Author's note:
So, as you can see this is a new story! It isn't affiliated with my other series in any way. I didn't want to be writing three stories at once but I couldn't get this one out of my mind and I just had to write it.

This story was largely inspired by Boys Don't Cry by Malorie Blackman. You don't need to read the book to understand this, it's not a crossover (although it is a good book and I recommend it!). This fic won't be completely like the book, I was just inspired by a certain aspect of it's plot.

I'm trying out a new writing style with this one which is quite exciting for me.

Reviews/favourites/follows will be appreciated!

"And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."
- Haruki Murakami

18th January 2016

Kat

'Samantha Clayton, star of cancelled reality show Clayton Brood, has shocked everybody after a photograph was leaked to the press of her using cocaine at a party. This comes just weeks after the 25 year old was arrested for driving whilst under the influence of alcohol.

"21 year old Benjamin Clayton, Samantha's brother whom also starred in Clayton Brood, exclusively told us: "I've given up trying to get Sam to sort herself out. We all have. She's become such a disgrace and she doesn't even care. We want the old Sam back, but it's only her that can change things now."'

I drop the newspaper onto the counter and sigh, wondering whether or not I should call Samantha and see how she is. There's probably no point. She hasn't answered her phone to anyone in the family for weeks now, not even our parents, so I doubt she'll talk to me, especially after this new piece of information about the life she is living.

I stare down at the photo attached to the article, ignoring the drugs and only seeing the empty look in Samantha's eyes. How did it get to this point? How did we all let her spiral out of control so much? It's not fair on her to live like this, and it's not fair on us having to worry about her so much.

Around me, the diner is quiet and empty of customers. Technically, considering we're in London, the diner should be called a café but my boss is American and insists on this place being like ones he grew up going into. It looks like an actual American diner too, with the black and white checkered floor, the red walls with the US flag pinned up, and the red leather chairs. The diner is open 24/7 and tonight I'm the only waitress on this shift.

The bell above the door rings as a group of six people enter, laughing loudly and stumbling their way over to a booth. I slide the newspaper away from me and watch the group, waiting for them to settle down and look through the menu before I go over to serve them. They're all clearly drunk, probably having come from the nightclub down the road like most of our late-night customers do.

I realize that I recognise two of them. The guy with light brown skin, a handsome face, thick and messy dark hair, and wearing a leather jacket is Zed Benedict. Everybody knows who he is: he used to be an actor when he was a kid and even though he hasn't done anything in years, he's still constantly in the press. Draped across his lap is Collette Marshall, a beautiful dark-haired catwalk model.

I don't want to namedrop, so let's just say that I've met my fair share of celebrities over the years – one of the perks of being on a reality TV show growing up – which means that I don't really get starstuck anymore. Smoothing my hands down my short, light pink pinafore with ruffles at the bottom, a uniform I hate wearing, I grab my notebook and pen and walk over to the group.

"Hello," I greet them, forcing a smile onto my face. It's late and I'm exhausted so it's hard to keep looking so cheery all the time when I'm working. God, I hate having night shifts. "Welcome to Reuben's Diner. My name is Kat and I'll be your waitress tonight. What can I get you?"

As they listed a number of fizzy drinks and food orders, I wrote it all down. It's a good job that I can write fast otherwise I would have missed half of that. Just as I'm about to turn around and leave I see Zed Benedict pull a cigarette out of his coat pocket and put it between his lips before pulling a lighter out of his other pocket.

"Excuse me," I quickly say. "You're not allowed to smoke in here." I mean, what an idiot, right? It's against the law to smoke inside public places, he should know that by now. Besides, I think smoking is an awful habit and I can't stand the smell so there's no way I'm letting him smoke around me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Zed snaps in that American accent of his. He gestures around the diner as he says, "There ain't even anyone else in here, what damage will it do? Just let me have a fucking cig."

I grit my teeth stubbornly. To do a waitressing job you need to be able to stick up for yourself and deal with difficult people, so I definitely have experience with customers like Zed and I am not going to take any of his shit. "You're not allowed to smoke in here," I repeat. "You'll have to go outside if you want to."

"What the fuck? It's freezing out there-"

"Zed," Collette speaks, rolling her eyes. She has a little smirk on her face as if this is highly amusing, as if her boyfriend isn't being totally rude to me, a stranger. "Come on, baby. Just drop it, it's not worth it."

Zed grumbles to himself a little but concedes, putting both the cigarette and lighter away again. Satisfied, I walk away to give their order to Donna the chef, feeling Zed's glare following me across the diner.

