One in a Million (A Niall Horan Fan Fiction)

Chapter Eleven

Unlike all of the other times I’d been out with Niall, Morgan wasn’t scrambling me for questions once I got home. I knew exactly why, and it overwhelmed me with guilt. I immediately regretted my rash exit from last night, and knew I should apologize immediately. Unfortunately, by the time I got home she’d already headed off to bed, resulting in a sleepless night for myself. I endlessly tossed and turned in bed, unable to shift my thoughts.

I felt trapped in a cocoon of sheets, so I eventually just kicked them completely off. My thoughts orbited between my fight with Morgan and the news Niall had just given me last night. Being with him all of yesterday hadn’t given me any time to think about what was actually happening. He’d kept my mind busy with endless stories about experiences him and the boys had endured. My calm composure quickly vanished once I was left alone with my feelings.

I awoke the next morning to the splashing noises from the bath. Morgan always used the bath to ease her thoughts and comfort herself. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table and darted down to the kitchen to make her well-deserved breakfast. I made her favourite—chocolate chip pancakes with caramel drizzle and strawberries.

As I was finishing up breakfast, I moulded a quick apology in my head. I promised myself not to bring up yesterday, or Niall at all until things were completely cleared up. The apology would obviously come first, and if she happened to ask, a juicy story from yesterday would willingly push all of her anger towards me out of her mind.

All too soon, Morgan got out of the bath and walked into the kitchen. I felt my teeth clench together defensively; restricting the amount of sound I could make.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion at the food on the table. I set down her coffee and waited. Her eyes glanced between me and the kitchen table. I released nervous breath just as the words escaped her mouth, “I love being mad at you—somehow food gets involved.” She smiled immensely and sat down next her heaping plate of pancakes.

I chuckled and sat down with her. “We do love our food in this house.” I agreed.

“Why go to all this trouble?” she asked in between vast bites. “Not like I’d ever be able to stay mad at my favourite person in the entire world.” she said matter-of-factly, pointing her fork in my direction.

I sighed, beginning to pick through my own breakfast. “I was up till the wee hours of the night stressing about it. Plus, I was in the mood for cooking.” I smirked.

“Well, I appreciate the effort,” she said, her mouth full. “But I was over our argument before I even went to bed last night.”