Stupid Boy

He was everywhere. Becky soon learned that even though she was no longer with Zayn, his face was everywhere. She couldn't pick up a magazine without seeing his face on it, or any of his band mates on it. She couldn't turn on the television without seeing him being interviewed on some gossip show. Every time she got in her car a One Direction song was on. As much as she hated it, she could pinpoint every part of the songs that were his.

“God, this fucking song,” she cursed as she got in her car one April morning to the sound of What Makes You Beautiful. “Awesome, she doesn't know she’s beautiful. Not like it’s that fucking uncommon.”

Becky was bitter, and she knew it, too. Zayn had promised her the world, promised her nothing would change. The moment One Direction was formed everything changed. She stayed in England like he’d asked her to, but he didn't stick around. The moment One Direction appeared on X Factor, as a group, she knew it was over. She’d thrown away her dreams for a boy, a boy who had bigger things to do.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” her best friend, Meghan, laughed as she got in the small, red car.

“You have to admit this song is annoying,” Becky urged her, pulling onto the busy London street.

“I think it’s kinda catchy,” Meghan shrugged, pulling her brown hair back into a ponytail. “You only hate it because you hate anything that has to do with Zayn.”

“It’s just a stupid fucking song.”

Becky was full of resentment as she made her way into the London university. Everyday she was reminded that she wasn't at Berkeley and it made her hate Zayn more. When she’d agreed to stay in England, she’d given up her spot at her dream school. “This place sucks,” Becky muttered to her best friend.

“You need to get laid, I think.”

Becky nearly choked on the water she’d just put in her mouth as Meghan spoke. She looked at the brunette wide eyed. “Do you have a filter at all? Jesus Christ,” she muttered the last two words.

“I’m serious! You and Zayn ended things what, a year ago? Move on with your life. If you hate him as much as you say you do, I don’t get why you still hold onto him.”

“I’m not holding onto him,” Becky snapped.

“Then go on a date with someone. Just go out and have some drinks and have fun,” Meghan encouraged. “Just forget about Zayn. Please.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

Later that night, Becky was zipping up a skin tight black dress as she stood in front of the full length mirror in her room. Meghan was setting her up with someone, and Becky had no idea what she was getting herself into. She groaned loudly, her hands falling to her sides. “Meghan, I’m not going!” she yelled, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Meghan made her way into the room, nearly dragging Becky off her bed. “You look hot. We’re going out, you’re going to love this guy, and you’re going to get drunk and go home with him. Now let’s go.”

The two got to the crowded bar, sending the bouncer smiles as he let them in. Becky scanned the bar, finding no one that drew her attention. “Beer,” Meghan simply said, grabbing Becky’s hand and pulling her along to the bar.

Her date was waiting for them at the bar, and Becky was underwhelmed at his appearance. While she wasn't one to quickly judge someone based on how they looked, she couldn't help it with this guy. His smile was off, and the look in his eyes gave her the chills- and not in a good way. His blonde hair was surely from a bottle. “’Lo,” he smiled, his accent almost annoying to her. “I’m Alexander.”

“Becky,” she gave him her best smile, but knew anyone with eyes could tell it was fake.

He bought her a drink, to which she happily accepted. She was going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through the night.

Becky eventually made her way to the mass of bodies dancing, wheeling her date behind her. She hadn't even really spoken to another guy since Zayn, and she wanted some physical contact with someone. Even though this someone was someone she would never look at had she been sober.

One minute she was dancing, the next she felt like she’d been hit by a train. Standing not ten feet from her was Zayn Malik. His brown eyes right on her, his lips set in a hard line. She had to admit he looked good, even in her clouded vision. He didn't look like the Zayn she knew seven months ago, but surely touring the world would change a person a little.

She knew she was bound to run into him eventually. London was only so big with so many good bars. She just wasn't particularly prepared to run into him at that moment in time, so she did what anyone else would do. She ran. She pressed her drink into Alexander’s hand and booked it. She didn't turn back to look for Meghan or her date. She just had to get out of the club.

“Fuck,” she cursed, pushing her hair off her face as she walked down the sidewalk. Only seconds later, her phone was ringing. “This is why I don’t go out, Meghan.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Becky insisted. “It was just so weird to look up and see him, you know? God, I was not expecting that. I’m fine, though, honestly. I’m just heading home and I’m going to get some sleep.”

Becky did go to bed nearly the moment she got home, but not before sliding off her dress. “Fuck,” she repeated for the second time in 10 minutes as the look on Zayn’s face replayed in her head over and over. Nothing good was going to come out of this.