It was a cold winter night and I was home alone watching scary movies. I'd normally watch them with Harry, but he's been acting strange around me lately.

He starts stuttering or tripping over his words when we talk. Or he'll just stand up and walk away from me at random times. I asked him what was the matter, but his response was just very odd, and it wasn't a viable reason.

Obviously it upset me a bit. I mean, Harry and I are best mates. Just best mates...

I've been having this thought lately. Does Harry like me? Is that why he's being so awkward?

I don't like Harry like that. We're just friends. Maybe I really admire the way his outrageous curly hair flops perfectly. And maybe I do love his deep, sea green eyes. I could stare into them forever. And his low, morbid voice that dragged on as he spoke, and how it sounded so sexy and rough in the mornings or when he was groggy. And his lips; so perfect and soft looking. I can just imagine them against mine. The thought made my own mouth water. And those hands. The things he could do with those hands...

Whoa, what am I saying? Harry and I are just friends; brothers. I don't like him in that way. He's straight, and I'm straight.

Okay, maybe I like him a little. And maybe that doesn't make me all that straight. But, he is attractive, right? It's normal to be attracted to Harry Styles. It's not like I'm in love with him.

Am I?

I was strolling along the pavement alone with the busy London traffic zipping beside me. I just needed to clear my head. I kept my head ducked low. Even though it was night, I was paranoid that fans would interrupt me as I trudged around my Mind Palace in deep thought.

I tugged my jumper tighter around my body as I made my way down the cold streets. I know I've been avoiding Zayn lately but I just can't do it anymore. I can't take the heart attack I get, being with him and knowing he isn't mine.

Because (cheesy enough) I'm in love with him. Of course I get stuck falling for my best friend; someone I can't have.

But I love every single thing about Zayn. I love the way he smiles with his tongue between his teeth and his voice when he sings, filled power and emotion. I love the way his body fits next to mine like a puzzle piece. I love his beautiful hazel eyes, and how easy I can get lost in them. I love his lips. Imagine them leaving kisses down my bo-

Stop! I really need to stop having fantasies about him. Not only is it slowly tearing me apart, but it's proper creepy... Then again, millions of girl round the world do the exact same thing. But I needed to get over him.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let a few tears escape. How can you stop loving someone? It was impossible to move on. I've been trying for two straight years. Or, should I say... Gay years.

There is another option, however... Would it be simpler if I just expressed my affection?

I think it'd be easier in the long-run, but not at the moment. I just can't stand the thought of rejection by my best mate. How awkward would that be?

Zayn Malik will never be mine. I'll never get to call him 'Babe' or take cute selfies with him for Instagram. Or know the feeling of kissing those perfect pouty lips of his.

I directed my tear filled gaze to my mobile phone; 23:11. I hadn't realized that I'd been walking for almost an hour to God-knows-where. I slid my mobile into the back pocket of my black jeans then began the tedious journey back to the flat I shared with Zayn.

I honestly had no desire to face Zayn in my condition. I was finding it increasing more difficult to put up a happy facade in his presence. I'm sure you can imagine how difficult it is to pretend something isn't bothering you when your heart is decaying.

Nonetheless, I arrive at the front door of our flat. I reached in my pocket for the keys, only to find that I had left them in the flat.

"Bloody hell," I exhaled under my breath, then knocked on the door

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