One. Good. Mistake. *Zayn Malik Love*

Figuring out she had a one-night stand with Zayn Malik, a band member of One Direction, Charlie is then told she must go on tour with the band for her magazine internship.
But Zayn doesn't make it easy for Charlie to forget that night or him, no matter what Charlie does.


11. ::Chapter Eleven::


“So they just let you guys explore the places you go to before the concert, with no security detail?” I asked the boys as we walked right out of the hotel, Lou Teasdale tagging along with one of the band members of this Aussie band that opens for the boys.

Louis nodded, “Yup, we are pretty free with what we want to do. We just have to check in every hour so they don’t think fan girls have found and kidnapped us.”

“Well, guessing you guys don’t have a lot of time without others around you, I’m going to go my separate way and meet up with you later,” I declared, moving away from them once we reached the curb of the sidewalk outside of the hotel.

The boys didn’t disagree and took a right, towards a certain black car, and I avoided Zayn’s curious gaze as I moved away from them and took a left away from the hotel. I heard the car engine start and glanced back to see the car head away from the hotel and I, laughter escaping from the open window.

I grimaced as a clap of thunder sounded from above and hustled away from the hotel, tightening the jacket around my average sized waist but small abdomen. I listened to the quiet tap my shoes made against the ground, displacing pebbles as I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street.

I took my phone out of my pocket and checked the time again, only ten minutes pass noon. The boys would have one last sound check at five before their meet and greet at six, and then their concert at seven thirty.

Plenty of time for me to do what I wanted in Newcastle, being a tourist and all.

I continued to walk away from the hotel, it growing tinier and tinier over my shoulder, as I looked around the town we were in. shops were set up nicely but faces were weary and tired, the normal reaction to a storm coming.

Distracted by looking around, I hadn’t realized I was moving closer and closer to the part of the street where cars moved, until a horn sounded, bringing me back to reality. I glanced around quickly, searching for the sound, and then knowing that the certain car was heading for me.

A hand tightened around my right arm and yanked me back to the sidewalk, the car passing by a few seconds later, angry words being trailed behind. I looked up at my rescuer after shaking myself from the crushing truth that I could’ve just been killed.

He was wearing a thin black tank top that hung loosely on his shoulders, a dull bandana messily placed around his neck, and black skinny jeans that somehow looked good on him. The only thing that made my blood tense was the lip ring. The thought of the process of how it got there just makes me cringe.

“Thought suicidal girls stayed in mental hospitals,” The guy spoke, shoving me out of my trance and back into my body, which was still being touched by him. “Did you escape?”

My eyes narrowed, “For one, I’m not suicidal. And two, resort back to my first reason.” I angrily yanked my arm out his grasp and moved down the street, trying to get away from him.

He made my blood run fast, for opposite reasons than you’d think.

“You’re welcome,” He called out behind me. I turned and looked at him.

“I would’ve rather been hit by the car than rescued by you, jerk,” I retorted before taking a right around the corner.

Doesn’t matter if guys are foreign or not becase they all can still be assholes.

I stopped as I nearly passed a bookstore and stepped inside, heading towards the science fiction area of it. I scanned the neatly position books, looking for something remotely interesting. I need something to do while the boys were doing their concerts at night, leaving me alone at the hotel.

I ignored the bell ringing again as the shop door opened, looking at a book called The Iron Butterfly, it being about a girl waking up imprisoned with no memories. Interesting but that’s gotta suck. I shrugged my shoulders and plucked it off the shelf, about to turn to go check it out when a voice stopped me.

“I’m sorry.”

I rolled my eyes and turned around, letting the book rest idly at my side in my hand. The guy from earlier stood behind me, the bandana now hanging from his front pocket instead of around his neck.

“Whatever,” I replied and stepped past him and walked up to the front desk, placing the book on the counter with the right amount of money next to it.

The owner smiled politely and rang me up, placing the book in a small bag, before handing it to me. I paused and looked in the direction I had come, the guy no longer there or anywhere in the shop, and then eagerly left the bookshop.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, the guy leaning against the brick wall of the shop. “Leave me alone, I mean thanks for earlier, but go away.”

He raised his brows, “You are just downright mean to strangers, aren’t you?”

“Only to those who call me suicidal when I was just distracted and not paying attention,” I stated as I passed him by, pressing the book to my chest as I fastened my pace.

Yet he pursued me.

“Seriously, I apologized,” The guy complained. “Forgive and forget, will you?”

“Fine, now go away,” I muttered, trying to find my way back to the direction of the hotel.

I made it back in silence, and halfway there believing he had left, but was startled when I turned around and he was there.

“What does it take for you to leave me alone?” I growled, reaching the entrance of the hotel.

“Give me your number,” He requested. “And I know I shouldn’t be asking but please.”

I snatched his phone and typed it in and with no further words, walked away from him, and into the hotel lobby. He was gone when I turned around, regretting my decision, but when I turned back around there was Zayn but he was yelling into his phone. 

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