A Best Friend's Secret

When Isabelle Reed is flung into a new year, she wants it to be the best yet. Everything is going great until Febuary 14th comes by and she is faced with yet another lonely Valentines Day with not even her friends to hang out with because they all had boyfriends and girlfriends. The only person who didn't have a date for Valentines Day was her best friend, Zayn Malik of One Direction. They decide to spend it together as friends and as the day goes on, Isabelle may realise that maybe Zayn wasn't just her best friend.

*Valentines Day with One Direction contest entry*


1. A Broken Promise

I groaned as I realised what day it was, sitting up in my bed and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Valentine's Day had never been my best day because I was tired of always being alone on one of the most romantic days in the year; plus I didn't get why it existed. Why dedicate a whole day to romance? If you have a special someone, shouldn't you be romantic whenever the heck you want? It's stupid in my opinion and my opinion is usually very relevant, according to my teachers. I sighed and got up, walking to my wardrobe quickly, sifting through my drawers in search of the perfect 'Valentine' outfit. I decided on a pair of light pink skinny jeans, a black tank top, black toms and a hoodie with a cute chocolate eating monster on it. I left my dark hair to fall down my back in waves, put on a light gloss and a small amount of eyeliner. I smiled at my reflection and grabbed my phone, flopping onto my bed and scrolling through my contacts.

Lauren? No, she's got Dylan.

Christy? Nope, she's dating Lance.

Jenny? Of course she'll be with her boyfriend, Craig.

I groaned again and buried my head in my pillow, screaming silently into it. Alone. All alone on Valentine's Day with not even a friend to hang out with. Maybe I could video chat with Zayn, my best friend, but he's famous, he'll probably have some girl on his arm and have no time for me. I was about to fall asleep again, giving up on this day, when my phone suddenly came alive with Zayn's voice, a preset ringtone he'd made, screaming for me to pick it up. I quickly accepted the call and put it on speaker phone.

"Hello," I groaned against my pillow.

"Hey, 'Belle," Zayn's Bradford accent lauged through the phone and I shot up, a huge smile spreading across my face, "I'm in town, d'you want to hang out? I almost never see you anymore."

"Sure. Park in ten?" I asked and he agreed. We hung up and I fist pumped the air excitedly, getting my things together and rushing out of the apartment building, catching a bus to the park Zayn and I both loved. I sat on the bench that I was sitting on the day we met, fiddling with my fingers and thinking about that day a year ago.

I was sitting at my desk in the English classroom, keeping my head low in an attempt to stay unseen and actually go a whole day without being bullied by my classmates. I couldn't help it that I knew more about English than our teacher, Mr Nel, did or that I was smarter than most. I can't help that Mr Nel was a nub! What English teacher hasn't read Romeo and Juliet? Since when does Romeo compare Juliet to a rose? Since when are teachers allowed to be biased just because someone doesn't believe what they do? I don't care if his mother is a priest, my family is who my family is.

As Mr Nel exited the room to get worksheets from the photocopy room, I felt a balled up piece of paper hit my head and bounce onto my desk. I opened it up to see a - very poorly drawn - picture of what was supposed to be me having my head blown to bits while everyone in the little stick figure class laughed and pointed at me. I turned around to see Dean Comley and Deon Scholtz snickering and Lutho illustrating the picture with his hands. I hated them so, so much.

"Oh, very mature," I rolled my eyes as I turned back toward the front. They were soon leaning over so that their heads were beside mine, Dean and Deon on one side and Lutho on the other. They were laughing mercilessly as Lutho started taunting me.

"No one likes you, Reed." Lutho hissed in my ear, "No one wants you! Everyone wants you to leave. Everyone wants you to die."

I shook my head and tears pressed against my eyelids, "N-no, my parents l-love me."

"No they don't," Dean told me darkly, "They got divorced because of you! You destroyed them! If you weren't born, everyone would be happy." Tears spilled onto my cheeks as they laughed, "You're such a baby!"

I shot up and ran. I left my school bag there and ran out of the classroom, the school property and down the streets, their snickering ringing in my ears as I left. I ran as fast as possible and only slowed down once I had entered the park, tears still streaming down my face as I fell into a bench and cried, panting and out of breath to add to your crying hesteria.

"Why can't I be perfect?" I cried, hiding my face in my hands.

"Perfect is overrated," A Bradford accent startled me and I looked up in shock as Zayn Malik from the famous boy band One Direction stood in front of me. I laughed hollowly and wiped the tears from beneath my eyes.

"Well, when you're me, overrated is the dream life." I said, chuckling humourlessly.

Zayn sat beside me, smiling at me kindly, "Your dream life sounds weird."

"Maybe to you," I shrugged and inspected my nails awkwardly, "You're already perfect."

"Okay, that hurt! That was very insulting!"

I laughed as he put on a fake hurt expression, "I apologise Mr Malik."

"Speaking of which, what's your name?" Zayn asked me and I looked up at him. Did he really care? I examined his black quiff and his bright hazel eyes, deciding that he was trustworthy. Who would he tell my problems to anyway?

"I'm Isabelle.Or geek, if you prefer. I go by both now a days," I told him and Zayn took one of my fiddling hands in his.

"You're not a geek, Isabelle." He whispered sweetly, "You are beautiful and smart and talented. If people make fun of you, it's only because they're jealous."

"Everyone wants me dead, Zayn."

"I don't," Zayn pointed out with a slight chuckle and a small smile formed on my lips, "I could never want you dead! How's about from now on, we're best friends. Okay?" I nodded, "Pinkie promise."

Zayn stuck out his pinkie and I wrapped mine around his, smiling at him. That chance meeting wouldn't have happened if those boys hadn't bullied me and the next day, when I saw the three boys, I smiled and waved at them as I texted Zayn.

