stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 31

Charlotte

Sarah did an amazing job making my visions come to life. Her pictures didn't do it justice, and when I first walked through the doors on Saturday everything horrible about the night before faded away.

She caught every detail from all the ideas I'd amassed and managed to create something even better. I could see why she was a renowned interior decorator to the stars; every room in the house had been perfectly finished in less than two weeks.

And Zayn loved it. Or at least I think he did. He watched me take everything in just like he had when we were house hunting. Eventually he got bored and scooped me up to carry me to the bedroom after I got too hung up on the details in the library.

Of all the arranging and placing, I have to say where I'm settled at the end of the massive California King bed is her finest work. Because the view of the grand piano, with the windows behind it that looks out to the now black sky and sea, makes for the perfect place to be serenaded. I can see him perfectly sitting on the bench, shirtless, with a pair of black sweat pants hanging off his hips. He looks so perfect it seems unreal.

It took him a few minutes of tinkering to finally play one of his new songs. I don't know why he's so hesitant. He knows I know nothing about music and whatever he plays I'll adore. But once he plays a few chords and sings a verse I think I understand.

They're about me. At least, I think they are.

The first one is the most melancholy. It's clear he wrote it when he wasn't sure of us, and it gives me a glimpse into his mind back at the end of last summer.

There's mention of one of our first conversations, in the corner of that house party he invited me to the first night, when we got into a deep, drunken conversation about people only being their true selves when no one's watching. And the rest of the song sounds like it's written by someone in love who doesn't think they have a chance, which is exactly how I felt at the time.

The chorus is almost haunting, about not minding and knowing I'll never be his.

He looks so unsure when he finishes, his eyes turned down like he's scared of my reaction. Like he hasn't just sung sweet lyrics like an angel while playing the piano and looking like an actual dream.

I can't believe he'd ever think I wouldn't like it. I'm pretty sure it's every girl's dream to be immortalized in song.

"I love it." I say softly, causing his head to lift. His eyes light up from across the room and he smiles before biting his lip.

"You're sure?" he asks, peering up at me through those thick lashes. He looks so vulnerable. It's easy to forget that sweet song he just played will likely end up on radio stations all over the world.

"Of course," I say it through the widest smile, hoping he realizes just how sure I am.

He cutely gestures for me to join him, and I quickly oblige, crossing the space between us and straddling him on the piano bench. As time passes I feel so much bolder, less naïve and more secure in our relationship. My arms hook around his neck, and I lean back against the piano so that I can see his perfect face.

"Can I ask you a question?" It's my turn to feel a little shy, but I want to know something. "You don't have to tell me."

"I'll tell you anything," he leans forward and kisses my nose and I know he's telling the truth.

"When did you write that one?"

His eyes turn up at the corners, congruent with his grin. "Don't worry. It's about you, silly girl."