Hey Bad Boy, You're A Tad Overrated

Violet Bronze, Vod, is One Direction’s new stylist and she hates how full of himself Zayn Malik is. Yes, he has smoldering good looks and a moody, mysterious attitude, but Vod is not so easily impressed. Or so she thought. When Zayn begins to send her mixed signals, one minute he acts as if he wants her, the next he ignores her, she doesn’t know what to think or what to do. But there’s one thing she’s dying to tell him, ‘Hey bad boy, you’re a tad overrated!’


5. 5. Mad About You

When I went to work the next morning, I found Zayn flirting with a random girl. I could have made a scene, but since he chose to be a total wanker about what had happened between us, I chose not to waste my breath on him. When he saw me though, he went rigid for a moment, but returned to his flirting right away. I shook my head and went to grab a cup of tea.

‘Morning, Vod,’ Niall said, timid. I ignored him. I was mad at him too. He went on, ‘I’m sorry about last night. It wasn’t fair the way we treated you.’

‘Don’t worry, Irish boy,’ I told him, indifferently. ‘You two aren’t the first idiots I’ve met.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Niall said, all sad. If he was trying to make me feel sorry for him, it didn’t work.

‘I have to get to the dressing rooms,’ I said, turning to leave, but he took my hand.

‘No matter what you may think of us right now, we do care about you,’ Niall said, looking into my eyes.

I lifted my eyebrow and laughed a little. ‘Oh, really? You have a weird way of showing it, then.’

Niall let go of my hand, put his hands in his jeans’ pockets and shrugged. ‘I was only guarding the door,’ he said. ‘I didn’t like it when Zayn took you in there but he won you over. Like he wins over all the girls. I was actually jealous that he took you.’

My eyes widened a little. What did he mean by that? Did he like me? ‘Yes, well, don’t worry. I won’t be making the same mistake of trusting Zayn again,’ I said, took my tea and left.


It was 9pm and I yawned, tiredly rubbing one eye. Almost everyone had gone home by now but I was still at work, kneeling on the floor, sorting clothes out. Someone cleared their throat and I looked over my shoulder. It was Zayn. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. I clicked my tongue, shook my head and got up, taking a few sweaters to the sofa.

‘I saw you talking with Niall this morning,’ Zayn said and when I didn’t reply, he asked, ‘What were you talking about?’

‘None of your business,’ I told him coldly with my back to him. He grabbed my arm, turning me round.

‘What did Niall tell you?’ Zayn asked, demanding for an answer. Our faces were close together and I felt the heat of his breath on my nose.

I freed myself and replied, ‘Don’t worry. He didn’t reveal your dirty little secret. But I figured it out myself.’ Then, I mocked, ‘A kissing booth, Zayn? Really? Not very original for you, is it?’

Zayn grinned, shrugging. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t feel special that I took you there,’ he said.

I slapped him with my lips pursed and with tears in my eyes. He rubbed his cheek with his hand, staring at me. Why was he acting like this? In my heart, I somehow knew he was better than this, even if my mind was screaming at me: he’s trouble trouble TROUBLE.

Zayn grabbed my face and planted his lips on mine, kissing me eager and hard. I put my hands on his chest, wanting to push him away, but I clutched his t shirt, pulling him closer instead. He got fistfuls of my hair and I knew then that I couldn’t help myself escape from this spell he had put on me, even if I tried. When he suddenly pulled away, like he had last night, I was terrified of how he might react this time.

‘Damn it,’ he said through his teeth.

Was it my fault he reacted like that each time he kissed me? Did I have bad breath or something?

‘Did I do something wrong?’ I asked and Zayn locked his eyes with mine.

‘No,’ he simply said.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I asked, unconsciously pouting.

His eyes softened and he moved closer with a long stride. He placed his hands on either side of my stomach and said, looking at my face, ‘You’re a perfect kisser.’

‘Then, what is it?’ I asked, exasperated.

‘I’m mad about you,’ he said. I didn’t see that one coming. He went on, ‘You make my stomach queasy every time I kiss you. I shiver inside. I haven’t felt this way about anyone else before. And it scares me.’ He paused before adding, 'You got under my skin, doll.'

‘Wow,’ I breathed, sitting down on the sofa.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that,’ Zayn said. He had a pained expression on his face. Was it because of me? Did I really make him suffer like this? ‘I know that you hate me and that you don’t trust me. Niall told me so,’ he said.

‘I don’t hate you,’ I told him.

Zayn kneeled in front of me, put his hands behind my knees and repeated, ‘But you don’t trust me.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Let me try and change that,’ he said, hoping.

‘What if you get scared again and go running away from me?’ I asked.

‘I promise I won’t.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

‘Only time will tell, then,’ Zayn said, shrugging.

I placed both my hands on his cheeks and our faces drew nearer. ‘Just, don’t break me,’ I told him and he nodded.


For a moment today I really felt like I wanted to stop updating all of my stories but your lovely comments changed my mind. You guys are great, honest. I mean, I like writing drama (some of you know I do :p) but in real life, drama's actually very tiring! And everything that's happening on Movellas lately is just that, DRAMA! Anyway, I'm sorry if I made anyone sad, I didn't mean to, I was sad myself, because of all of this, and hope you'll continue finding my story interesting enough to read. Marlboro :) xx

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