I Would {A Harry Styles and Niall Horan Fan-Fic} (Completed!)

Chapter 3

“How are things with you and lover boy?” asks my friend Adrian. It’s about seven at night in London, but it’s only eleven in L.A., and since we never get to see each other, we skype nearly every day.

“Why do you call him that? It’s so…mean,” I say, laughing.

Adrian makes a face. “It’s not like I don’t like him. It’s just because he’s so into you,” he says. “Plus, you know I’m dying to be your boyfriend.”

Adrian and I met on the set of Castle on in the Clouds. He was my love interest, my “Prince of my castle,” as my character said, but I’ve never felt anything other than friendship towards him. Plus, after saying, “My dear prince!” at least a dozen times, we can’t take each other seriously love-wise

“We’re good. Nothing new, but good,” I say, trying to conceal my disappointment. I thought dating Niall Horan would be a dream, but after the first few months, that euphoria melted away. He’s romantic – sure – but not consistently. He actually forgot our one-year anniversary, and even though I was laid-back about it, I was really disappointed in him. You don’t forget your one-year anniversary.

Adrian raised an eyebrow. It’s something he’s really good at, and I always try to copy that exact look whenever I’m annoyed.

“Really? You seem…ambivalent towards your guys’ relationship,” he says, scratching his chin. “It’s like you’re slowly drifting apart.”

I didn’t say anything. Adrian had hit the nail on the head, so to speak. Lately, I was feeling like Niall and I weren’t as close as we had been. Before, he had been so romantic, bringing me flowers randomly or taking me out to a fancy dinner or a day at the beach. Now, he came over when I was cooking, caring more about the food than seeing me. I hadn’t moved to London so I could cater to him!

Adrian sighed. He looked sad.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” he asked.

I nodded. I didn’t want to admit it to him, but there was no other excuse.

Adrian tried to smile, but it fell flat.

“Hang in there, Lisa,” he said, calling me by my nickname I preferred. Only Niall, the public, and my parents called me Annalise these days.

“Thanks Adrian,” I said.

He switched the subject to his current girlfriend, some blond, leggy model that I didn’t approve of, mostly because she hadn’t finished high school and was seven years his elder to his eighteen years. I tried to engage in the conversation, but in the end it just ended up him talking and me listening. It felt a lot like my current relationship with Niall; one of us was oblivious to the other one’s obvious disappointment.