Finding a Happy Ending (Niall Horan Fanfic)

Chapter: 8 She Is

Niall's P.O.V

I can't stop thinking about that girl I met in New York. I am in Boston, I think, now. Sometimes I get the states and cities mixed up in the United States since there is so much to remember. Plus, I've never been good a geography. 

I always saw New Yorker ladies as people who are very sexy like in Friends, but my new friend Samantha from New York isn't exactly sexy. I think sexy is something people call a lady if they fancy her boobies and body. While I guess some people might consider Samantha sexy, I don't really. Instead, I think she is beautiful. I think every girl is pretty, but there is something about her that really surpasses all the other girls.

I love the time of the day I can talk to her. Usually, it is after a concert, or sometimes just before I hit the road. But whatever time of the day it is, I call up the inpatient hospital she is at and just see how she is doing. I know she hates when I ask how she is feeling and how well her wounds are healing, I can hear it in her voice, but I think I worry about her a lot. I am worried she is going to reopen her side or slash her wrists once more and they are just going to give up. I am in fear she will murder herself. 

Around management and the band, I never hear the end of the day I went to the hospital with her. I snuck out to go on a walk, and it just had to turn into something bigger that would cause management to panic about losing the Irish one. They found me eventually, and I was in a shit ton of trouble. Now I think management makes sure someone is watching me at all times so I don't try sneaking out again. I feel like I'm being stalked even when I take a dump or shower. It is weird.

My band mates were worried about me though. Alone, a regular looking dude on the streets of New York at night, doesn't exactly make anyone feel it is safe, but after a while I assured them I was in no danger. I told them about Samantha though. Not everything, but more or less what happened to her. I shared with them about how I couldn't find out the emergency number in America, and about seeing her fly through the glass door and shatter it with her unconscious body. They said I did the right thing and helped her all the way to the hospital and agreed they would have done the same. It is nice to have their support when everyone else wants to kill me for doing it. 

The lads want to meet her, since they hear me talking to her and about her more and more often. They want to see for themselves to make sure she isn't some lunatic or something, but I'm sure they would want to meet a lunatic if they had the chance too. I would too, but I know Samantha is not a crazy person. Although she has mentioned her crazy roommate Polly is a complete oddball, maybe I could me a real life crazy person. That would be scary and cool.

Anyways, I sit in a chair in my hotel room and I just can't seem to stop thinking about her. I can see in my mind how she looks, and all I hear is her voice laughing lightly. She is just on my mind and I don't know why. I remember how she looked the one time I saw her while she was awake and somewhat well. Her hair was a mess, she had no make-up on, but I liked it. I liked how she didn't have to try and she still was attractive and beautiful. Her face was sad, and her eyes were big and full of innocence, at that moment I couldn't help but wonder why she deserved what she went through. She looked so breakable, she didn't deserve the evil that haunted her. And now as I know more and more about her constant suffering, I feel worse and worse. 

Sometimes when I am on the phone with her, she just sounds so fragile when she is talking about certain things, she could bust to tears any second. It really makes me sad when she is sad, and then I try to cheer her up over the phone. She acts likes it is working most of the times, but I know she is just putting on an act. She still hurts underneath. 

Suddenly, a crazy thought leaps into my head. What if I like her? 

I shake my head. I feel her pain, I love talking to her, I yearn to see her again, and I just want to help make her better in every possible way, but that doesn't mean I have a crush on her. Does it?

I don't get butterflies when I am talking to her, but then again I am only talking to her. I like Samantha as a friend. She has all the qualities of a good friend, and I want and need to be her friend when she has none right now. But does that all mean I fancy her?

I blushed. I didn't think I liked her in such a way. I mean if I do, it is kind of premature. I haven't known her even a month yet, so I can't yet have feelings for her right? Right?

"Hey," I heard and I jumped. I saw Liam, my roommate for the visit standing in front of me with his  Batman shirt on and in his boxers. "Whoa, didn't mean to wake you mate."

"I wasn't asleep," I said. "I was just daydreaming again." I yawned. "Plus my eyes were open, how could I have been asleep?"

He smiled and reached over to pat my shoulder. "Knowing you I wouldn't be surprised if you started falling asleep with your eyes open."

I let out a chuckle. "Where were you anyways?"

"Niall, I was in the bathroom getting a shower. Did you not hear it?"

I shrugged. "Like I said I was daydreaming."

Liam walked away from me and flopped down on his once neatly made bed. The springs squeaked from the sudden weight and the bed jumped a bit.

"You haven't been youself ever since you met Samantha. Constantly staring into space." He said to me. "What is up? Is something bothering you about her?"

I sighed. "Well it bothers me how sad she is, but that isn't why I daydream." I said. "I honestly don't know why it suddenly has been happening to me."

We sat in silence for a while until I saw a smile creep across his face. "You like her, don't you?"

"What? No." I managed to say without blushing. "At least, I don't think so."

He sat up on the bed. "Uh huh, okay. I'll pretend I believe that."

I shook my head. "I honestly don't."

"Yeah okay. Just keep telling yourself  that Nialler."

"Hey. Stop trying to sneak into and judge my love life." I said. "Besides don't you have a girlfriend you need to call about now?" 

"Hey. Stop trying to get involved in my love life." He mocked me. He looked at his watch and his eyes went a bit wider. "You're right though, I think I need to call Taylor." He reaches for the hotel landline and starts dialing. He held the phone up to his ear, and as it rang he said to me, "Don't you need to call your girlfriend too?"

"Shut up," I jokingly said to him. "I already talked to her today." But, on second thought, maybe I could call her again and see what's up.

Maybe I'll do that.