-Elizabeth-
There's something about waking up in Los Angeles that feels like stepping into a dazzling movie set. The sun is already flexing its golden muscles, bathing our room in warmth. I roll over to find Zayn still asleep, his tousled hair and peaceful face so charming it steals my breath. I can't help but admire how he looks in the soft morning light—definitely not a zombie neighbor, but more of a dreamy leading man.
After a few moments of careful contemplation (read: staring at him), I nudge him awake. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead! The City of Angels awaits!" I declare, my voice playful, though the sunlight coming in feels like an alarm clock from an indie film.
He groans and squints, propping himself up on one elbow, and I can't help but grin back at him. "You say it as if it wer
