I woke up with a pounding head and a warm stomach.
I groaned, my headache growing worse as I tried to open my eyes. Why did my head hurt so badly? What was going on? I searched my memory for an answer, but couldn’t find one. Not until I recognized the stale taste of alcohol in my mouth.
Last night came back to me, though I didn’t remember most of it. But I remembered Niall going off with Keaton, leaving me alone. I remembered waiting for hours, doing nothing. I remembered the girl who’d given me the drink, but not her name. I remembered dancing a bit, then it all disappeared until the guy kissed me.
I bit my lip. He’d kissed me. My first kiss, and I didn’t even know the guy’s name, let alone remember his face. I remembered how I’d wanted him off, how I’d been about to pass out. And I remembered Niall, pulling him off of me - his angry expression while talking to the guy, then coming over to ask if I was okay. Why had he done that?
I reached up to rub my eyes, then to pull down my shorts that had ridden up in the back. But there was something blocking my way - a comforter. Though it was weird, I never slept with a duvet. Only a thin blanket decorated my mattress, so I knew that I wasn’t in my own bed. The thought woke me up right away.
My eyes shot open despite the pounding in my head, and I looked down at myself. My hair was in tangles, my shirt was pushed up to my bra line, and there was a pair of arms around my middle. The realization that my clothes were still on comforted me a small bit, but the fact that I wasn’t waking up in my own bed scared me. I followed the arm up to the shoulder, then the person’s face -
“Niall,” I whispered, my breath hitching. I was in Niall’s bed. I was in Niall’s room. I was in Niall’s house. I was in Niall’s arms.
My body went rigid and I flinched, stirring him a bit. I panicked, not wanting him to wake up. What would he say about this? He’d never wanted anything to do with me before. He’d told me I was horrid, disgusting even. What would he do if he found us like this?
I tried to gently pry his arms from around me, but only succeeded in jarring him. I cursed as he stirred, then laid back as still as I could. If he thought I was asleep, maybe he wouldn’t be as angry. After all, it was his arms around me.
But what surprised me even more was that Niall - still very much asleep - drew me closer. His chest pressed up against my back, his arms growing tighter around my middle. I winced. Contact like this with Niall was terribly uncomfortable and foreign. But the odd thing was that I was getting used to it. Though the bruises on my leg and forearm were still fairly new, I was expecting less and less to be hurt by Niall. I was getting more comfortable with him. But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Which is why this kind of interaction was awkward and unwanted. I bit my lip and tried to ignore my pounding head as I slowly reached for Niall’s clasped hands again. My fingers closed around one of his wrists and pulled gently, but he didn’t move. I cursed under my breath, then tried again. This time, Niall started to stir.
My body went rigid and I moved my hand away as quickly and carefully as I could manage. My eyes shut tight as he took in a long breath through his nose. Niall’s body shifted abruptly, lodging one of his legs in between mine. The soft fabric of his pants rubbed lightly against my bare legs, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out in frustration.
I suddenly felt his forehead land against the back of my neck, and I stiffened my already solid form. This was completely foreign, and I didn’t like it at all. What if he actually did wake up and find us like this, with me awake? What would he say? What would he do? I had to focus on getting out of his arms. But one thought briefly held my attention.
