Beautiful Mistake

I drove to the local grocery store, only a few blocks from my white picket fence paradise. I needed to pick up the ingredients that I would need for when Zayn came home tonight from working in the city. He would spend weeks on end in the city, recording, writing, doing press and publicity. And I would be here. Playing house without a partner.

I pushed the cart, going through every aisle, something I had always insist on, ever since I was a child.

“I heard he likes the bad girls,” A teenage girl giggled, while memorizing every detail of the teenage magazine that she held to her nose.

“Of course he would! He’s so mysterious and dangerous looking. Those tattooes!” Her friend giggled. They wore the uniforms of the local school, “You know I heard rumors that he lives here.”

“Here? Why would he live here? It’s so boring and nothing’s here.”

“Yeah apparently he hides his girlfriend here away from the media and paparazzi! You know the house on Wentworth. The one that is always empty, but every so often there’s a sports car parked there. Think about it! Who would need a sports car here? Everyone who lives here has a family.”

“I don’t believe it! That could be anyone. Besides why would he want to hide his girlfriend? Is he still with the anorexic one?”

“I think so! The ballerina one who can’t even dance anymore!” The girl chortled.

I pushed my cart straight to the register, ignoring the last few aisles, and checked out, not wanting to hear more of their conversation. I felt nauseous, but I swallowed back the bile at the back of my throat. Zayn was coming home today and I wanted to have a nice night.

As much as I tried to push the girls’ words out of my head, they still echoed and reverberated in my mind.

I needed him. He was essential as breathing air and made me feel higher than any drug. I needed him and he needed me to be the bad girl he wanted. The sexy troublemaker, who defied conventions. I needed to be the bad girl to keep him interested at all costs.



Everything about the house felt like a tug-of-war between rural, suburban living and the city luxuries we had grown up in. The house we had was small, single-storied with two bedrooms. There was grassy backyard and a pool that Zayn insisted on having put in. I sat in the quaint swing, with its wide, white wood seating and the plastic-covered ivy chain supporting it.

Swinging in the backyard, I waited for him to pull up in his fast car, listening for the familiar vroom and the equally familiar whistling. His car was a thing of beauty with its sleek lines and an engine that could surpass the national speed limit. But it was completely impractical, a two-seater with absolutely no boot space. It could barely fit the two of us. It couldn’t fit a family.

I smiled to myself as I heard the car door close and him whistling my name. I rushed to meet him at the door. I was wearing his favorite sundress, a short, yellow number with razor thin straps. I opened the door to greet him. “Baby,” I breathed as I wrapped my arms around him, taking in the smell of his cologne mixing with the soft leather smell of his jacket. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” We stood there for a moment and I just let him hold me. Everything I did was all for this. This closeness. This intimacy. Everything I did was all for him.



The pots were empty and left soaking in the sink. The dishes were stowed in the dishwasher, which rumbled politely. The TV was on and the couch was filled with me and him. We were playing video games like we were children, like we really were 20 year old kids.

We finished the level and he finished the last of his beer.

“I’ll grab you another one of those,” I smiled and stood up and got a beer from the fridge. After handing it to him, I stood from afar and watched him. Just watched him.

He twisted the cap off with ease, his lean, wry muscles rippling from the effort. He raised the glass bottle to his lips and took a long swig. His brown eyes caught me staring at him, “Get over here.”

And who was I to say no. I strode over and molded my body to his, my lips, his tongue, my hands, “You’re the bestest,” I sighed.



I unzipped my sundress and let it fall to the floor, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him watching me. I pulled on the coral bandage dress, slipped on my high heels and added more mascara to my curled lashes. I sprayed on his favorite perfume. I grabbed my purse and his hand. “Take me downtown,” I purred, winking at the double entendre.

We walked into one of our favorite haunts, Old Paul’s. Old Paul’s was famous for all the old timey celebrities visiting it in the decades past. Now it was us. The young boyband-ers and their girls who were just living for the fame.

We sang and danced, shooting down the supply of tequila and whiskey, playing pool and wild darts and only leaving momentarily to smoke out in the blue dark. I swayed from the high heels and the hefty amount of alcohol in my system so Zayn held me in his big arms. I kissed him, he tasted of lime, salt and smoke. It was intoxicating. I could only think of this.

Louis stumbled out of Old Paul’s beckoning us to come back inside. Harry, laughing and enjoying himself, bid us farewell. He much preferred the club scene, where teeny bopper girls would fawn over him.

We eventually joined Louis and the others inside.

“You know, I think this world was built for two. Like really only worth living if somebody is loving you,” Eleanor slurred. “I mean right?”

“Of course, babe,” Louis agreed, holding her close to him.

“You’re sooo right, Eleanor,” Danielle giggled as Liam whispered something in her ear.

“Let’s take this body downtown,” Zayn groaned in my ear, the tequila on his breath.

I nodded as we hailed a taxi to take us home. The expensive sports car would have to spend the night outside of Old Paul’s tonight. I leaned in for a big kiss, “It’s you,” I whispered, “It’s you. It’s all for you. Everything I do.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to him. “Heaven is a place on earth with you,” The words tumbled out of my alcohol-loosened lips.

“So you tell me all the time,” He chuckled. Zayn paid the cab driver and he led me inside. We fell onto the bed, lips locked and hands all over.

He unzipped my dress, pulling it down, eager to glut on my body, covering it with kisses.

“Tell me all the things you want to do,” I undid the belt and unbuttoned his trousers. “I heard you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?” I moaned.

His lips captured mine in a long, drugging kiss, giving me the answer that I already knew. He entangled his hands in my hair, holding me still.

“It’s better than I ever even knew,” I laid my head on his chest. We made love till the sun rose and the birds chirped.

Before I fell asleep, I knew what tomorrow held. A massive hangover and nothing else. Zayn would get up and leave to go back into the city. His empty beer bottles, the askew game controllers, and his lingering cologne would be the only things to suggest he was even here.

I got up, pulled on sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt. I packed a suitcase with enough clothes for two weeks and shoved the luggage in the boot of my car. I took one last look at him, the strong, stubbled jaw, the straight nose, the caramel skin.

I scrawled a note, "I'm finally awake and you're just a beautiful mistake."

And left.