Room 301 [Zarry]

a very special gift

I find myself standing on Sunset Boulevard, guitar case clutched in one hand. The start of summer is here, endless blue skies rolling overhead. I exhale, eyes landing on the Hollywood hills and the Hollywood sign, winking at me from its little peak. I smile, tuck my free hand in my back pocket, discovering a sheet of paper. My eyebrows scrunch together as I unfold it, unfamiliar number staring back at me. I find the nearest payphone, man cheerily answering

"Hollywood Towers, the friendliest hotel in Hollywood."

Soft laughter rattles me, sounds promising. "Do you have any vacancies?"

There's some rustling on the end of the line. "Sorry we're pretty booked right now, a lot of permanents. Zayn Malik has called 301 home for the last two years! Crazy huh? Right down the hall from Lana Del Rey...oh wait! You're in luck kid."

"Great," I exclaim. "I'm okay with the first floor."

"Even better," he chuckles. "Room beside Mr. Malik-"

Funny how life works, just yesterday I was leaving the quaintness and seclusion of Holmes Chapel. Now I'm staring at a billboard of the most beautiful man in Hollywood, with his cattered rebellious tattoos, long dark eyelashes and soft honey eyes. I smile, feel as though he's gazing right at me, his name sprawled out in large Helvetica letters

ZAYN MALIK: NEW WAVE R&B

"You still there," the man asks, pulling me from my daydream.

"Uh yeah sorry. Book me for a week please, I'm on my way now."

I manage to hail down a cab, gaze out the window, butterflies in my belly. "Newcomer," the cabbie asks, glancing in the mirror.

"Just got here today," I reply nervously, twidding with the rings on my fingers.

"No kidding," he snorts. "People moving here every second I tell ya, this city is bustling. We're living in the golden era of music. Saw that Malik kid on MTV yesterday, what a talented guy. So humble too."

He rolls down the front window, lights up a cigarette. "Where ya heading?"

"Hollywood Towers actually."

"Small world," he smirks, tapping at his cigarette. "Gotta keep am autograph book handy around there. Quite the place. Now there's nothing like the Chateau, if you want to get in trouble without anyone giving a damn then go to the Chateau Marmont son. You don't strike me as the mischievous type but if you are, pay it a visit. The castle on Sunset. Did you know Rebel Without A Cause was written there? James Dean jumped out a window," he chuckles. "Rumor has it Led Zeppelin rode their motorcycles through the hallways. Life, death, scandal and romance. That place has it all."

My mind is in a fog, it doesn't even clear when the car lurches to a halt and I dig around for cash in my wallet. The building looks so elegant, glass windows gleaming in the California sun, large palm trees planted out front. There's a chandelier in the lobby, swanky red velvet couches and gleaming hardwood.

I hop onto the elevator, knees shaking. My fucking nerves. I'm frozen in place when I step out into the hallway, eyes searching for 302. There's laughter down the hall, bubbly and full of happiness. Suddenly, there's a loud knock on a wall followed by a fit of giggles and blaring music. A door flies open, a small blonde stumbling around.

Then there's Lana, arm looping around her neck as she gives her a sloppy kiss, backs her up against the wall. I awkwardly clear my throat and the blonde girl blushes, gazes down at her bare feet.

"Hey," Lana gives a lopsided smile. "Interested in a threesome?"

"Lana," the other girl squeals, completely mortified. Her hair is a tousled mess, cheeks mauve with embarrassment. She's sporting a thin lace cami and matching shorts, sparkling butterfly pin in her hair. She gives a sympathetic smile, tries to tug Lana back in.

"This is Kit," she speaks for her, giving her eyes a roll. "She's shy but we're kind of exclusive or whatever-"

"Be nice," Kit scolds, voice still soft. Her tone is hushed, eyes like the ocean as she studies my face. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

"Harry," I say quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"It's okay," she assures, giving me a warm smile. Lana seems completely unamused, yawns before picking at her fingernails. "She's grumpy sometimes," she teases, ruffling Lana's hair. "Maybe we can all hang out tomorrow," she suggests cheerily. "If that's okay with you of course."

"Yeah that sounds nice."

She waves goodbye and Lana cracks a smile, arms wrapping around her tiny waist as she pulls her back inside, kicking the door closed with her foot. I chuckle and try out my room key, startled by another voice.

"What the fuck?" His eyes are bloodshot, hair messy as he gives me a strange look. "Is Kit in there? Cute little blonde?"

"Um...yeah."

"God," he groans, rubbing his temples. "They fuck every other week now."

There's a stretch of silence as he looks at me, tilts his head, half-smile on his face. My cheeks are burning from his gaze, I quickly turn to open my door.

"I feel like I know you," he whispers. I can still feel his eyes trained on me, my heart is beating like a drum. "Have we met before?"

I shake my head, unable to speak as he steps closer. His hand is on my shoulder. I suck in a breath, hands trembling. "That's crazy, I swear-" he touches my cheek.

He smells like expensive cologne and vodka, faintly of cigarettes and breath mints. My guitar case and duffle bag are sitting untouched on the carpet, shaking hand resting on the door handle. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "For making you uncomfortable."

"No! No, it isn't you. I'm just a bit overwhelmed," I say, lie smooth enough to buy. "It's probably best for you to sleep off thaf hangover."

"That obvious," he asks with a laugh, following me into my room. He makes himself comfortable, flops down on the chair in the corner, hands folded behind his head. "So you're a musician," he asks, twinkle in his eyes.

I try forgetting that he's there as I take my guitar out of my case and play, fingers strumming all the pain I've ever felt. He closes his eyes and I stop, heart dipping in my chest. He's so casual, I didn't even expect him to talk to me.

He sits up, chin propped on his clasped hands. "I think you have a very special gift."