Keira

Score: Selena Gomez Feat. ZAYN - I'm Sorry We Lied

I blink away the angry tears, threatening to spill from my eyes. I lean my back against the wall, trying to steady my ragged breathing.

Son of a bitch!

Anger gripping at my throat, I stomp toward the service lift, still clutching the uniform jacket in my hand. Once inside, I press the button for the -1 floor. I can't go back to the conference room like this. I can't face Jeanine, while I'm this angry. Scratch that, I don't feel like facing her at all. All I want to do is pack my bags and get on a plane with Lisa tomorrow morning, and to go as far away from Benjamin, and this fucking job, as possible.

That is exactly what I am going to do. I'm gonna call Jean and tell her I can't do this. I won't do this. I want to go back home and not have to see Benjamin, or any of them, ever again.

A sigh rips off my chest, as I step outside of the lift on the -1 floor. I fumble with the jacket, folded in my arms, searching for the name tag, but I can't find one, so I just drop the jacket off in the laundry room, and then walk straight into the kitchens.

I walk into the organized chaos, alive with the haste of lunch prep, with people running around, shouting orders, and the sounds of knives chopping, pots clanking, and broths boiling on stove tops, mixing into a symphony of their own.

"Good morning, miss Vough!" A waiter, carrying a tray of leftover pastries from breakfast greets me. I nod in his direction, as I walk past him, grabbing a chocolate croissant from the tray in his hands and shoving nearly the whole thing into my mouth. The sugar instantly works its way into my body, helping to calm down my still-shaken nerves. I take my second, and last bite, from the treat, and lick my fingers, as I push the far door of the kitchen open with my hip, and walk into the empty hallway towards the delivery area. With a mouth, full of chocolate and pastry, I walk outside onto the ramp, used for unloading the daily groceries. It's currently deserted, just as I had hoped it would be. Despite the Spanish heat, suddenly enveloping my body, as I step outside of the air-conditioned hallway, I feel a sudden chill running down my body. I wrap my arms around my torso, and, for the first time since I left Benjamin's room, I take a really deep breath.

"In through the nose, out through the mouth," I murmur to myself, as the oxygen and the sugar, running through my bloodstream reach my jumbled brain.

I take my phone out of the pocket of my jacket. As expected, I have two missed calls, and at least a dozen texts from Jeanine, but I ignore them, as I pull up Jean's number.

For a second, I just stand there, with my thumb hovering over the dial button. The Spanish sun is hitting my face, its rays caressing my cheeks. I can feel my anger slowly ebbing away in waves, and my racing mind calming down.

It's been one full day. Just one. It's been a hell of a roller-coaster, but, it's been just one fucking day. I can't give up this quickly. I've worked so hard to be here, and, deep down, I know Jean's given me this opportunity because she truly believes in me. She believes I can manage. I can't let her down. I can't go running back with my tail between my legs. This is just a job. And I don't want Benjamin to think that I ran off, because I got scared or intimidated by him. I won't give him that pleasure. The son of a bitch's crossed a line, but I am a big girl. I can handle myself. I am older than him, for fuck's sake! He's just a spoilt little boy, who's gotten famous by chance.

But then my mind wanders back to our first encounter in Paris and how different he had been back then. So...sweet and nice. He seemed more...real, more genuine back then. Since I met him yesterday, he's been a different person. A cocky, arrogant, and hands-down unbearable boy. And I can't help but wonder how can someone change so much over such a short time. Or, had he acted like he had back in Paris in the hope of gaining something out of it? Like...me?

And I was so quick to give in, so desperate to get out of the hotel, away from my mundane life, that I had fallen right into it...Even if I hadn't admitted it to myself at the time, I was so flattered that someone like him - charming, young, and good-looking - could express any interest in someone like...me...

How could I be so fucking stupid?

I feel the angry, bitter tears burning my eyelids, but I don't have the time or luxury to allow myself to cry. My phone buzzes in my hand. Startled, I look down to see that Jeanine's trying to reach me again. I don't bother to pick up. I leave it to ring till it goes to voicemail, and then I slide it back into the pocket of my jacket.

With one last, deep breath, I turn around and walk back inside.

