stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 68

Charlotte

I wake up in a fog where I'm not sure what I dreamed and what really happened. But once my eyes catch on Harry's long mop of dark hair across the bed from me it becomes clear that the nightmare of sirens and police was actually real life.

Even though that all really happened I feel much better in the daylight. I remember the police mentioning that it was probably a coyote and that seems to make much more sense and seem more probable than it did when I was all riled up last night. I feel bad for looking so pathetically spooked in front of Harry.

It doesn't feel awkward, waking up in the same bed, and I've never been one to have guy friends so I'm surprised how comfortable I feel. I don't care that my hair is matted and I drooled on the pillow. I'm just happy Harry and I got some sleep after that whole ordeal.

The clock on the wall reads eleven and I'm shocked the early riser is still passed out.

I notice how serene he looks, even in his sleep, and how he seems to be in the exact same position he was in when I drifted off, laying on his back. It's kind of funny, seeing how different his sleep style is from Zayn.

Zayn is always all over the place, flailing around and ending up on the opposite side of the bed in the morning, while Harry is so still, rooted in the same spot. It's sort of like real life Zayn – frantic, never staying put — and real life Harry — steady, calm and rooted in place.

I'm thinking about how perfect the metaphor is when Harry stirs, green eyes darting up to meet mine and crinkling. "Oh, good morning."

"Good morning," I reply. "You slept in."

"I did," he nods, voice thick with sleep. "How'd you sleep?"

"Much better than the couch."  I say. "Thanks for letting me take over your bed. My room just has too many windows."

"Hey, they're all your rooms," Harry smiles.

"They're all Zayn's rooms," I correct him.

"Half yours once you two get hitched," Harry counters. "And no need to thank me, anyway. I just slept."

He stretches his arms and I'm reminded of something that's been on our to do list since he got here.

"Want to go to yoga?" Since I have inches to lose and thoughts to evade it sounds like a perfect escape. And Harry's eyes light up, which makes me realize it sounds perfect to him as well.

"I brought my mat, you know," he reminds me, popping out of bed much too quickly. "I'll look into the best studio around here."

And half an hour later I'm wearing my Lululemon yoga pants and a bright yellow tank that matches Harry's crazy Nikes and we're in the car en route to yoga class.

I like it much more than I thought I would. Harry made sure to find us a class for beginners and I don't feel out of place or like too much of a newbie, even when the teacher has to continuously correct my poses.

Harry always shoots me a knowing grin when she does, and I can't help but giggle at the way the teacher does the stark opposite with him. She praises him like crazy, and at the end of the class she literally gives him her number, with the pretense of telling him to take her other classes.

"She was so into you," I tease, once our sweaty bodies are back in the car and we're headed to his organic Mexican restaurant. I inspect the business card closer. "I think Tancy Edwards is in love with you."

"Tancy Edwards is a terrible yoga teacher. Most of your poses were great for a beginner. She didn't need to keep correcting you," Harry replies, with a shake of his head.