stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 51

Charlotte

"Shh!"

I woke up to a low hissing in the hum of my favorite accent and I'm not sure who he's quieting but I'm loosely aware that it means someone else is in our bedroom so I keep my eyes shut tight.

I wonder what time it is, because I can feel the sun through my eyelids. I'm not quite sure how this tour schedule works, and what time everyone needs to move on to the next destination. I wonder if sleeping on the tour bus would be easier, but I've heard Zayn complain enough about the state of beds enough to know my newly spoiled self wouldn't find the mattress to my liking.

"Alright, thanks." I hear someone else whisper back and can't identify the voice but it sounds like a woman's and then the door shuts and I can smell... flowers?

I'm too curious now, so I do my best to feign naturally waking up, complete with stretching my arms and a little groan.

"Good morning!" He says, his voice up an octave and brimming with excitement.

I delicately open my eyes to find nothing but red filling every corner of the room. I rub them with the backs of my hands to clear my vision and can better see a sea of roses.

"Zayn!" I exclaim, sitting myself up. "What the-"

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he says, stepping up against the side of the bed to lean down to kiss me.

Valentine's Day? I was so out of touch with the real world that the holiday

never crossed my mind. But someone in the room seemed to have been planning this for quite a while.

"Do you like roses? We never talked about flowers." He looks upset at that, eyes drop and shy away for a second and I quickly roll to my knees.

"I love them!" I say, now eye level and smiling to assure him. "Thank you. But I haven't got anything for you."

"You don't need to get me anything." He's so serious, his eyes narrow in that way I always used to find intimidating if not for his ridiculously pretty lashes. "Ever."

I vaguely remember the heavy conversation of last night and try to push it back. I need to focus on the intensely romantic gesture covering every surface of our fancy hotel room.

"How did you do this? How many flowers are in here?" I ask, delicately stepping to the ground and maneuvering my way around vase after vase of bright red roses.

"Uh... like, thousands?" he offers and I laugh but he's not joking, he's pinching his lower lip in his nervous way. "Is it too much?"

"I mean, yes," I nod, but my smile stays intact. "But everything about you is too much."

He doesn't take that how I meant him too, so I stop attempting to count how many vases are spilling over with at least three dozen roses each and know I need to reassure him that wasn't an insult.