My name is Roseanne Martinez,but most people refer to me as Rose or Rosie. I was in love. Actually I still am. He never loved me back though. He was just another popstar,that likes to crush hearts. I should have seen through his perfect reputation. No one ever threw him hate. Even if he broke their hearts,they just pretended it was their fault. I don’t think I can do that. No,I won’t, I cannot! I will make a mess of his facade,I will make a mockery of him! He will not win this game. He picked the wrong player to knock down,now he WILL pay the price. I just wonder how long he will try to stay on top. I will be on top in the end. Or will I? Read on and find out!
A/N: This is sucky,sorry. I personally think the story is actually better. Please read it,it would mean a lot to me!


23. What Did I Do?

My heart literally stops beating here and now. I feel ready to pass out, but I control it and just stumble onto my recliner.

"You alright dear?" Zayn murmurs quietly, kneeling next to me and suddenly I feel queasy again.

"Rosie, baby?" He starts again and I close my eyes harshly

I try to clear my mind and ignore the nausea. Zayn said I was at his house at midnight, fucking his brains out. Louis says I was at his place around three banging him, possible, but barely. If it did really happen then how come it's all so fuzzy. You think I would remember having "amazing" sex with an almost model and the guy I thought I was going to marry, but obviously not. By this point, I will have to tell one of them, there's no way to get out of that.

"Rosie..." Zayn mutters again, poking my cheek gingerly. This is his obvious way of saying that he wants an answer and he's trying to lighten the mood.

Slowly I drag my eyes open, the world shifting again. My stomach flips and churns with such a force it physically hurts. "Z-Zayn..." I hiss out, not sure if I should move in fear of throwing up on the spot.

"What?" He says calmly, not liking my tone, but his voice is laced in concern.

"I-I..." I can't finish, stomach heaving, and I try to run to the bathroom down the hall. Due to my dumb hangover, which I am assuming caused the nausea in the first place, I slip blindly and end up doing an echoing belly flop on to my hardwood hallway floor.

Zayn, who has been running after, stops when I land because I throw up on the spot. Projectively vomiting down the hall and all across the floor, unable to stop. It's not like I've eaten, so this shouldn't be happening quite as violently or as prolonged.

When I finally finish, dead tired again and out of breathe Zayn slowly makes his way over, obviously hating the sight and smell of it all. "Rosie?" He questions, seeing my eyes halfway open.

I hum as a response, my throat burning roughly, and Zayn picks me up, side stepping the puddle and bringing me to the bathroom.

"Rose... Have you finished..uh..." He trails off, trying not to say the word just in case my stomach responds badly. I nod slightly, sticky and tired.

He nods as well and gets the bath running while I sit on the toilet, the house quiet except the water hitting the tub. After a bit he helps me stand and I lean against him. "Rose... I'm going to strip you now, alright?" He asks kindly and I shrug.

"Apparently you've seem me naked anyway." I mutter sourly and he sighs, stripping me quickly. He sets me down in the massive tub and I just lay against the foaming bubbles, eyes shutting peacefully.

I can hear him tromp out and clean up the mess, gagging occasionally. When he comes back I'm already asleep, trying to figure out last night.

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