“Pick up, pick up” I mumble to myself as I pace the hotel room, phone pressed to my ear.

It's currently 1am and I'm attempting to get through to Zayn... for the fourth time. Except what I don't realise, is when I typed in Zayn's number to the keypad this time, I misclicked a digit, meaning I'm in fact not calling Zayn… but instead, you.

I come to a halt in front of the large floor to ceiling window when the call goes through, only to be met with the sound of a tired, raspy female voice that I don't recognise.

This isn’t Zayn, so... who the fuck is on the other line? Yet, I can’t bring myself to hang up.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammer out, unsure of what to say. "I didn't mean to wake you- I was just trying to get through to my friend"