Wow. What a dick.

After I deliver their food and drinks, the group stays for at least an hour, much to my annoyance. They're loud and giddy and honestly they just give me a headache. I occupy myself by cleaning the other tables in the diner – which were already spotless in the first place but whatever – and listening to Donna shout at her teenage son over the phone. Apparently he's been suspended from school. Again. I do feel sorry for Donna, she always seems so stressed out because of her family. I can definitely relate to that.

No other customers come in and I keep an eye on the clock. Half an hour before my shift is over, Collette and the rest of the group leave with Zed remaining behind on his own. I watch him brooding, finishing his drink and staring into thin air. He still looks angry and I wonder why. Maybe he's just one of those people.

When he finally stands up to leave, I see him rifling through the pockets of his black, ripped skinny jeans. Getting a full view of him now I can't deny that he's hot and I can totally understood why girls always go crazy over him, from what I've seen in the press. He finds what he's looking for and pulls a set of car keys from his back pocket.

Visions of a car crashing and the driver dying flit through my mind. It could have happened to Samantha if the police hadn't seen her and forced her to pull over. What the hell is Zed thinking?

I rush over and snatch the car keys out of his hand. Seeing his bewildered expression, I defend my actions fast. "You are clearly drunk, there's no way that you can drive yourself home. Sit down and I'll call you a taxi."

"What about my car?" He points out the obvious in a slow drawl. "It's parked out there." He points out of the front window towards the diner's small car park. I can just see a black sports car that must have cost a fortune. Definitely not the kind of car to driving drunk.

"It'll be fine out there. I'll leave a note for my boss so he knows not to call a tow truck. Here. Hold out your arm." Confused, he does as I say. I grab my pen again and push the sleeve of his jacket up his arm. On his arm, I write my mobile number whilst asking myself what on Earth I think I'm doing. I have never done this for a customer before, but I was always taught to do the right thing, and isn't that exactly what I'm doing? I'd do the same for someone who wasn't as attractive as him too.

"Call me in the morning and we'll meet up so I can give you your keys back. Okay?"

Zed lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh before returning to his booth and slouching into the seat. "Call me a taxi then."

As I head into the back of the diner where my phone is in my bag, I notice Donna watching me. She has her arms folded under her big chest, an eyebrow raised. A strand of her grey hair hangs limp down the side of her face. "I saw that."

"Saw what?" I ask, unlocking my staff locker and grabbing my phone.

"That was a nice thing for you to do sweetheart, but don't get involved with him. That boy looks like trouble and a good girl like you shouldn't be around people like him." She speaks with care, giving me a concerned look.

I love Donna. She's been like another mum to me ever since I started working here in September, and she is just the loveliest person ever to work with. "I'm just keeping his keys so he doesn't kill himself or anyone else. Don't worry about me, Donna. I'll be just fine."

I call a taxi for Zed from the most trusted taxi company in the city (in my opinion anyway) and go back out front. I feel kind of surprised when I see that he's still here, I guess in some way I thought that he may have made the bad decision of walking home or something in his drunken state of mind.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks me as I sit down across from him, giving my aching feet a rest. "You don't even know me."

"So? I'm not going to let you get into a car accident. Isn't it just the decent thing to do?" I reply.

"I guess," he shrugs his shoulders. I get the feeling that he wouldn't do this for a stranger if the roles were reversed, which is a little sad really.

We sit in silence until the taxi arrives and he leaves without a thank you or a glance back at me. I look at my watch and sees that it's almost 2am, the time my shift ends. I can't wait to get home and drop into bed straight away, but I dread the thought of having to be up for a 9am lecture at university. I hate that I barely ever get a good night's sleep, but it can't be helped. I need the money – my halls accommodation is paid for by my trust fund, but I have to work this stupid job to be able to afford food and toiletries.

I look down at Zed Benedict's car keys, still in my left hand. Zed was so rude to me and now I have no choice but to see him again.

Why did I do this to myself?

19th January 2016

Zed

The cat is the first thing I see when I wake up. He's spread out on the floor, his black fur messy as usual and his yellow eyes staring straight back at me. I realise that I'm laid on my stomach on my bed, half my body hanging off. My head is pounding in pain, like the beat of a drum.

I clamber out of bed, a plan of action in my mind: take some painkillers, drink three cups of coffee, and try and eat some toast. Boo Radley, the cat, follows me into the kitchen and meows loud enough to let me know that I have to feed him first before I do anything for myself.

