Waking Up In The Dark (Niall Horan)

Chapter 12

Rose's P.O.V

Again, we wandered down the hallways, leading me to the actual dressing rooms. I started to get a little nervous after Niall had added that stylists weren't bad all of the time. But he had told me to only listen to their ideas, and keep mine to myself. That didn't sound like me at all.

A big door lay ahead with a glittering, golden star. Lights shown underneath the doorway, shadows crossing it as footsteps walked by. I gasped. "Is that it?"

Louis laughed. "No, that's for Simon when he's here. The main dressing room is so much bigger."

My heart started to pound in my throat. Bigger? How big was it? What would happen to me? An image appeared in my head of me immersing from a mansion-like room in too-short shorts, a tank top, and make up that stood out like a clown's. A shiver ran down my spine. That would not happen, at least not while I was alive and fighting.

They took the stairs up, and passed the recording studio. I felt an itch to pick up those drumsticks again, and started tapping the drum part of Midnight Memories against my leg. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Niall glance at it and smirk, but it quickly left as they passed the closet I had been held in.

Gently, I put my hand on his arm. "Don't feel bad," I whispered. "It's over, and look where I am now." He nodded, but stared straight ahead. I released him.

My mind drifted back to Isaac. Though I knew this might be the greatest months in my life, I already knew I was going to choose him. He was only twelve, he needed me, and I was determined to see him on his thirteenth birthday, which was in exactly four months and a day. If I missed it, it would crush him, though he would never admit it. I had to be there for him, no matter where or when; nothing could separate the two of them, not in life or death.

Niall nudged me gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just...nervous about the whole 'makeover' thing. Who knows what I'll come out looking like, my hair could be freaking pink next time you see me."

He chuckled. "Although I wish I could see it, if you have a problem or need any outside opinions, I may be able to help you out."

I hesitated. "You've been so...nice, ever since this morning. Are you doing it because you feel..." I trailed off. He stood silent, waiting for the last word of the sentence. "Guilty?" I finished.

Almost immediately, he shook his head. "You're a nice girl with a terrible life, and yes, even though I do feel guilty, I'm not doing it out of at

sympathy. Plus, you do need someone to be friendly, because they," he gestured to them, "aren't exactly it."

Blood rushed to my cheeks. "Thanks."

We continued on in silence, my heart beating faster and faster as I walked inevitably towards something new and unknown. At last, we arrived at a small doorway, a sign hanging on the door that identified it as the dressing room. My fate had arrived.

Liam rapped on the door with his tan fist. A woman's voice screamed, "COMING!" She opened the door a few seconds later, and looked at the group lazily. She wore a florescent pink miniskirt, along with a light blue spaghetti strap. Neon yellow finger nail polish shown bright, and matched her earrings that dangled to her tan, freckled shoulders. She had short, stringy brown hair, and her make-up was a shade off her skin tone. Overall, she looked about thirty-seven, but was probably only twenty-nine. I shuddered. So this was going to be my future?

The lady smacked on her gum. "Yes?"

"We are going out to eat and need to have make-up," Liam said simply.