Capture My Heart (BK3: Niall Horan)

-Ch 40: Self Destruction + Bedroom Drawers.

CHAPTER FORTY: Self Destruction + Bedroom Drawers.

Ashley Dawson:

“No, you can’t go to Africa if you’ve already been to Turkey. We said only five hot places, and if you went to both that would be six. Pick one.” I instructed sternly, giving Niall a look upon his sheer rule-breaking of our places-we’d-go-on-our-world-tour-before-death game.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Turkey isn’t that hot.” He defended.

“Yes it is.”

“Have you been there?”

“No.” I admitted, and he smiled.

“It’s not hot, not like Africa, its warm. You’ve lost your seat on the plane to Australia now, pick another.”  

“No.”

“Yes.” He insisted, a wide grin etched across his face. The autumnal sunshine was streaming through the windows and it fell upon his face in a very flattering way of hazy perfection. “You know that Australia has loads of big spiders and shit, right? You don’t really wanna go there, do you?” He chuckled, and then arched the bareness of his body over me, his fingers hastily tickling across my bare stomach in an attempt to resemble that of a spider.

“Get off!” I squealed, swatting his hands away, he laughed, lying back down beside me. “Fine, I’ll go to New Zealand instead, it’s basically next door.”

“They’ll probably still be exotic stuff Ash, you'd be scared.”

“No I wouldn't. It doesn’t matter because New Zealand’s a lot smaller so they’ll obviously be less of them.” I concluded, kicking my feet out from the duvet so they were dangling just over the mattress.

“Right.” He said, not quite convinced. “Are you sure you wouldn’t go to the states? We could perfect our accents and convince everyone we’re American, that’d be a nice way to die.”

I furrowed my eyebrows sceptically, sliding him a sidewards glance. “No, I don’t want to die with everyone thinking I’m an American.”

“But you wouldn’t be the only one; everyone would think I was American too.”

“No they wouldn’t, because one: Everyone would know who you were anyway, and two: there’s no way you’d be able to pull of a completely convincing American accent for the whole time.”

“I thought we were going to these places and the point was that nobody would know who we were?”

“Not necessarily.” I shrugged, stretching my stomach upwards briefly before relaxing again.

“Well then,” he said. “Maybe you can’t go to New Zealand; they might not want you there.” He chuckled, his hand moved to my right hip, his fingers moving over my skin fervently.

“Shut up, maybe you can’t go to Africa; they might not want you there.”

“But I’ve already been.”

“That’s not the point.”

He laughed again, and his laughter was very comforting to me. I didn’t know why, maybe because it was something very close to happiness, but I liked it a lot. “Maybe we should just end this here and admit that I won.” He suggested, moving himself a little closer to me. I felt the mattress dip a little as more weight was put onto my side.

“Why did you win?” I frowned at the ceiling, I didn’t like to lose.

“Because,” he said, his fingers creeping lower towards the very tops of my thighs, where it connected to my hip. “I’m better at geography than you.”