Room 301 [Zarry]

following my heart, following you

"You're really doing this," she squeals, wrapping her arms around me. "I'm so excited for you! I know you are capable of such amazing things."

She looks so starry-eyed as she clings to my chest. I kiss the top of her head, cameras flashing. Columbia Records. The beginning of my story as a songwriter.

"What if people think you got me this record deal? I don't want the headlines to portray me in a bad light, critics might hold this against me."

These are things I shouldn't worry about, Zayn's voice keeps warning me in the back of my mind.

"No," she frowns. "You got this deal because you're talented and you deserve it. You could have signed with anyone Harry, shake those dark thoughts from your head right now." She gently taps my forehead, kisses the tip of my nose.

I chuckle and we fight our way through the crowd, pushing past nosy paps and people trying to interrogate Kit. "Katherine, what does this mean for you dating someone under your father's label? Are the two of you official? Do you plan on moving to New York?"

We keep our heads low, watching where are feet are going, careful not to trip over cracks along the sidewalk. I tuck her close, arm looped around her neck.

"That circular building with the needle downtown is Capitol Records," she informs me. "Stay away from there or my dad might get suspicious. He's so controlling. You won't see him much anyway but don't let him boss you around, that's your manager's job. There are several popular studios along Sunset-"

My stomach growls, stopping her short. We both laugh and she grabs my hand, entwines our fingers. "You need to try Pink's Hot Dogs. It's a Los Angeles staple. I must warn you though, you can bump into quite a few celebrities here."

Just getting close makes my mouth water, the smell of fresh chili and spicy mustard wafting through the air. There's a line out the door that curves around the building but I don't mind waiting. The sun is shining, not a cloud in sight. Kit is wearing a pastel yellow sundress with small white flower print, toenails painted bright pink. She always looks so pretty, stray hair tucked neatly behind her ears. Her large round, retro sunglasses are too big for her face, the frames slightly over-sized but she wears them well. She perches them on top of her head and the line starts moving, people thinning out as we get closer to ordering. I swear her eyes match the ocean, glimmering like diamonds in the mid-day sun. I wrap my hand around her waist, fingers gently resting there.

"You've made it feel like home," I say quietly, breaking our comfortable silence. "I was worried when I first got here that I wouldn't make any friends and that everyone would be superficial but you brighten every day. Each moment I spend with you is sweet. I hope this summer lasts forever."

I want to write a song about spending my first summer in LA with her, falling in love for the first time and the promise of stardom, the Hollywood sign winking at us in the distance. I can write about the hot, crowded concrete and busy sidewalks, days spent driving all the way to Malibu and digging our toes in the sand. The spritz of sea salt and the smell of sunscreen and mixed drinks and her strawberry shampoo. Maybe I'll wait a bit, describe the feeling of getting in the studio, the adrenaline of chasing my dreams and putting my words to music and hopefully hearing my voice on the radio.

We finally order and stroll around until a table is cleaned for us. I eat like I'm starved but she doesn't judge, just laughs and wipes a string of cheese off my chin with a napkin. She somehow has a way of doing everything gracefully, even eating a hot dog. I spill mustard on my white v-neck and she can't stop giggling as I groan, trying to wipe off the stain with a wet paper towel.

"This is a good shirt," I pout. "It's not funny."

"There are a billion white shirts in the world Harry. Just remember this moment and how silly it was. Okay?" She runs her fingers through my curls, reaches across the table to kiss the corner of my mouth.

"I love everything about you," I sigh happily. "Each moment I spend with you is magical."

"Harry," she blushes deeply, batting her eyelashes. "You're really special to me. Do you maybe want to take a drive on Mulholland Drive?"

"Yeah that sounds fun, let's stay out late tonight and watch the sunset."

Kit calls up her driver, has him pick us up at Pink's. We're on the East side of Los Angeles, not too far out from Beverly Hills but the drive to Mulholland is still almost forty minutes in the afternoon traffic. My place is not too far off Sunset, with views of the Hollywood Hills. Kit is originally a Bel Air girl, accustomed to luxury and shopping on Melrose, familiar with the drive westward towards the Hollywood strip.

"If we were driving from my old place it would only be a few minutes. I hate that Bel Air seems so close to you when it isn't. I mean we moved to Beverly Hills fairly recently which is good I guess, I can't complain really...I just miss our house sometimes. God, I sound so pretentious but there was more seclusion and everything there felt like my mom. Now everywhere my dad goes, he wants to be seen. He wants me to be seen."

"It's okay," I assure her, hand rubbing up and down her arm. "Does he have high expectations for you or something? What made him assume we were sleeping together?"

"God," she groans. "I don't know. He's overprotective and-" There are tears swimming in her eyes so I don't push it. She trusts me enough to keep the conversation going. "I think he has these weird fantasies about me, he doesn't want someone to take me away from him."

"You're his daughter," I state quite obviously. "That's so sick and perverted."

"Maybe I'm being melodramatic," she laughs uncomfortably, shifts in her seat. "He wants me to dress a certain way, act a certain way. When I was younger I didn't think much of it, him brushing my hair and braiding it and being affectionate. I'm an adult now, I understand limits. For example, he wanted to get me into modeling and insisted on doing the photo-shoot. I didn't really care, I just thought he wanted to take some professional head-shots or something. Although I did find it kind of exploitative...I never really wanted to do it."

"What happened," I ask considerately, reaching for her hand. "We don't have to talk about it."

"I don't know that I can," she shudders. "I was afraid to let men touch me for the longest time but I really let my guard down around you, it feels natural when we're together."

"I'm sorry he violated you," I whisper, mind filling in the gaps. "He's a disgusting man and I'll do whatever it takes to keep him away from you. I promise."

She nestles closer, lets me kiss the top of her head. All this time I assumed Kit was pure and innocent, I feel sick to my stomach as I realize how that was unfairly taken from her. I feel guilty, like there's more I could do, like I should have signed with Capitol instead.

"Kit...if he's around you more because of me, if he uses my music as an excuse then I'll find another label. It isn't a big deal."

"No, no! I wouldn't want that. There's something I do really want but I don't quite know how to ask you."

We've nearly reached our destination but I'm too enthralled by her to care. "You can ask me anything."

"They have these beautiful bungalows at The Beverly Hills Hotel, they have their own pool and everything and I've considered moving into one for awhile. It will be temporary until I can find a reasonable place. I just can't stay at home any longer."

"Okay," I reply hesitantly. "And you want me to move in with you?"

"Oh my gosh," she exclaims. "I knew it was too soon to ask, I feel so stupid. I'd never force you to do anything you don't want to Harry, I just-"

"That sounds nice," I smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Besides, following my heart means following you."