stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 14

Zayn

Her makeup around her eyes is all smudgy and she sort of looks like a cute raccoon. I want to tell her that but I don't know if girls like that sort of thing so I suck in a breath and hold her stare.

"As of today I'm twenty-four. I've been in a lot of different places and seen thousands, no... maybe millions of faces. There is only one that has ever driven me as crazy as yours. And I mean fucking crazy, Charlotte. I haven't been able to get you out of my head. I haven't been with anyone else since you left on Monday."

"That was like four days ago, Malik. Not that impressive," she counters.

Because of course she would.

I regret the pathetic declaration, it's whorish but it is true.

"For me it is," I offer sheepishly. "The old me, I mean."

When she doesn't answer I add a hopeful, "everyone on my tour noticed. Knew something was up with me."

"That's sweet in a weird way." She's gone back to hiding facedown in the mattress and I idly run my hands through her dark hair.

"I know it doesn't sound like much. But I can promise you if you let me be yours there won't be another girl."

I mean it.

I can't believe I'm saying it.

But I mean it.

"Ever."

I'm hoping for her to peek out and give me a smile but she stays obscured in the blankets and I hear a little mumble.

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Which question?" I ask, a little puzzled. I just offered to swear off all other women.

Maybe she doesn't realize what a change that is, but on second thought I don't really want her to. The virgin and the... rock star. I hate the title but in this sense it applies. I couldn't even begin to estimate how many people I'd slept with.

I feel her move against the mattress and sit herself upright, folding her legs Indian style and running her fingers underneath her messy makeup. Once the dark smudges disappear it leaves her clean faced and I wonder why she wears it at all. Her big round eyes need nothing. I didn't know things like that were possible for girls but I would say she's even prettier without makeup.

"Why me?" It comes out so small, formed out of her full lips, from a face so beautiful that it makes me laugh.

She's not amused. Does she not see it? I've never really been around any girls that don't know what makes them beautiful. They usually know and they usually use it.

How do I explain how perfect she is? How I feel so much happier just being near her? How, aside from being an actual fucking gorgeous human, her personality manages to make me not only want to stare at her all day but also know every thought going through her brain?

While I've been wondering how to tell her she has decided to climb off the bed and has resumed her exit strategy. She's halfway to her purse before I'm up and blocking the door.

"If you're done laughing at me I'd like to go."

She's pissed. I've never seen her this pissed and that angry pout is irresistible. I want to kiss it but I bite my lip instead.

"I was laughing because of your dumb question," I explain. That sounded rude, and I instantly wish I could take it back.

"Asking you, Zayn Malik, why out of all of the groupies and girls you have amassed across multiple continents you are suddenly deciding you are wanting to make me your full time booty call is not a dumb question. The entire world knows you're a man whore! You've already admitted to me that going four days without sex is a massive deal to you," she says massive while flinging her arms around and it's so cute that I almost miss the rest of her angry speech.