stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 41

Charlotte

I really like this dress. I feel like a princess. Zoe had instructed me to tell reporters it's Elie Saab and repeated the name twice condescendingly as I bit my tongue. I'm not horribly unfamiliar with designers; I am trying to be a model for God's sake.

I rattled the designer's name off to every interviewer on the carpet that asked what I was wearing, and someone from E! insisted I'd be on tomorrow's best-dressed lists.

It felt like a fairy tale, walking the carpet and posing again. We were both so much more relaxed, he already took home the biggest award of the night so there was no pressure and our only obligation now was to party. It also helped that I felt much more comfortable in this dress than the first one.

"You look like my very own Cinderella," he'd said the second we were alone in the car and I'd smiled because that was sort of who I felt like too.

Cinderella at the ball, with a Prince Charming with a Grammy.

It felt like he was a real prince too, with the amount of people that swarmed him at the party. Occasionally they seemed to want to talk to me too, but mainly because my date was the belle of the ball.

When my favorite song of the moment blasted from the speakers, a manufactured pop hit from a popular boy band, I had begged him to join me on the stuffed dance floor.

"I don't dance," Zayn shook his head, waving me off. But his eyes give away how much he'd had to drink and I knew it won't be hard to convince him.

I've obviously had too much champagne myself, since dancing sounded like such a great idea.

"You will with me," I smiled devilishly and started towards the dance floor on my own, knowing there was no way he would let me dance out there alone.

After bouncing around for a second and keeping eye contact with him he reluctantly followed, tipping his head back dramatically. He let me hop around him while he sarcastically pointed his fingers and shuffled from one foot to the other for the rest of the duration of the song and I could tell he was trying not to grin.

"Thank you," I smile sweetly once the song comes to an end.

"I can't deny you anything ever," he sighs and runs the back of his fingers gently down my cheek. "Do you need anything? Want another drink?"

I nod, my champagne flute is disappointingly dry, and follow after him.

It's a weird vantage point, being behind him in a situation like this, because I can feel all the gazes. It seems like everyone turns to stare at him or offer a congratulations, and sometimes afterwards their eyes linger on me. I'm the plus one of the belle of the ball.

"My lady," he says, handing over a fresh glass of champagne. I clink it against his glass of whiskey and we both take a sip that neither of us really needs.

But he just won a Grammy and I'm dressed like a princess and things like that just don't happen everyday.

~*~

Zayn is drunk.

So drunk.

He's so drunk that he's agreed to go to another after party, this one at a rapper's house. I'm just along for the ride, waiting on the curb to pile into SUVs with some random famous people and members of their entourage.

Joe says goodbye to us and pulls me into a hug, whispering conspiratorially. "Keep an eye on him tonight. I know he deserves it but I don't want him to get too sloppy."

"I will," I nod and give Joe a wink, before being lurched forward by the very drunk man attached to my hand.

"Charlie and I call this one!" He exclaims, as I offer Joe a feeble wave and climb in behind him.

I'm very drunk, but he is on a much different level. I almost wish I was there, but someone needs to be able to get us home later. Zayn is pulling me to him and insisting on making out despite a driver being three feet away, and I know if one of us were sober this wouldn't be happening.

But I roll with it, because he just won a Grammy and he's drunk and tastes like whiskey and the cigarettes he smoked while we waited for the car and even though that sinful mix should not be sexy it weirdly is.

When the car comes to a stop I'm happy to come up for air. I give the driver a quick thank you and follow Zayn into the massive house tucked up in the hills.

The first day we met he invited me to a house party and he told me he preferred them, and once we're inside it becomes clear he's much more in his element. These are the types of parties he attends, or used to attend, on a very regular basis, and despite being crammed full of people it doesn't feel like all eyes are on us like they were at the last one. House parties are just safer for him. He can be more anonymous.

There are assorted drugs everywhere. I'm not a sheltered prude, I do live in Los Angeles, but I'm surprised when he partakes in things I didn't realize he usually did.

We'd never really talked drugs before, mainly because I felt a little awkward discussing the topic when he had a past littered with rehab stints. One time I m told him I didn't like smoking weed because it made me paranoid, and that was about the extent of my drug knowledge.

He had agreed, at the time, but right now he's sharing a joint with a rapper.

He offers me some and I shake my head, and that's how I know how fucked up he is because Zayn Malik never fails to remember the smallest, most inconsequential things I've ever said. Sober he would definitely remember how I told him why I don't like smoking. He'd probably even remember what I was wearing and where we were when I said it.

I venture away to grab myself a drink and contemplate exploring the rest of the house, but Joe's words weigh on my mind. Keep an eye on him.

I conveniently keep forgetting the past my pretty boyfriend had before I was in the picture. Sure, I'd seen headlines and know the gist; he was wild and out of control for a while and did those stints in rehab. But I didn't have any reason to be invested in some singer's life, so I never really paid attention, and I definitely don't know any specifics.

But since I'm drunk, and pretty bored, I settle myself on the end of a massive leather couch, fish out my phone from my clutch and google.

I probably shouldn't, I've been so good about staying away from this stuff. But I'm curious, and he's deep in conversation and smoking with a big group of guys.

So I do, and find things about fighting in clubs and womanizing and being out all night and how "sources" say friends are worried about his behavior. But they always note he never missed a show, and how his professional life remained unaffected. That didn't change until I was in the picture.

The pictures are harder to see than reading the words. Zayn with his arm draped over girls... so many different girls. Zayn stumbling out of clubs looking, well, I look up from my phone to see him looking almost identical to the picture from two years ago.