Over Again

❝whether we're together or apart❞

      "Sure." it almost felt like before. Neither of us had moved for some reason, and it was still a little awkward, because he didn't know me and there were so many things I wanted to tell him, but we were talking again.

      "Tell me a story?" he asked, his shy voice filling the darkness.

      I laughed. "What kind of story?"

      I felt him shrug, his shoulders digging into my leg, but not in a painful way. "Anything."

      A story? I had heard enough fairytales when I was a kid, but the small details were fuzzy. I didn't like horror stories, so I tried to forget them the rare times I heard them. Then I had the idea of one particular memory.

      It was stupid, but I wanted to use it. I wanted to know if he remembered.

      One Direction was staying at our hotel. And while Dad constantly reminded me that it was good for business, I kind of wish they weren't.

      I don't hate One Direction.

      I'm not a crazy fan girl or anything like that, but I don't hate them.

      It's just that, where One Direction went, screeching fan girls followed. And it was just a little annoying having to fight through the mob of teenage girls at the front doors and the security that kept them out of the hotel. Also, as admirable as their dedication might be, the screaming made it really hard to sleep at night.

      I was starting to believe I would develop insomnia before it was all over. My temporary insomnia was how I ended up on the roof at midnight. It was louder up here than in my room, but it was also somehow more calming.

      The calm didn't last long.

      The door crashed open, then slammed shut almost immediately, the lock clicking into place. The sound of fists pounding against metal and muffled, excited screams filled the air, which could only mean one thing. Someone famous was on the roof with me. And since there was only one group of particularly famous people staying at our hotel, that meant someone from One Direction was on the roof with me.

      I turned around slowly. It was dark, but there was enough light from the buildings around us that I could see his face. It was the blond one, Niall Horan.

      "Hi," he said. He was tense, it wasn't extremely noticeable, he still looked casual, but his eyes were tired, wary. I had a feeling he was, maybe unconsciously, waiting for me to scream, or attack him, or something like that.

      "Hey," I replied calmly. I was sort of used to celebrities. Used to them enough that I could stay calm around them. They stayed here often, since the hotel was in the middle of downtown Toronto, and rated five stars. Admittedly, I had never really met a celebrity that had attracted so many fans during their stay. One Direction was one of our more famous guests.

      For a moment, it was silent as he watched me for any signs that I would freak out. Apparently happy with what he saw, he relaxed. "Uh, is there any other way off?" he asked, glancing at the door.

      There was another way off the roof, unofficially. No one except for me really came up here, so the door got stuck frequently, even when I didn't lock it. After one time where I had been stuck up here for so long that Dad had called the police, I decided to have a back-up exit. Since one of the suites was more or less my permanent room, I had tied one end up a long rope ladder to the window, and the other end to a small metal loop secured on the roof. That way if I got stuck up here, I could climb back into my room.

      I only used it in emergencies, though. It wasn't exactly safe. The knots could come undone, I could slip, the ropes could break. A fall of fifteen stories onto concrete could easily kill me. And I had a feeling if I got Niall Horan killed... Yeah, Dad wouldn't forgive me for that one. Not to mention all of his fan girls that would probably have my head.

      Finally, I nodded. "But it's not supposed to be used." I should at least be honest.

      He pouted. "Please? Paul's going to kill me if I don't get back. I'm already in trouble for sneaking out."

      This piqued my interest. What would Niall Horan be sneaking out for with so many fans around? "Why'd you sneak out?"

      "I'll tell you if you tell me how to get off," he said.

      I shook my head. "It's dangerous." His secret wasn't worth his death. And mine. Hmm, I wonder who would get me first, though. Dad or the fan girls? Geez, Sarah, you're thinking about who would kill you first if you accidentally killed Niall Horan. Isn't that just a little morbid?

      He sighed, going back to his pouting. A couple seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. "It was food."

      "Food?" I repeated. Seriously?

      "I was hungry!" he protested.

      I stared at him. "There's this thing called room service. You can order food and have it brought to your room," I told him.

      He shot me a half-hearted glare, then stopped, seeming to realize something. "Do you have a cell phone?" he asked. I shook my head, watching his hopeful expression drop. "The guys are gonna be worried."

      Awww. "How good are you at climbing ropes?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. Don't blame me, okay? He looked like he had just watched his best friend get run over.

      Niall grinned, sensing my possible surrender. "Best in my class in seventh grade."

      I sighed and mentally face-palmed. "I can show you the other way to get off. It's up to you whether or not you want to use it." I stood up and walked across the roof to where the rope ladder was hanging.

      "This is the other way?" he asked, stepping up beside me. He stared at the flimsy rope with wide eyes, then turned to look at me, a hint of suspicion in his expression. "I think you're trying to kill me."

      I shrugged and rolled my eyes. "Unofficially. And if I wanted to kill you, I could just push you off."

      "Where does this go to?"

      "My room."

      "Are you even allowed to do this?"

      I shrugged again. "Probably not. But that's my permanent room."

      "Permanent room?" he repeated.

      "Is this safe?" he asked, reaching down, to tug at the topes.

      "No. It's only for emergencies." I had only used it twice. The first time had been terrifying. The second time was better- until I almost slipped and let go of the rope. I had decided to bring something to keep the door from closing after that. "You asked for the other way off," I reminded him when he turned to look at me with an expression that clearly showed that he thought I was insane.

