More Than What Meets The Eye (One Direction - Niall)

Chapter Thirty Eight

I stare at the tea in my hands, praying that if I wish hard enough, I would disappear. The more I stare at the residue at the bottom of the mug, the more it looks like a happy face. My tea is mocking me. I press my hands tighter around the white porcelain, feeling the heat burn my palms. It hurts, but at least it keeps me occupied.

"Careful not to spill it on your dress."

I glance up, meeting his blue eyes for a split second before looking down again.  Clearing my throat, I reply, "I wont, thanks."

'Thanks?'  I give myself a mental slap in the face.

"Were you planning on spending all night in that?" Irish asks jokingly. He sounds so awkward, I kind of wish he'd just let us sit in silence.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, I slide one hand down the tulle material. "Um. I haven't changed yet. I came from Anna's family's ball - event - thing," I mutter.

"I know."

"Oh." I nod, not sure what else to say. A month ago, I would've told him about how beautiful the venue was and how posh the guests were, but now I feel like he doesn't want to hear any of these things. And I can't find anything else to say to him.

After what seems like ten hours, Irish speaks again. "Did you have fun tonight?"

I almost cringe at his attempt at small talk. Why is he here? I wish he'd pretend to get a text and leave. I want him out of my house.

"Yeah," I say.

When he doesn't reply, I decide to add on, "I had fun."

He still doesn't say anything. I look desperately at my phone, willing it to ring. I hate this. I hate this so much. I shouldn't feel this uncomfortable in my own house.

By some miracle, my phone buzzes. I snatch it from the end table, trying to conceal my happiness.

Mom: How was the ball, honey? Tell me all about it when you get back!

It kinda sucked, Mom.

"Is that Eric?"

My head snaps up. "What?" I ask, surprised.

"Is that Eric?" he repeats. His voice is so casual, it kind of scares me.

I hesitate to respond, unsure of how to approach this. "Uh..."

"Your face lit up when it buzzed. I just assumed it was Eric."

"Uh..." I scour my mind for something to say - anything to say - but everything inside of me is frozen. The simple, and honest, answer would be a big, fat no. And I really should just tell him the truth. Why am I even debating this? Why would I lie?

"Yes," I say.

My heart starts pounding against my chest. Shut up, Clara. Shut up! Take it back!

"He was just checking up on me," I say, unable to stop myself. Oh my god, what am I doing?

I turn off the phone and place back on the table, face down. I look Irish straight in the eye, waiting for him to call me out on my lie. I can see his face harden just slightly.

"That's nice of him," Irish says. Even though his voice is calm, it makes almost makes me want to jump up and run away.

"I agree."

"When did you guys start dating?"

I feel my eyes widen, so I look away. I look at the coffee table, at my dress, at the clock on the opposite wall - anything except him. "I don't -"