20. Annie
Annie
“He did what?” Marcy yells at me as we sit on her couch.
“Don’t make me repeat it,” I say, throwing my head into my palms. Last night was.
.. different. Zayn and I watched a movie and snuggled on the couch like we were a real couple.
Not fake. Not doing it for someone else or for cameras.
It was just us. We ended up falling asleep, then woke up this morning to Logan knocking on our front door because Zayn was late for their meeting to talk strategy about an upcoming event.
“And you didn’t sleep together?” Marcy gives me her best side-eye.
“No, no. He had to go and be selfless. The complete opposite of what he’s supposed to be. I’m not supposed to like him, Marce. It’s all fucked up now.”
“What’s wrong with having a little fun?” Marcy raises her eyebrows.
“Having fun with a deadline isn’t fun.” I’m starting to wonder if I want this to end at all.
“Well no, if you think about all the negatives, you won’t think it’s fun. But, from my point of view, you two like each other enough to not only live together and fake date, but to also have multiple intimate moments.”
“I don’t know if I’d call them intimate,” I mumble, pulling out my phone. Greg texted and asked me to pick up some coffee on the way to the office this afternoon.
“I know you have to go soon, but why don’t we focus on the positives. I only know Zayn as the douchebag at work, always so grumpy and never talking to anyone, so tell me what you like about him,” Marcy prompts.
“You’re supposed to be on my side. Team no-Zayn. I shouldn’t be thinking about the things I like about him. It’s only going to make me want him more.” I stand and move toward the front door to gather my things to head to work.
“That’s not a bad thing, you know. You should like him a little, give into the temptation, make the most of your time with him. So, come on. Let’s hear it.”
A sigh escapes my lips and my eyes shut from the weight of what I’m starting to feel for Zayn.
It doesn’t help that I can’t avoid him and only see him for publicity.
Every morning, we cross paths in the kitchen, grabbing coffee and awkwardly shuffling around one another.
Every evening, the same dance occurs. Except, as the weeks pass, it’s getting less awkward.
Now my heart stutters when I know I’ll see him.
“I, uhm, like that he never is shy around me,” I admit.
“What do you mean?” Marcy asks.
“Well, he pushes me to the point where I snap at him. He’s the only person that I do that with, outside of you and Cass. It’s like he’s allowing me to be myself, just by being him .”
“Yeah, I can see that. You do tend to put up walls to people you just meet.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “And also, he’s surprisingly fun. Like, I know he has this grumpy shell and all, but when I get him to laugh or smile… I don’t know. It feels like I won the lottery.” I’m getting bashful now, my cheeks warming in embarrassment from opening my heart to Marcy.
“Oof, Anns, I don’t think it’s possible to be team no-Zayn because you’re down bad for him. And before you say anything, it’s not a bad thing. You, my friend, are allowed to have fun. Your job sucks anyway, might as well make the most out of it.”
Marcy might have a point.
“You always know the right things to say. Just promise you’ll be here when my heart breaks at the end of it all.” I grimace, looking at Marcy with a sheepish smile on my face.
“I’ll have ice cream and movies ready to go.” Marcy grins.
“I’d be lost without you.”
“I know.”
She walks toward the door, holding it open for me. “Now, go on, I know if you’re late you’ll never hear the end of it.”
She’s right.
“True, true. I’ll text you later.”
“You better.” Marcy closes the door after I walk out.
After stopping at Flora, which thankfully had a blueberry muffin, I feel better. My chest is lighter, my head doesn’t pound from the constant struggle to keep thoughts of Zayn out, and I’m hoping that by the time I get home tonight, I’ll know how to approach him.
We still haven’t talked about his breakup that happened a year ago, nor have I told him what happened with me and Dan.
I’m content to focus on what’s happening currently between us while still remembering that everything will end. We are using each other to get to the next level of our careers, and choosing to have a little fun. That’s it. Right? Why does thinking that make my heart ache and my stomach feel uneasy?
Luckily, the office gives me other things to occupy my brain than endless thoughts about my not-love life.
I march into the main conference room and set Greg’s coffee in front of him as he types away on his computer, humming a song to himself. James enters a few minutes later. They hand a clipboard to Greg, mouth to me that we will talk after, then leave the room.
A sigh escapes Greg, and he shuts his laptop. “Ah, Annie, thank you.” He grabs the coffee I set next to him ten minutes ago, brings it up to his mouth, and takes a sip.
“Of course.” I force my lips to form a smile that resembles my normal attitude. “What did you want to talk about today?”
“Oh, right, let me look at my notes.” Greg puts the coffee back down and flips through his notebook for a few moments. He could have included the reason for this meeting in his message, or on the calendar invite, but that wouldn’t be very Greg-like.
“Ah, here we go.” Greg chuckles to himself, proud of his findings. “I have a lead for a future client should everything go well, but let’s talk about the Rising Star Gala first.”
I nod for him to continue, clicking my pen and opening my notebook to write down important details.
“This gala acts as the first event where Zayn is speaking in front of a crowd.” Greg tells me details I already know because I’m the one that landed him that speaking spot, but I bite my tongue.
“You’ll not only be Zayn’s date, but you’ll be representing this firm in a more public eye than you have before.
Any future client will be watching any posted interviews, so be sure to keep a tight lip. ”
“I understand.” Play the doting girlfriend, make sure Zayn talks to the right people. Easy enough.
