Pretty Venom |N.H|

40

Jasey Foster

July 1.

I'm woken up this morning by the sun peeking past the curtain hung on my window. The light is shining directly on my face, causing me to groan and turn to the other side.

The air conditioning units under the windows in these hotels always blow air right against the curtains, and no matter how tightly I try to keep them shut, the air always blows them open, giving the sun full access to me while I try to sleep.

When my body rolls over, I'm startled when I don't bump into anything.

The bed is empty.

He's gone.

My eyes dart around the room, trying to find a trace of him, wondering if he had gotten up and slept in the chair like he did the night we kissed for the first time.

Maybe he's in the bathroom?

Nope. His phone is gone, his clothes are gone, the room is completely wiped clean of him.

Maybe last night didn't actually happen, it was just a dream. An extremely realistic dream.

I don't want that to be just a dream.

I'm almost certain it wasn't, because I can still feel his hands all over me.

My eyes scan the room again as I let my eyes adjust to the light coming through the curtains, and my movements stop completely when I notice a large sticky note taped to the television.

This was not there last night.

I pull the covers off of me and crawl out of bed, walking to the piece of paper and peeling it off the screen.

My eyes still feel like I'm sleeping, so I rub them and hope they will function well enough for me to read whatever this note is.

J,

Sorry for leaving without saying anything. You fell asleep on me, and I didn't want to wake you up, so I figured I would stay until you woke up by yourself, but then I fell asleep too and when I woke up this morning you were still out.

I had to leave this morning in case the guys decided they wanted to go on a search for me, but I really enjoyed last night. In a 'she's really great' kind of way.

I would have texted you this all, but I still don't have your number.

Don't give it to me though. I like coming up with new ways to talk to you.

Maybe we can get a telegraph and communicate through morse code next.

N.

I smile to myself as I read his message, finding it pretty cute that he went out of his way to find a sticky note to write this on, and imagining him scribbling these words down while I slept nearby.

The gesture doesn't seem huge, but coming from Niall, it feels different. This is meaningful for him.

I reread the note a few times before I'm flooded with memories of last night.

"I can't talk to him and act like you're not the one I want to be with tonight," I finally mustered up the courage to say to him, my voice fighting with me and struggling to speak clearly.

Next thing I knew, he was dragging me near the bathrooms. I was pouring out every thought entering my brain, until I was shut up by his lips pressing against mine.