The hallway on the first floor is already packed full of people and cameras, as I make my way back to the conference room. The door is open, and I squeeze through the crowd, pushing to get inside. I take a step to the right and press my back against the wall next to the door, trying not to attract much attention to myself, as I scan the room. Luckily, there are so many people inside that I don't think anyone would notice me.

All but one of the seats at the long conference table are now taken. My eyes instantly fall on the empty spot, where Benjamin is supposed to be sitting. My stomach drops. There was a part of me, which had hoped he'd have made a miraculous appearance after our little rendezvous up in his room. The press conference is clearly having a late start, and I wonder if Jeanine is holding it off on purpose, waiting for Benjamin.

Speak of the devil, I shift my gaze to Jeanine, and my eyes instantly meet hers, narrowed to tiny slits in her face.

So much for not getting noticed. The look on her face could incinerate me.

I straighten my shoulders, trying to swallow back the bile, rising in my throat, as I maintain eye contact. But she moves her gaze away first. She slides her eyes toward the door, and her face suddenly lights up, a slight smile lifting the corners of her lips upwards.

There's only one reason why she'd be looking like a child on Christmas morning right now.

And then I feel him. My senses get enveloped in his presence, the citrusy fragrance of the designer body wash, created exclusively for Lavet Hotels fills my nostrils, making my mouth fill with saliva. His warmth hits me like the Spanish sun outside, as he walks through the door past me. He somehow manages to attract everyone's attention in the packed room. People step aside, making way for him to pass through, like he's some fucking god or something.

My stomach clenches at the sight of him. I still can't believe what happened upstairs, it feels like a distant nightmare, especially now that I see him here. He looks like the fucking Golden Boy Jenaine is so desperately trying to sell to the press, despite the rumors that are following him around. He looks all proper and clean-cut, fresh out of the shower, with his hair wet and tousled, wearing a crisp white T-shirt and joggers, his gait bouncy and confident as if he hasn't a single care in the world, as he makes his way toward the long table.

A teenager's wet dream personified.

He reaches the table and slides into his seat, leaning to whisper something into Garry's ear.

I have always been a really bad lip reader, so I shift my focus back to Jeanine, who steps in front of the table. I don't know what powers this woman possesses, but, the moment she does so, the room, buzzing with the excited voices of way more people than Lavet Hotels' safety rules allow for, instantly goes silent.

"Welcome to the first official press conference of The Summer Crush Tour," she says, her voice smooth and soft, a pleasant smile stretching her lips.

Excited rustling and wild flashing of cameras.

"The band is going to take questions for exactly half an hour. Please be respectful of that. They don't have time for more. They need to prepare for tonight's show. Then, management will step in and I hope that your curiosity about the tour will be further curbed by them," she smiles and waves her hand toward a group of people, sitting in a row of chairs, facing the rest of the room, near the table.

"Now, let's begin with the first question."

Chaos erupts in front of the table, as people start shouting questions. Jeanine points at a reporter and he asks something about cancelled concert dates in Portugal. As Josh begins to speak into his microphone, I feel a burning sensation on my face.

And there it is again. That magnetic sensation, as I slide my gaze to Josh's right and my eyes are instantly met with Benjamin's.

I can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the only telltale sign of the state I found him in less than an hour ago. His face is drawn into an impenetrable grimace. I am vaguely aware of the fact that Josh is still talking, but it feels like the world has gone into mute, everyone moving in slow motion.

A slight frown forms on Benjamin's face, cracking the stony facade, and two deep lines form between his brows. His lips move in a silent "I'm sorry," and, this time, even I can read it.

I shake my head slightly, my eyes never leaving his, letting him know that he is not excused, and then I turn around and exit the room.

*************

"Who the fuck are you texting?" I slur at Lisa, who's been on her phone all afternoon.

We are on our third Margaritas, as we are lying by the outdoor pool, soaking in the rays of the afternoon sun.

After I left the press conference, I rushed to Reception to collect the new key cards for the sixth floor. By the time I had gotten back, the band had already left the room, and three men and one woman, who looked oddly familiar, were sitting in their chairs, taking questions from the press. Still too pissed to sit around and wait for this charade to end, I found Jack and his team, handed the cards over to them, and told the team I was off for the rest of the afternoon.

Lisa and I had plans to spend the evening together, anyway, before her flight early tomorrow morning. Thank God, the band is off on a tour of Barcelona and the surrounding area, and then they will be heading straight for the stadium for their concert tonight, so, apart from taking care that their entourage is well-fed and has access to the conference rooms and an unlimited bar, there's nothing much for me to do today.

