even reacting to the scraping noise that screeched through my head.

“You don’t look like you’re feeling any better,” Rebecca observed.

“Usually shopping works,” I admitted, “but it’s not this time around. It’s annoying.”

She gave me a sympathetic look before nodding toward the door. “Come on. I know what will cheer you up a little bit.”

“I bet it won’t work,” I warned her, but she was already walking away, halfway to the door.

We stepped out into the freezing winter air of London, my eyes struggling to adjust to the new darkness after the fluorescent lights inside the store. All day, the only things we’d accomplished were wandering around, trying to shop for clothes without success, and looking for books with success. Not that I wanted to read any of them, since they’d all be about beautiful couples. Something that I was no longer a part of.

A few minutes later, Rebecca pulled me into a restaurant-type thing. “I saw this when we walked by it earlier, and I know it’s exactly what you need.”

My eyes were narrowed as I scanned the place, finally landing on the menu. Ice cream.

“I told you,” I whined as she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the counter, “I’m not an emotional eater.”

“Oh, you’re going to eat ice cream,” she corrected. “You know why? Because you love ice cream. And it’s basically the go-to food for heartbreak. So you’re going to eat it.”

I let out a laugh and caved. “Fine, fine. Want me to order for you?”

She gave me a sheepish smile before saying neutrally, “If you want to.”

Which was her way of saying yes. Chuckling, I asked, “What do you want?”

“Whatever you get.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, “I hate your indecision.”

She shrugged, not offering anything else toward my dilemma, so I turned my attention to the menu, squinting to try to read the small print.

“Can I help you?” a clipped British accent cut through my concentration.

I smiled at the short blonde girl behind the counter. “Um, yeah. Could we get two small chocolate brownie ice creams, please?”

“Sure,” she responded. I expected her to turn around and get us the food, but she just stared at me instead. “Sorry, this might be weird, but…are you Bailey Austin?”

I felt my face heat up. Of all the times to get recognized, it had to be after a fight with Zayn? When I was wearing no makeup and my eyes were all red and puffy from crying? But instead of showing my discontent, I grinned. “Yeah, I am.”

“What are you doing in London?” she questioned.

“Oh, just traveling,” I covered seamlessly, knowing very well that I couldn’t talk about my looming record label contract. Especially when nothing was finalized yet. “I’ve always wanted to go to England.”

“That’s incredible,” she smiled. “So,” she leaned forward and raised her eyebrows, “are you and Zayn Malik back together? Because there were pictures of you two going to the club from a couple days back in the newspaper this morning.”

I gulped and struggled for something to say. Something smooth that wouldn’t be admitting our romance to the public again, but still indifferent enough to sound like I wasn’t lying. Finally, I burst out, “Could we have our ice creams, please?”

The girl looked a little hurt as she shrank back down. “Yeah, one minute.”

Once she turned her back, Rebecca started laughing hard at me, the fit punctuated by a single, adorable snort. “Oh my God, Bailey! You’re so awkward!”

I just grumbled under my breath and tried to hide my blush with my hair.

A minute later, the girl came back, sliding over the cups of ice cream on the counter. “That’ll be two pounds, please.”

I handed over the money and gave her one last smile to make up for the fact that she clearly thought I was trying to get rid of her. Which I kind of was. But I didn’t want to come off that way.

“Have a nice day,” she replied, not looking up at me.

“Thanks, hon. You, too.”

We walked out of the ice cream parlor, and Rebecca laughed at me again. “You were laying it on a little too thickly,” she told me.

“I know,” I sighed as I took a bite of my ice cream. “I just don’t know what to do. Fans should stop recognizing me. And if they recognize me, couldn’t they just ask for a picture or an autograph or something? Do they have to bring up the Zayn thing?”

Rebecca shrugged and started eating her ice cream. “Ooo, this is good.”

“Way to avert the subject,” I snickered, shooting her a look.

She ignored me, her way, I knew, of trying to keep me from thinking about Zayn too much or going off on my tenth tangent of the day.

For a while longer, we walked around, eating our ice creams. The world around us shut down, all workers going home to their families, closing their shops and restaurants for the night.

“What time is it?” Rebecca questioned, observing a couple of young women walking by us, clearly on their way to a club or a bar.

“Um…” I pulled out my phone and checked the time. “Almost eleven.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “We should probably-”

Her voice was cut off by the sound of my ringtone, my favorite song at the moment, Lightning by The Wanted. “I feel like you’re betraying the boys,” Rebecca commented drily.

I rolled my eyes. “They can cry all they want.” I stared back down at the phone, shaking my head as I read the name again. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hey. You’re at the flat, right?”

I turned to Rebecca and rolled my eyes. “Uh…no,” I trailed off, trying not to laugh.

“Then where the hell are you? Nothing’s open this late at night.”

A fast glance around told me that there was stuff open this late, just nowhere Rebecca and I would willingly go to. “Rebecca and I are just walking around the streets. I’m not exactly ready to go back yet.”

His sigh was loud in my ears. “Oh my God,” he whined. “You guys are being ridiculous.”

My eyes narrowed and my pulse picked up a little as a feeling of irritation settled. Who was Harry to start making comments about Zayn’s and my fight? Just because his relationship was fucking perfect didn’t mean that everyone’s was. “Harry,” I snapped, “I really don’t care what you think about our argument. So you can keep your snide comments to yourself. Are we clear?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Rebecca was looking at me like I’d gone completely crazy. Not that I blamed her. “Was there any specific reason why you called?”

“Uh…not really. Just seeing if you were home yet.”

“I’m not,” I answered, not even bothering to address the fact that it was Zayn’s home he was referring to, not my own.

“I got that, thanks.”

There was a long silence, and I ended up laughing, realizing that he was probably slightly uncomfortable talking to me, since he figured that I could unleash on him at any time. “Okay, this is awkward, and Rebecca’s more fun than you. I’m hanging up now.”

“Okay,” he responded, his tone a little relieved, “bye.”

“Bye.”

After hanging up the phone and tucking it into the pocket of my jeans, I told Rebecca what happened on the phone conversation.

“Wait,” Rebecca voiced, sounding like she was on the edge of a breakthrough, “Charlie, the girl that you’re kind of having issues with…isn’t she Harry’s girlfriend?”

“Yup,” I replied, popping my lips on the 'p' as I adjusted the huge bag of books in my hand. “Why?”

“Because I think he called because she wants to talk to you,” she deduced confidently.

A sort of dreading feeling came into my stomach as I stared at my friend.