Veronica [Zarry]

and everything changed

My fingers brush through his tousled hair. He's snoring softly, cheek creased from the pillow.

I could get used to waking up next to this. I squint my eyes, read the clock and relax, realizing it's still early. I'm still blissed out, heart picking up speed as my finger traces the outline of his lips.

How is it even possible for someone to be this beautiful? Most importantly, how'd I get so damn lucky?

"I love you," I whisper, kissing his forehead. "More than I've ever loved anything."

I'm closing my eyes, waiting for my heart to settle down again but how can it when I've fallen so hard?

It was all so easy, so weightless I didn't really notice myself letting go. The fall didn't hurt. It's like I opened my eyes and looked at him and everything else was out of focus.

Zayn is different from Veronica. Subtle things but enough to make me curious. How is Veronica powerful enough to command a man's attention? How can she get up on stage and dance in front of strangers? How does she move with such grace and such ease, how can her body speak so loud? How can she entice you so easily, have you touching her like there's no tomorrow, have you throwing wads of cash her way? How can she be so seductive, silent but deadly, winking at you as ahe works the pole?

She could have a whole room of men fall at her feet and she wants it. You see it in the sparkle in her eyes and the way she moves those hips.

It's you gazing at her longingly, feeling overwhelmed by her beauty. You let her capture you as she steals glances, eyes following her as she abandons the pole. You're fully aroused by the time she sinks onto your lap, captures your breath and leaves you desperate for more.

You won't admit it because you want control but you revel in her beauty. It's impossible to deny how she makes you feel.

Your eyes can't look at anything else but her bronzed skin, the sweep of her lips, the gentle swell of her breasts. You touch her face, questioning if she's real and oh God, her skin is so soft, cheek melting into your touch, long, dark lashes grazing her cheekbones.

You'll risk it all for her. No matter the consequences.

Zayn is awkward little giggles and covering his face with his hands. Shy but sweet and honest. He's less intimidating; more open and sincere and there's a certain softness in his eyes.

There's something about him you can't quite explain. You catch glimpses of it when he smiles or when he reaches for your hand. Maybe it's vulnerability...maybe just sensitivity but he believes in true love. He's a hopeless romantic with a tattered heart. It comes from trusting too easily and wanting to feel something meaningful.

It's what keeps you mindful of his needs, it's why you're gentle and caring; why you find yourself falling more in love with him each passing second.

His love is never fake. Timid at times but so real.

You know it's real because he's scared. Love is scary. Love is sharing every detail of yourself with someone else, it's hoping they'll reciprocate feelings and that you'll both be better, happier versions of who you once were.

It's struggles and tears but lots of building and compromise.

I want to be fully committed to Zayn, I can see us being so good for each other, so in love.

As much as I love Veronica, I think my heart loves Zayn more.

He stirs, smiles sheepishly at me, sleep crusted in the corners of his eyes. I wipe it away and kiss the bridge of his nose.

The smile on his face has my heart reeling. I can't catch my breath.

"Last night was so amazing," he blushes. "No one has ever made me feel that good."

He cuddles closer, voice cracking on each word.

"I love you Harry."

I rub the small of his back comfortingly, reminding him how much I love him. A little signal that it's okay to cry.

How are we both so in love? How did it happen so fast? I swear we met and I blinked and I was confessing my feelings.

"You can't leave me like he did," he cries.

"I promise I'll never leave you Zayn."

I flip him over and he giggles as I pepper his face with kisses, pin his arms above his head.

"No touching," I steal his trick and he pouts at me. "I want you to tell me why it's easier for you to pretend than to be yourself."

"Because Zayn is nothing special."

"Woah. Want me to prove you wrong mister?'

He's laughing again, light and bubbly and I want to capture that sound in a jar and play it when I'm down.

"You think I'm playing with you," I tease, tickling his sides.

"Harry," he shrieks happily. "Harry stop, that's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," I chuckle.

"I c-can't breathe-" he's wheezing, gasping for air and I panic.

I stop, heart pounding in my chest. "Zayn! Babe relax. Breathe-"

"Gotcha," he smirks.

"That isn't funny you brat. I thought you were in danger."

"Harry," he sits up, touches my cheek, fingertips catching my tears. "I'm sorry. Please don't cry."

Usually I'm the one consoling Zayn. He kisses me softly at first but then passionately, cupping my face in his hands.

I wasn't expecting this but I like it. It seems like the perfect mix of Zayn and Veronica as he straddles my lap.

"It was just a joke, yeah? I won't do it again."

"You did tell me to stop," I frown. "Sorry for not listening."

"Don't be," he hums. "Can I tell you about him?"

"You can tell me anything you want Zayn, whatever you're comfortable with."

"The story started out the same way. He came in late one night, tired eyes and a wrinkled suit. He looked a mess, wanted nothing more than some more alcohol in his bloodstream and a handjob but then he spotted Veronica-"

"And everything changed?"

Once again, I'm taking his hands in mine and he's smiling down at our laced fingers.

He isn't so much still talking about the story. He's talking about us, he's talking about our story.

"And everything changed."