Passion '3

New York City is the city where dreams are bound to come true.
But what happens when Emily Hawthorne realise that her dreams and love-life doesn't fit as perfectly together as she had hoped?


3. Come As You Are

"Still haven't spoken to Clara?" Zayn asked, as I was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for the water to finish cooking.

I took a deep breath, "No, no I haven't." 

"Why is it actually that you are mad at her? What did she do?" I knew that he would ask, and I was aware that maybe I had to tell him someday, but that day was definitely not today. "Nothing," I mumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

"She must have done something. You literally just cut her out of your life," 

"It's a long story, nothing to do with you. You don't need to worry about it," I lied.

I knew that Zayn was stubborn and though he hated conflicts, he would probably not give this up easily. I could tell that if he pushed it a lot further I would get annoyed with him. Not because that he wanted to know, because he was my boyfriend and of course he wanted me to tell him everything, but because I knew that if I brought it up, if I as much as mentioned James he would get mad, maybe even hurt. I wanted to avoid any kind of problems between us. 

"But I do! I worry about you! She was your best friend, babe... Something terrible must have happened," He kept pushing it. 

"It's nothing, really."

I could hear him sigh on the other side of the line, "If you say so, but I just don't get why I can't know. I thought you cared so much about 'Not having secrets'." 

"Don't go there, I'm really not in the mood for this right now," I muttered. As my water stopped cooking, I turned around and poured the burning water into a teapot, followed by a teabag. 

"I can tell," Zayn stated. 

My stomach twisted and I took a deep breath, not wanting to cause any drama. I really had hoped that we could just have a lovestruck phone call, with a lot of I love you's and a lot of cute and pointless words, but between him and I things didn't always turn out like I wanted them to. I closed my eyes for a few seconds. 

"I love you, Zayn," I then admitted. 

I could almost feel him breathe out and I could almost see the smile growing on his lips, "I love you too. I’m sorry, that it always has to be this way."

"Don't apologize, I'm just as bad as you are," I smiled. 

He let out a chuckle, "Nah..." He held a pause, "You're worse." 

“Touché.” I laughed.



“How annoying it is to hang out with New York’s new it girl,” Samantha laughed and playfully winked at me.

“I am not and will never be New York’s ‘it girl’ – I’m far from that! Have you seen where I live and how I dress?” I laughed, before taking another sip of my drink. “I think you’re beautiful,” Johanna said with a smile, before swinging an arm around my shoulder. “You taught me well,” I flirted back.

“Well, who says the ‘it girl’ has to be 5’7 tall, have a huge rooftop flat and wear modern clothing?” Samantha pointed out.

“You say that my style is old fashioned?” I raised my eyebrows, but couldn’t help but smile. “Come on, Em! You dress like you were from the 60s or whenever Nirvana was popular!”

“It was in the 80s, you prick!”

“Whatever, it’s that style called something with P or G or something…”

Johanna was just about to open the mouth and say it, when Samantha noticed and fast said, “Don’t say it! I remember! Just give me a second!”

I sighed, “Grunge. Grunge it is.”

“Yes!” Samantha shouted a bit too loudly, causing the people who sat a few bar chairs away from us, to look weirdly at us.

I shook my head with a smile, “I really want a cigarette, would you mind heading somewhere else?” I asked, since almost no indoor places accepted smoking anymore. I got that to be honest, but sometimes it could suck.

Both of the girls thought about it for some seconds.

“But we can’t drink in the streets?” Johanna then said, like she somehow couldn’t imagine this Friday night without alcohol. “Do I look like I care?” I asked with a playful smile. I stood up, grabbed my jacket, along with my bag.

“Are you coming, or?”

Samantha glanced at Johanna, and then she said, “Of course we are.”

“You’re crazy, the police could actually arrest us,” Johanna mumbled, looking slightly unsure.

“Jo, it’s fine. I did it all the time in Denmark-“

“But the laws different there, you guys can drink everywhere!”

“Touché, but no one cares, we can buy some beers, head somewhere, smoke a few cigarettes, just chill out, it’s not a big deal,” I tried to make it sound as casual as possible, but I knew that Johanna who grew up in a little town in Maine would always be more careful about the rules than I was. Honestly, I didn’t really care, not tonight at least. If I wanted to drink some beers outside, then I would. Not that I would go and rub it in strangers faces, since that would just be plain stupid and rude. I just hadn’t grown up in a country like America and if there was one thing that I could complain about, then it was the American alcohol law, but since I was over 21 then I didn’t really complain anymore.


Outside the wind was harsh and cold, typical for an early March night. I zipped my leather jacket, and regretted that I hadn’t brought my scarf; it was probably still lying on my bedroom floor. The streets were filled with lots of different people on this Friday night in the city. 

In the middle of everything and everyone, we were - with lit cigarettes - headed to the nearest Delhi to buy ourselves some beers. 


 "I love New York, even though it isn’t mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it."

- T.C


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