Which is a God-sent, given the morning I've had.

"No one," she says quickly, shaking her head.

I lift my brows at her.

"OK, OK, It's just Tony," she giggles, rolling her eyes.

"Give me that," I reach for her phone, but she lifts her hand in the air, away from my half-hearted attempt at taking her phone away.

"I can't believe you, Lisa!" I pout, folding my arms over my chest and crossing my ankles. "I'm in serious trouble right now! I need advice! I need some Lisa wisdom in here, and you haven't stopped texting for the last half an hour! Did you even hear anything I said in the past half an hour?"

"Yes, of course! You've been telling me how, after you somehow snogged the person, whom GQ voted Sexiest Man Alive, in fucking Paris, you then ended up in his bedroom, while he was butt-naked, and he tried to pull you into bed with him!" She blurts out in a single breath, without tearing her eyes from her phone, her fingers dancing vigorously over the screen.

"Lisa!" I swat at her hand and she nearly drops the damn thing. "That's not the point! He was high as fuck! He was smoking in his room! I was supposed to take him to work! He was so disrespectful! And the me, ending up in his bed part? It wasn't consensual!"

"Now, that is fucked-up," Lisa says, resting her hands in her lap. "Though you said he did apologize."

"It wasn't an apology," I say, taking a sip from my Margarita. "He just mounted it across the room."

"Well, he was in a press conference, with tens of cameras literally pointed at him! What did you expect? Some grand gesture? Would that have made you feel any better, babe?"

"No, I don't think so...," I frown. Of course, it wouldn't have.

"Yeah, I thought so," Lisa's eyebrows pull in, as her fingers start tapping away on her phone.

"Who am I kidding? I am nobody to these guys. I'm not expecting chocolates and peonies from him...I just want him to be respectful of my boundaries and feelings. You know, as you would expect even from any human being."

A faint blush erupts on Lisa's cheeks, as her fingers threaten to set the screen of her phone on fire with the speed that she's texting.

"Alright, that's it!" I reach with my hand across my chaise lounge, aiming for her phone, but I knock her glass, perched on the armrest of her chair instead, and almost spill the Margarita all over her lap, but she's way too fast. She jumps to her feet and then tosses the phone on her towel, before jumping into the water, splashing water all over my towel and legs.

I let out a yelp, as the cold spray hits me, and then I am on my feet, as well, taking a leap into the water. Lisa and I chase each other around, giggling and splashing each other, until the tension of the day finally dissolves.

It's long past midnight when I finally make it to my room. The Flying Benjamins' show is over, and the band must have returned already, but I don't care. I don't even want to think about them. After the pool, Lisa and I went to her room, and we ordered room service and more margaritas, and she made me take an oath that I wouldn't talk about Benjamin anymore that night. We talked about Lisa and Tony's wedding, instead, which helped me really get my mind off things and focus on my friend instead. As she fucking deserves. This weekend was supposed to be all about her. It was supposed to be her birthday present, and I almost ruined it all with all the drama around work and...and Benjamin.

Now, as I'm trying clumsily to unlock my door, the anger and frustration from this morning is replaced with the buzz of five Margaritas and the wonderful feeling of being a very involved bridesmaid.

I finally manage to open the door and turn the lights on, and I nearly jump in my place with surprise.

Because the biggest bouquet of pink peonies I have ever seen is waiting for me on the console table next to the wall at the end of the hallway. It's so big that it's sprawling over the table, miraculously balancing dangerously close to the edge.

I walk towards the bouquet, my tipsy, tired brain too jumbled to produce any reasonable thoughts like, What-the-actual-fuck?!, for example.

Because, somehow, I know. I am sure it's from Benjamin.

There's a card inside, and I reach for it, my hand shaking slightly, as I open it. A simple message is scribbled on the inside.

I'm sorry. -B.

There's a box of chocolates, lying on the table next to the bouquet. I haven't noticed it until now, because the bouquet has had my attention occupied.

I run my hand over the lid of the box of chocolates, a smile creeping onto my face.

How the hell does he know that pink peonies are my favourite flowers and that these are my favourite chocolates?

And how the hell did he manage to arrange for them to be delivered from England?!