The sun shone through the blinds of the hotel room. I turned over and there was no one on the bed with me. I got up and walked into the lounge room. This wasn’t Zayn’s room. I walked around looking for any signs of him. I walked to the door. Number 16. I looked down I was wearing sweats and a singlet. I never met Zayn, It was all a dream. I fell onto the lounge remembering the dream. I envied my imagination, if only it would turn into reality.

I changed into denim shorts and a strapless shirt so I could go and get breakfast. As I turned around after locking the door I ran into someone. I bent down to pick up my keys. “I’m so sorry.” Said a voice with a hypnotising British accent. “It’s my fault don’t worry about it.” I said as I got up. I looked up and found a tan, dark haired, tall guy standing in front of me with gorgeous brown eyes. No it couldn’t be, how could it be Zayn? “How about I take you to breakfast and talk about how it’s my fault.” He said smiling at me. “Sounds good.” I said smiling back. He took my hand and we walked down the hall hand in hand.