Turning Tables

Finley watched in despair as one single teenage girl wrecked their entire date. Zayn had noticed her first, raising her phone and snapping a picture, she assumed. She had smiled and waved at her but Zayn had hidden his face. Finley was confused as to why he would act like this, especially towards a fan. Even she, who enjoyed her isolation from the press and despise the constant barrage of young girls, could find joy in just one girl being so excited to see her boyfriend. Zayn typically loved his picture taken, never had any problem with a fan. Why the sudden change? Finley wondered.

"Let's get out of here," he urged in a hushed voice. He suddenly drew his wallet out of his pocket and left a twenty and a five on the table before standing up and making for the exit, not once looking to see if his girlfriend had followed.

Finley lingered a moment, watching the form walk away from her. That was what he was now, a form of the Zayn that used to thrive. One who was open and loved and made the life around him seem comfortable and lively. That wasn't him now. He was a stalking figure, keeping aspects of himself in the dim shadows of his head and rejecting the openness Finley had to offer. And it was then that her patience turned to easy rage. She was done waiting for him to confide in her. She was done pretending nothing was wrong.

She leapt of the booth and sprang to the door, following the dark haired boy out into the open afternoon air. The atmosphere was warm and lacked wind, an empty space that would not contain her shouts. "What the hell is going on with you, Zayn?!" She shouted, her pleas lost in the dead air.

He spun on his heels, brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, knock that off! Stop pretending that there isn't anything happening with you," she commanded as her eyes narrowed. She bore her green eyes into his brown ones and prayed that he would tell her, confide in her now before he was too far gone, too far for either of them to fix.

"There's nothing happening to me," he shouted calmly, careful not to break the distance between them. He knew better, he knew exactly what she was talking about. The shouting, however, sent him backward ten steps in his plan. It was such a huge decision, something too big that he'd merely taken on a whim. He should tell her, but something in him told him no.

"You're distant," she stated as if it were something she'd known her whole life, as if it were a truth known to all humans. She'd known for days now but buried it away so it wouldn't hurt her. "You are hiding something from me. Just tell me what it is."

"I'm not keeping anything from-"

"Stop!" Finley shouted and took a step forward. Tears began to well within her eyes, lining her eye lids and threatening to spill over. "Stop lying to me."

It all comes down to this, Zayn thought and he was absolutely right. Only the truth would mend the wound he'd caused and that Finley had finally tore open. He knew that she had inklings about his distance but he never could have imagined the impact it had on her. Perhaps the truth, and yet a small lie all at once, could say them now.

"We came down here, to a secluded area, for a getaway."

"Don't you dare tell me that the only reason we are here is for some romantic get away. We could have done that in London," she said defiantly, determined not to let her tears fall. She would not cry until the storm had passed. She had learned throughout her life that you had to be strong during the harsh rains and razor winds of your life and only cry after it had passed. Whether your tears were over a happy outcome or a devastating one, at least you'd kept strong during the difficult part.

"Fine, it was a getaway, but not for us. For me. To take a break, a vacation." He was lying but it held truth in it. They way he'd phrased it made it sound as if this was a trial period and that he would return to London soon and be with the boys and make more music over the years. It wasn't a complete lie- he did plan this break but he'd planned it with a little more permanency. His plan now was to ease her into the idea of leaving the group, slowly, starting with this small vacation, and then reveal he wouldn't be going back to London. Not for a long time.

"A break from what?" Her voice quivered with fear, scared that he might say her name. He loved her, she knew that, but that fear was now engraved into her brain. Despite her own policy she let a tear slide down a freckled cheek and hit the hot pavement of the parking lot.

But what he said was entirely different from what she expected, and thought it was saddening, it made her happy to know that she was still as lovely as could be in his eyes. He said two simple words but in that moment that they were suspended in the empty air, they felt like knives into her. They hurt less than her own name would have but the sting was there.

"One Direction."