CHAPTER 2, kind've short.

CHAPTER 2:
Words could not describe how furious I was with Chris. The first thing being the fact that after he spilled his feelings for me he never called me. He never made an effort to try to work things out with me when I called his cell phone around a dozen times to try to work it out. And try to ask him why the hell he got his supposed "mistake" pregnant a night after he told me he wished he'd married me. So after those phone calls, I basically stopped trying with him.
Phil wouldn't talk to me about it, and I kind've liked it better that way. He knew what happened but he also knew that he was incredibly close with the both of us. So we just wouldn't bring it up and tried to get on with our lives.
The next two months I spent in my studio, trying to avoid the tabloid pictures of Gwyneth's growing belly while writing new songs. One was very fittingly titled "Tired".
Eight weeks after the last time I saw Chris, I got a phone call. "Hello hello hello, this is Scott Flynn, one of Jay-Z's assistants."
"Oh, hi." I said, holding the phone with my shoulder while I tuned a guitar.
"Yeah miss Zooey Jay-Z is having his 42nd birthday party this weekend in New York City and would it if you could attend."
This was a bit tough for me. I met Jay through Chris. They did a couple songs together, then I got to meet him and we collaborated a few times as well. He was such a great friend, but I was one hundred percent sure that Chris would be there. I closed my eyes and made a choice. "Uh, yeah, sure, I'd love to go."
One of the worst decisions I could ever make.

That Night.
Just two days later I was in the hustling and bustling big apple, in the back of a black sedan, sitting next to Phil, on my way to one of the biggest birthday parties you'll ever see. Phil smiled at me, looking down at my red mini dress. "Why didn't you get the slutty one?"
I smiled and slapped his shoulder. Yeah, my dress was short and a bit exposing, but I'm single. And I'm spiteful.
The line of celebrities getting out of their cars and onto the red carpet was so long, we didn't get out of the car until 20 minutes after we got there. Paparazzi were everywhere, screaming my name, bulbs going off right in front of my face. I put on an incredibly fake smile and tried not to look around frantically for Chris.
The next half hour was filled with posing for pictures on Jay-Z's red carpet, waving and smiling at other celebrities, having Phil hold my purse the entire time. When we got inside, it was nothing less than what you would imagine. People everywhere, club music blasting, romantic lighting, pictures of Jay's face everywhere you look. I smiled. This party screamed him.
I stayed close to the door. I don't know if it was because the entire room was so dark you could barely see and I needed some light to find my drink, or because I wanted to be ready to make a quick run for it if Chris tried to make a scene. I didn't think he would though, since he'd been avoiding me for ages now. What is it about men that makes them act like complete five year olds, and run away from their problems?
"There he is." Phil said, gazing into the room. "He's with Jonny."
"Is he looking at me?" I said, then realized I sounded like a fifteen year old high schooler.
Phil looked down at me and gave me a small nod. I nodded back, sighed, and made some conversation with the billionaire singers and supermodels around me. A few seconds later I felt two skinny arms wrap around my neck and a chin laid on my shoulder. "It's about time you wear something that shows of that sexy figure of yours."
It was Jay's wife, Beyonce.
I turned around and pulled her in for a hug, glancing down at her dress that barely concealed anything. "I know, you're usually the expert at that. Good to see you, love."
"I'm really sorry Chris is here." she said, looking behind me and I guessed she was looking at him. "I begged Jay not to invite him but he thought it'd be a big scandal if he didn't. Men are idiots."
"Tell me about it."
Hours past and rain started to pour in the cold, concrete streets of New York City. Phil had gone off to talk to Chris, and I was sitting at a small cocktail table with Beyonce and a friend of hers that would not stop telling me what a big fan she was. It was getting so late and I was so unbelievably tired that I was getting the urge to punch her in the face just to make her shut up. "Listen, it's getting late." I said, faking a yawn. "I should go home."
The two understood and kissed me goodbye. I had no idea where Phil had run off to and had no intention of hunting him down, thinking he could make it back to the hotel just fine. I walked out the door into the rain, happy it had started to pour because it'd chased all the paparazzi away. I shoved my hands into my pockets and began to walk back to the hotel, not caring at all about getting absolutely soaked. The rain was always a pleasure to me.
About a block away from the hotel I heard car tires screech behind me then a car door open, and thought nothing of it. Then, I heard my name being called.
When I turned around, like something out of a cheesy nineties movie, I saw Chris running towards me in the pouring rain. He stopped a couple feet in front of me. "Please, Zooey, let me explain everything." he panted. "I fucked up. This pregnancy was a complete mistake, and I've been so depressed about the whole thing these past couple of months I haven't been able to come up with the courage to speak to you. I still mean everything I said that night in the park. And that doesn't make up for anything I've done but please, you have to forgive me."
The rain was a suitable mask for the fact that I was now crying. I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't hurt him, so I took a step back to walk away from him. "No." I said aloud to myself. "No Chris, I can't hide how I feel anymore. I miss you like crazy and Chris, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So please, Chris. Let me forgive you and leave her. Leave her and be with me."
Chris was now wiping his eyes despite the fact that his entire body was soaked from the rain. He stared down at his shoes for what felt like forever, then the words I never thought I would hear left his mouth.
"I can't."
For a minute I thought it was the sounds of the city masking what he actually said, then he said it again.
"I can't, Zooey. I'm so sorry."
My mouth closed and opened again, and I felt like I'd taken the knockout blow. My legs felt like rubber and my throat completely closed up. I turned around and began to stumble away from him on my wobbly legs. He called after me a couple times but all I did in reply give him the finger. Our relationship was officially over.