“Great, I knew you would. And no need to worry about what future clients will think, with you playing both roles and all. To everyone else, your relationship is as real as it gets.” Greg dons a smile, and I don’t know where all of this anger is coming from, but him downplaying my capabilities makes me want to throw my notepad at his head.
“And for the future client, it would require you to relocate to New York, to our other office.”
“New York?” I parrot, confused why the client would be located in New York.
Is Greg trying to get rid of me? Are there really no other celebrities here that need PR help?
I doubt it. I’m stunned. Confused. Angry.
Sad. Most of all, I’m terrified . Everything with Zayn is going great, or at least is on the path to being something good.
And now? With the possibility of having to move across the country?
Well, then there’s no way things with Zayn can be anything more than temporary.
“Yes, would that be a problem?” Greg asks, shaking me from my initial shock. It’s as if he’s stunned at the possibility that I might not want to move to New York. When have I ever given this man the thought that I might want to relocate?
“Well, respectfully, I’ve never thought about moving to New York,” I say, hoping my tone comes across as polite.
“You should, as that might be the only client that would fit your...” Greg pauses like he’s unsure what word to use to describe me. “Capabilities and all.” I’m at a loss for words, so I simply nod again and try my best to form a smile, disappointed when all I can muster is a thin-lipped version.
“Great, well, have fun at the gala and I’ll keep you up to date if we have any local clients that I feel would be good for you, assuming things with Zayn continue the way they are.” Greg stands, gathers his items, and leaves before I’m able to mutter a response.
Fine by me. I don’t have anything to say anyway. If he wants to push me out after I have a successful campaign with Zayn, because it will be successful, then fine. I’ll do what I always do, smile my way through it.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” James scares the shit out of me when I enter my office a few minutes later.
My hand slams to my chest and I almost drop my coffee.
“I was before you almost made me give myself a third-degree burn,” I exasperate, strolling over to my desk. “Everything is great.” I smile, knowing it’s a mask to hide the fact that all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
“You know you don’t have to do that.” James walks over to my desk, taking a seat in the only other free chair in the room. “You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”
“I know,” I mumble, half to myself, half to the floor.
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what’s going on? Is it Zayn? Do I need to pay him a visit?” James tries to furrow their brows together to show me they are serious, but I just end up giggling.
“It is, but not for the reason you think.” I glance at them to catch their reaction, grimacing when I realize I’m talking about my feelings with someone who isn’t my sister or my best friend.
I’ve gotten so used to keeping everything to myself that even though James has turned into a good friend of mine (and is eternally grateful to me for finding their soulmate), I’ve never been the type of friend to offload my problems on someone else.
I don’t need someone else telling me terrible things about myself.
“Well you did move in with the guy...”
I begin to roll my eyes but catch myself, not wanting to show my attitude. “I did, yes, but it started with good intentions.”
“And now?”
“Well, James, to be honest, I’m a bit fucked.” I squint my eyes and shrug.
James’ jaw drops. “Annie, I think that is the first time I’ve heard you cuss in the three years I’ve known you.”
I roll my eyes for real this time, letting more of me out. The side of me that only certain people get to see, Zayn being the most recent. “Get used to it because I need advice. Greg told me I might have to move to New York for my next client, and I don’t know what to do about my boyf—Zayn.”
“Oh, shit. That sucks, Annie. I’ll keep my ear out for any other opportunities,” James says, and I know they mean it. They’d gossip with Nancy if I asked them to. “As for your boyfriend, do you like him?”
I refrain from reacting to James picking up on how I almost called Zayn my boyfriend, my real boyfriend, and nod instead.
“And does he like you?”
My mind flashes to last night. I nod again.
“Then I don’t see the problem here. Just have some fun! What’s the harm in that?”
Why does James have to say the same thing Marcy said? It would be nice to have one person tell me that I’m making a big mistake, to knock some sense into me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad people are rooting for us.
“I suppose you’re right,” I admit. It’s not like I’m going to be able to avoid Zayn for the next couple months. And I’m not going to ignore his advances, if he even still wants to have me in that way.
“So, what’s the plan?” James asks.
I ponder for a moment, tapping my feet together under my desk. “Have fun for a few months and try to avoid heartbreak when it ends.” I grin.
“Not a fail-safe plan, but I think you’ll be happy where it leads. Regardless if you two stay together or part amicably.”
“I hope you’re right. Otherwise, I’ll be sending you my therapy bill.”
James chuckles. “I’d expect nothing less.”
After James leaves, I’m heads down all day.
I research topics for the gala this weekend, try to find a dress (when did they get so expensive?), and text Zayn about dinner.
He texted me a little while ago, asking if I had plans, and then told me he’s cooking dinner.
I said no, even though I could have lied and went to Marcy’s.
But I want to see Zayn. I haven’t seen him all day and. .. I miss him. Actually miss him.
Thoughts swirl in my head about New York and the chance that I’ll have to move away from my sister, my best friend, and the guy I’m starting to fall for. When all the pieces of my life are starting to come together, this is when a tornado decides to rip through and destroy it all.
If I didn’t move to New York, I could stay here and see what happens with Zayn. Maybe we wouldn’t end it, maybe we’d dissolve the end date and decide to date for real.
But also, I’d be starting over with my career. I wouldn’t have a solid place to land since no one wants a publicist with no solo client experience, and I’m not sure James could even be a reference for me if I wanted to find a different role.
I’m going to have to choose Zayn or my career, and at this moment, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.