Happily (Niall Horan)

Chapter One: Door Magnet

Thursday, November 24, 2011:
Hayleigh:
I'll be back soon, Pres!" I yell to my roommate.
"Kay!" I heard her call from somewhere in the house. I shrug and grab a hoodie. I slip it on over my American Eagle shirt, but leave it un-zipped. I grab my purse before walking out our wooden house door and for once, without my camera.
I decide not to take my car, just to get a chance to enjoy the crisp winter air and all the beautiful things that happen to London.
I smile about twenty minutes later when I pass Turn The Tables, my favorite music store, before the door suddenly swings open, hitting me in the process. I stumble back, clutching my head in pain. "I'm so sorry! Oh my god, it was an accident! I'm sorry!" an unfamiliar voice apologizes. "Let me help you."
I open my eyes, and grab the hand that was open towards me. He pulls me up, and I lift my aching head to look the stranger in the eye. He looked maybe seventeen or eighteen and had blond hair but with brown roots, probably dyed.
He smiles nervously at me, showing his crooked teeth. I couldn't see his eyes because he was wearing sunglasses, even though it's November.
"Thanks, I guess," I say rubbing my skull. "Watch where you're going, all right?" His smile disappears as he takes a step closer.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes again, "I was ending a phone call, and I wasn't paying attention." I nod my head slowly. "Are you okay? There's going to be a bruise there later," he points out and I scowl at him.
"No dip," I pick up my backpack from the ground. He winces at my icy tone.
"Can I make it up to you?" he asks, picking up my notebook which had fallen out of my backpack. He hands it to me, and I put it back in the main pocket, and button the flap. I look at him for a second. Should I trust him? He doesn't seem like a psychopath, but people are never what they seem to be. Oh well,
"Sure," I answer after a second, "Can we get a coffee?" I don't know why I took him up in his offer to be honest. He seems okay as he nods his head.
"You don't have a British accent, where are you from?" he asks while stuffing his hands in his hoodie. There was a slight breeze, so I copy his actions as we begin walking. "I'm guessing America?"
"Yea, New York actually," I reply digging my hands in my pockets. It was getting colder, but it's kind of expected at this time of year.
"Ah," he makes a noise with his lips, "So you're used to this weather?" I nod once again and smile.
"Where are you from?" I question, "Your accent isn't British either."
"Mullingar, Ireland," he replies. He takes a deep breath and when he exhales I can see it because of the cold.
"It's really pretty there," I say, thinking back, "I've been there once- I think." He looks shocked for some reason but shrugs it off.
"You've been?" he smiles, once again showing his cute crooked teeth. "Really? Or are you teasing me?" I laugh and shake my head.
"Really," I assure him, "I went when I was 10 for summer vacation."
He simply does a little half-smile before lifting his head. "Is this place okay?"
I follow his gaze to see a cute little shop, that definitely looks really warm and cozy. "It's perfect," I reply and go to grab the door. He holds it open for me and I thank him.
"No problem," he smiles.
A chill goes down my spine as I'm hit with warm air and stand awkwardly because I've never been here before.
However, the stranger seems to know this place so I follow his lead before looking up at the chalkboard menu.
"What do you recommend?" I ask him, after looking over the options.
He replies with his grin that never seems to fade. "Their hot chocolate is killer. I always add a few marshmallows and whipped cream though."
"That sounds delicious," I admit and he shyly looks at the floor.
We both take a step forward as another customer has been served, but my eyes land on an old couple, walking out of the café.
The woman was pushing her husband in his wheelchair near the exit and I notice it's going to be a challenge to get through the door.
I abandon my new friend and walk quickly over to them, just in time. The woman opens the door and I take it from her and hold it.
"Thank you dear," she gratefully smiles at me and I return it.
"It was my pleasure, ma'm." Once they're successfully through, I let go of the cold metal and walk over to the line.
Irish guy smiles as he sees me walking over to him.
"That was nice of you," he says as I step up to order. I just smile kindly at him before facing the cashier.
"May I have a small hot chocolate please?" I ask her nicely before I remember something. "With extra whipped cream and marshmallows?"
She chomps on her bubble gum before saying, "Sure, doesn't matter to me."
"I would like the same please," Irish tells her, looking at me. I respond by crossing my eyes and stick my tongue out. He laughs and takes out his wallet but I'm quick to do the same.
Blondie takes notice, "What are you doing?"
"It's not the fourteenth century, I can pay for my hot chocolate," I tease and he shakes his head with his cute half-smile.
"Just this once?" He asks. "I mean, I hit you with a door."
"Good point," I laugh lightly before taking out a five then putting my wallet away. "Just this once."
The cashier tells him the total and I watch him pay before taking the five dollars in my hand and slipping it into the donation box. Someone out there needs it was more than I do.
"Names?" She looks at us as she smacks her gum consistently.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I say, "Vicky." She writes it down on the cup and looks at Irish.
"Clover," he says seriously and I burst out laughing. That's definitely not his real name. We move out of the way so the next customer can order, and Irish looks at me. "Is Irish my nickname now?" He says jokingly.
"I believe so," I reply, playing along.
"So Vicky-" Irish begins but gets cut off by me giggling. He looks at me puzzled. "What's so funny?" I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling.
"Nothing," I reply innocently. He narrows his eyes and I hold my hands up in surrender.
"Vicky and Clover!" Our names are announced. I walk up there and grab my hot chocolate as Irish grabs his. He walks over to a booth and sits down while motioning over to me with his hand. I follow him and I sip my hot chocolate with a sigh. This is definitely what you need on a chilly autumn day.
"So Brown-Eyes, since your name is obviously not Vicky," he pauses and I chuckle.
"Well your name is obviously not Clover," I shoot at him. He grins and shakes his head.
"Touché," he reaches his hand across the table and I give it a firm shake.
"You have a name Brown-Eyes?" he raises an eyebrow. Man, I wish I could do that. I can only raise both, not one individually.
I smile and take another sip from my hot chocolate, "Hayleigh. Hayleigh Ryan." He grins- I'm guessing since I actually told him- and takes a big slurp from his cocoa. When he's done slurping he looks at me, and I can't help but giggle.
He has whipped cream around his top lip, forming a creamstache. I lean forward and wrap my hands around my cup.
"You realize it's November, and not sunny yet you are wearing sunglasses?" I ask him. I think it was nervousness that passed over his face but he hid it.
"So?" he fake coughs and I roll my eyes.
"So? That's your comeback?" I press. He shrugs. "Oh come on. Just take them off!" I continue pressuring him little by little. He sighs after a moment of silence. Irish reaches up, and takes off his dark sunglasses. He finally looks me in the eye, showing me his crystal blue eyes. Never in my life have I ever seen eyes that blue. "See? That's not so bad is it?" I ask him teasingly. He chuckles a little bit.
"Guess not," he agrees with me. I smile at him and he returns it.
"So Irish you got a name? I told you mine," I question curiously and watch him as his eyes shine.
"Niall. Niall Horan," he grins happily.