      "I didn't think it'd be this!" he exclaimed.

      "You could just wait," I suggested, glancing at the door on the other side of the roof. The banging had stopped, but they were still screaming his name.

      He shook his head. "I have a concert tomorrow in Vancouver. We're supposed to leave soon." He glanced at the rope ladder again. "Let's do this," he said. Though he tried to sound determined, there was still a small tremor in his voice that showed that he wasn't as fearless as he tried to appear.

      I blinked. "You sure?" Was he actually gonna do this? Oh god, if he died... Yeah, that would be really bad.

      He nodded hesitantly. "But can you go first?"

      Well, I've done it twice, and not died. This shouldn't be too bad. I crouched down and turned so I was facing him, then cautiously placed my foot on the first rope. Slowly, I eased myself down; glancing below me several times to make sure my foot didn't miss the next step. I felt Niall's eyes on me, but didn't look up, focusing instead on the ladder. After a couple moments, I made it to my window. I had left it open today, thank god. I shifted to the right to switch sides on the ladder then crawled in through the window.

      I wiped my palms against my pants, trying to get rid of the burn from my hands sliding on the rope as I glanced around the room. It was still pretty neat since I had gotten here last night and been too lazy to unpack everything. There wasn't anything embarrassing left out since the maids had been here after I left last weekend. I poked my head out the window and looked up. "You doing this?" I called. I wasn't sure if he had changed his mind. I hadn't seen anything fly by the window, which meant he hopefully hadn't tripped and fallen.

      Niall looked over the edge of the roof and nodded before disappearing again. Then I saw his foot appear on the first step. "Distract me!" he yelled down.

     "Why didn't you tell me you were afraid of heights?" Then I wouldn't have let you do this.

      "I'm not! I just don't like the idea of hanging fifteen stories above the ground," he replied, slowly inching down to the next step. "So do you like our music?"

      "Isn't that a little bit of a conceited question?" I asked, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn't see me. He stepped down another step, so I could not see the bottom of his legs without leaning out the window. He didn't speak again as he focused on getting down and climbing through the window.

      "I never want to do that again," he declared, wiping his hands on his jeans.

      "Well, at least you didn't die. That'd be kind of bad for the hotel's reputation," I said. Oops, that was probably not the nicest, or most reassuring thing to say. I should really think before I talk...

      He stared at me for a moment, then a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "So," he coughed. "Thanks."

      It was my turn to stare at him in disbelief. "You just climbed down a rope ladder fifteen stories off the ground and you're thanking me?"

      He shrugged and nodded. "Hey, you never answered my question. Do you like our music?"

      "Does it matter?" I asked, before I could stop myself. I mentally face-palmed. Rude, Sarah, rude. He shrugged again and looked at me expectantly. I considered his question as we walked through my room to the doors on the opposite side. I wasn't really a crazy fan, but it wasn't bad. They had pretty good voices. "It's pretty good. I like your acoustic stuff better, though," I admitted. We were at the door now.

      He opened it and stepped into the hallway. "Thanks again. Any way I can make it up to you?" I shook my head. There wasn't really anything I wanted. I mean, yeah, it was Niall Horan, and there were probably a million girls who wanted something from him, but I didn't really care for things like autographs, and posters. "You sure?" he pressed.

      I hesitated. But it was Niall Horan. "I have a couple Directioner friends..."

      Before I could finish, an angry shout came from down the hall. “Niall!"

      He winced. "Gotta go. Thanks again, Sarah!" And with that, he whipped around and ran down the hall, leaving me to stare after him in confusion. How had he known my name? I had never mentioned it to him, and I definitely wasn't famous, not like him.

      I looked down the hall, wondering if I would ever see him again to ask.


♡over again♡
 

      The next day, I found a tote bag in the hallway outside my door. There was a little tag on it that said my name. Inside I found five rolled up, autographed posters, and a CD. The acoustic version of one of their albums. It hadn't been released yet. The release date wasn't for another three months. And scribbled on the inside of the CD cover was a series of numbers.

      Niall's phone number.

      Soft snores filled the room, telling me he had fallen asleep. I looked down, barely able to make out his peaceful expression in the darkness. He didn't recognize the story, I thought, absentmindedly playing with the short strands of his hair. Suddenly, the front door slammed open, causing me to jump. Luckily, it didn't wake Niall.

      "Sarah?" I breathed out a sigh of relief at the familiar voice.

      "Hey Louis," I replied quietly. I carefully shifted Niall off my lap and stood up. Too late, Louis had already seen his sleeping band mate.

      "Did you wear our little Nialler out?" Louis asked, sounding amused

      I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "He just fell asleep on my lap," I said, following him into the dimly lit corner.

      Now, with the faint light from the flickering bulb in the corner, I could actually see Louis expression. Raised eyebrows. Not much of a surprise. "Sure there wasn't more to that?"

      "I told him the story of how we met," I fought to keep my voice steady, not wanting to him to see how much it hurt. "He didn't... Know it."

      He sobered, easily seeing through my thin defense. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he told me quietly, pulling me into a tight hug.

      "What if he never remembers?" I muttered into his shoulder, returning the much needed hug.

      Louis pulled away and held me by the shoulders, looking me in the eye. His next words weren't a joke, or something to make me feel better, his voice was dead serious. "Then you tell him."