I hate the damn cat. He's not even mine. When I moved to London with my brother Will and bought this apartment two years ago, he spotted a stray kitten wandering the streets and just had to take him in. He's a big softie, my brother. Will must have left early today if he didn't even have time to feed Boo Radley.

Once the devil cat is fed and I've taken some painkillers, I get the kettle boiling.

God, I barely even remember last night. The whole time spent in the club after my fifth or so shot is fuzzy, the night only becoming a little clearer when we got to the diner. I think maybe I had food? I definitely remember food. I remember a blonde waitress too. What did she look like? I think she was pretty. I don't know. A memory of her writing on my arm comes to mind.

I look down at my arm. In black ink, neat writing says: 'I have your car keys', followed by a phone number. Oh, right! She took my keys from me and called me a taxi. I remember that now.

I turn back to the kettle, deciding that once I've had some coffee I'll call the waitress – whose name I don't remember at all – and get my keys back. The sooner the better, I just want it over with and my baby back in her reversed parking spot downstairs.

The phone on the living room wall rings, setting off another flinch of pain in my head. I curse and head to answer it, knowing it'll be someone from the apartment building's staff – the phone only connects to them.

"Mr. Benedict," I hear Ray say. Ray is one of the security guards here, the only one who tolerates me when I'm coming through the lobby downstairs drunk most nights. "There's a young lady here to see you. I told her that you haven't approved a visit, but she's refusing to leave without me calling you, sir."

"Who is it?" I ask. The only person I can think of is Collette but security know to always let her up, they've been doing so since we got together a year ago. The only other person would be Kate, but she has a key so they'd just let her up too.

"She says that her name is Chloe Taylor, sir. Should I let her up?"

Chloe Taylor… For a second, the name isn't familiar at all but then her face comes back into my mind. I had a brief fling with her almost two years ago. It only lasted a month or so and I haven't seen or spoke to her since so why is she here?

My curiosity gets the best of me. "Sure, send her up."

Pushing coffee to the back of my mind, I head into my bedroom. There's no way I'm going to answer the door in just my boxers. I mean I could, but as soon as Chloe sees my hot bod she'll probably want me again and I can't cheat on Collette again. She'll kill me.

I pull on some jeans and a loose t-shirt and walk over to the front door. I open it and wait a minute or so until the elevator doors open and Chloe steps out. She's exactly as I remember her, pale skin and light brown hair, a little curvier than I remember but she still looks good.

Chloe isn't alone. She pushes a pram out of the elevator and I can see a baby asleep. I don't look at the baby for very long; I'm not a baby person, I never have been. Is it Chloe's? Or her younger brother or sister? Is she babysitting?

"Hey, Chloe," I say, giving her a slow smile. I may have a girlfriend, but there's nothing wrong with a little flirting, right? "Long time no see. How have you been? Come in."

Chloe meets my eyes and I notice that she looks tired, dark circles under both eyes. She's not wearing any makeup either. "I don't need to come in, I won't be long," she tells me, standing in the small area between the elevator and my apartment door. There's no corridor as this is the only apartment on this floor. "I have to go soon, I'm meeting somebody, so… I suppose I'll just get straight to it."

"O-Kay," I say slowly, wondering what she's going on about. She's acting like we haven't not seen each other in so long. "Go ahead."

She drops a large pink bag onto the floor beside the pram and nods her head towards the baby. "This is Maisie. Our daughter. She's yours, Zed."

"Excuse me?" I blurt out, clearing my throat. Did I hear that right? She can't have just said what I think she said.

"You're the dad," Chloe continues, looking upset. "I've been looking after her by myself since she was born. My parents kicked me out when I told them I was pregnant. It's too hard, Zed. I can't do it anymore, I just can't cope. I've left some things in her bag, as well as her birth certificate, and instructions of her daily routine."

"Chloe, what are you talking about?" I ask angrily, panic building up inside me.

"I love Maisie so much, she's my whole world. But it's too hard. I'm so stressed out and I'm scared of what I might do. She's better off with you anyway, you can provide for her in ways that I can't. I'm sorry for doing this, Zed. I know you'll take good care of her."

"Chloe-"

She backs away from me and the baby and presses the button for the elevator. The doors open straight away and she steps in. "Chloe, don't you dare do this." She's crying and repeats over and over that she's sorry before the doors slide closed and she's gone.

I'm numb, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I look down at the sleeping baby. It has slightly tanned skin and a head of dark hair. It must be about one years old if it really is mine. Is it even possible? Was Chloe telling the truth?

Is this… My daughter?

Whether it is or not, I'm stuck with it for now. What the hell am I supposed to do with a baby?

Fuck.