stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 9

Charlotte

Zayn has a certain image his management has formed for him, but I've learned pretty quickly that he's really very shy and serious.

A team has been crafting him to be the quintessential heartthrob. The fun, dangerous, wild kind that has the slightest hint of mystery attached. Everything I've experienced has only really validated the mystery part of that. I've gathered that he's a private person who has had their life's contents dumped out on display, and really struggles with that.

In the beginning I had wondered if he was reserved with all the girls on purpose, not giving too much of himself away. But I feel like after five months I've learned enough about him to know that I have always been spending time with his true self.

Knowing that was comforting, but even here on this perfect night it felt like he was keeping himself a certain distance away. I needed to find out if there was really a photo shoot. I wasn't bold enough to really think he came out here only for me, but I still wanted to know why he was lying.

As he excitedly pointed out constellations through a telescope I had to bite my bottom lip and remind myself this man is not mine. Those eyelashes that I swear are so long they reach his eyebrows are nothing I can lay claim to.

I'm borrowing him at best.

But he smiled so big when he spotted Jupiter, and he looked so proud to teach me where my astrological sign's constellation lay. I didn't miss the irony of it, watching this massive star light up looking at other stars while I was rooted to the ground.

This will only get harder.

I remember in the beginning I was so good at staying detached.

True, I'd never had a boyfriend and actually never slept with anyone before I met him so I had little to compare it to, but I was proud of myself for always staying so far removed. I credited it to keeping myself separate. When I was with Zayn I was Charlotte, the formal name reserved for people that don't know me well.

Effortless, ultimate cool girl Charlotte didn't mind being one of many. She snuck into hotel rooms and answered Zayn's late night booty calls like a pro. Charlotte always left first thing in the morning, sometimes without saying goodbye. Charlotte once had to sneak out of a car and walk three blocks to avoid paparazzi in five-inch heels. Charlotte knew this wasn't real life, it was just fun.

But the Charlie in me was a different story. Charlie would probably have waited until Zayn proposed to her to sleep with him, because that's how she envisioned that whole thing going since age twelve. Charlie would be appalled at the word booty call, and would want to sleep in and eat breakfast with him the next morning. Charlie would have fallen in love the night she had to walk those three blocks because of what happened after.

Because I told him it wasn't a big deal, I only had to get out of the car and walk three blocks for god sake, but of course I had tripped and busted my knee open trying to dodge photogs in the alley. The expression on his face had been adorable, and one hundred apologies spilled from his lips when he saw my bloody leg.

He had been so concerned and had left me to assemble the most assorted first aid kit he could gather from the hotel gift shop. He bandaged my knee up so gently and carefully, my leg may as well have been broken and not just scraped.

And he had looked so genuinely hurt when I made a joke about not booking any modeling gigs for a week that I instantly regretted it and spent the rest of the night assuring him I was teasing. I never booked modeling gigs anyway.

The Charlie in me, who I had been doing such a good job of keeping away, really fell that night.

Right now suspecting he only came to Los Angeles for me was Charlie's territory. I needed to get back into Charlotte mode.

"I know where the big dipper is," I volunteer, leaning up on tiptoe without the aid of the telescope and gesturing to a faint cluster. "I don't even need that thing. There!"

He tilts his head up and looks in the direction of my fingers, before shaking his head with a smug smile. "Sorry, Charlie."

My heart twitched. No. Nope. That isn't going to start happening.

"Charlotte," I remind him, gently.

"Sorry," he repeats, eyes dusting the ground.

It's the first awkward silence of the night and it's my fault, so I think quickly to rectify the situation.

"We're really close to my favorite dive bar."

"Really?" he seems to appreciate the change in energy.

"Would that be okay, you think? It's pretty dark in there, we can sit in the corner..."

"That sounds perfect," he pulls out his phone. "I'll get the car."

I sit back down on the bench, folding one leg underneath me and watch him from a few feet away. I need a new strategy to handle this.

Cool girl Charlotte is hanging by a thread.

He looks up from his phone, meeting my nosy eyes and gestures toward the parking lot. "Here in a minute."

How can someone look so good in a baseball hat?

"What time is it?" I ask, curiously. I haven't touched my phone since we left the hotel. He always seems to have that effect on me.

"Eleven thirty-five," he replies and I'm surprised how long we spent up here. I'm not sure how many people have walked by unnoticed, but for the first time I'm aware that there are a few other people walking around. I instantly feel protective and scan to make sure no one is doing a double take.

Fortunately, the dark mixed with the hour doesn't make anyone suspicious a celebrity is in their midst. He doesn't seem to care, and I wonder if taking him to a bar is a good idea.

I give the driver the address once we climb in and ask again.

"I'm sure. I want to be out." He pauses and his tongue darts out over his lips. My eyes catch on it and I swear I imagine when he adds, "with you."