"Hey, Belle!" Zayn's accent made me look up and I squinted to see him against the morning sunlight, which was showing off the blonde streak I'd given him at the front of his dark quiff last time I'd seen him. It needed some touching up, but it still looked good as heck. I jumped up and flung my arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly, I feared he may just die, but he hugged me back just as tightly, "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, Mr Malik." I stated and finally pulled away from our hug.

We started walking, talking about anything random that came to mind until my phone suddenly dinged. I checked my texts, discovering that I had new twitter mentions. I logged on and the first thing I saw was the number one world wide twitter trend, which was #ZaynAndIsabelleSurprise. I clicked on it, sifting through pages and pages of girls saying 'it took him long enough'. I snuck a glance at a confused looking Zayn and went to his profile to see his last tweet.

"Seeing Belle today :D I need to tell her something... nervous!"

I shook my head and put my phone away, looking up at Zayn with a smile. I decided to just ignore it. He was probably going to show me their ideas for their next album or something and I couldn't wait. I love hearing about their ideas. It makes me feel like my opinion matters to him. Zayn and I ended up going to the mini golf course that we hadn't been to in ages - probably because I can't play miniature golf at all. I suck and that's not even an overstatement.

"Why are we here?" I laughed, "I can't play miniature golf!"

"I know and because of that, it's very entertaining to watch!" Zayn tapped the tip of my nose and I scrunched it up, making my eyes half close in the process. We went through the holes, me positively sucking at it and Zayn beating me on every hole. When we finally got to the sixteenth hole, I cracked and asked Zayn his secret, receiving a smile in return as he leaned his club against a wooden beam and strode toward me. Zayn helped me position myself and then my hands, wrapping his arms around me to help me. My skin tingled at the slightest contact of our skin - mine terribly pale compared to his - and I tried to fight the urge to turn around and kiss him. I admit it, I've had a crush on Zayn for a long time, but I suppressed the feelings then and I can suppress them now. Zayn pulled back my club with me as he whispered in my ear, "...And you just tap it gently."

"Thanks, Zayn," I turned to him and smiled, staring into his amazingly deep eyes.

"Sure." We both started leaning in until I realised what I was doing and quickly snapped away, rambling on about 'two more holes' so that I could get out of what was about to happen. I had to remember that Zayn is just my best friend. We continued the game and I did get slightly better but Zayn still kicked my butt to china and back. He always would.

Once we were done with the final hole, we got our clubs and golfballs and put them down off of the course, not ready to face the outside world just yet. It was peaceful in the minigolf place. Zayn and I leaned against wooden collums across from each other, allowing our bodies to slip down until the ends of our shoes pressed against one another's. I smiled at our feet, inspecting the shoes he wore. He wore black converse - the ones with the white, hard toed ends - and I saw that my handwriting was still visible, although it was fading. On the white hard cover of his right shoe, I had written 'forever'. I remember that day like it was yesterday,

It was my birthday and I wasn't spending it with anyone but Zayn. We lay, sprawled out on my couches and watching some movie. We weren't paying attention, but rather flinging popcorn at each other and laughing. We were aiming for each other's mouths originally, but it soon became a full out popcorn war. and I laughed as popcorn flew around the room and I was suddenly glad my mum wasn't home to see the mess we were making.

"You're so dead!" I exclaimed as I strung popcorn out of my hair, throwing myself across the couch's arm and ontop of Zayn, straddling his abdomen and wrestling with him, our fingers interlocking as we pressed against one another's hands, trying to win the wrestling war.

"Or am I?" Zayn demanded and quickly moved his hands to tickle me, making me fall onto my back in a huge fit of giggles as he was now on top of me. I squirmed beneath him, laughing and trying to fight him off.

"N-no! Stop! That's illegal! No!" I screamed and he laughed with me, finally releasing me from his torture.

We lay on the same couch this time and we finally calmed down. Zayn's leg was bent over mine and his foot was hanging in front of me while mine was in front of him. I reached over and grabbed a black marker, holding his foot in place as I wrote 'forever' on his shoe. Once I had finished, I passed the marker to Zayn and he wrote 'best friends' on the tip of my left shoe. I smiled at Zayn and thought about how much he really meant to me.

"Remember the promise we made the day we met?" Zayn asked me quietly and I looked up at him slowly and nodded. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I don't think I'll be able to keep that promise."

"What?" It came out in a small wisp of a voice and I shoved myself off of the collum, walking toward him briskly and standing before him with hurt in my eyes and voice, "What the heck do you mean, Zayn Malik?"

"It hurts," He muttered and looked up at me through his long eyelashes. I raised my eyebrows in confusion and he shook his head, "It hurts seeing you and everytime I do, you look more beautiful. It hurts being so close to you because I just want to pin you against a wall and kiss you. I just want tell you how much you mean to me. I want to kiss you every second and I want to hear you say my name in a different way. I want you to say my name in a way that tells me you love me too without even saying it. I just want to-"

"Zayn!" I interrupted him and he finally realised that throughout his speech, I had been moving closer to him, "I already say your name like that! You just hadn't noticed it. Why do you wish to do those things? Why don't you just do them! I want you to press me against a wall and kiss me. I want you to make me believe that I'm beautiful even if I know I'm not. I want you."

Zayn and I must have spent five minutes staring into each other's eyes before he suddenly sprang on me, kissing me with so much passion, I wondered how he had kept so much bottled up. His hands were holding my hips with an iron grip and my arms wrapped around his neck as I kissed him back. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me even tighter against his body, ensuring that any space between us was demolished. I was the one who had to eventually pull away and I giggled once I did so.

"What are you snickering about?" Zayn asked me with a smile and I shook my head.

"I love you." I laughed and gently kissed him again.

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