Her Name Was Marty (Niall Horan)

xiii

previously...

Marty (@MartyAlexander): it’s nice to finally be back in london . . .

It wasn’t nice though. I thought it wasn’t nice at all.

Because there wasn’t anywhere I’d rather be right now, apart from back in the sunshine of Antigua, and in Niall’s arms.

xiii:

“Marty you need to get up. Seize the day. What did you say last night? Carpe Diem?”

“Last night I was drunk.” I grumble back to her, but my sister laughs at me. I didn’t drink last night. Last night I gave her a hug and told her I’d be in the guest room until the foreseeable future, then collapsed into bed and refused to tell her about any of my time in Antigua. “Sometimes I just want to start recording everything and get my life sorted out, you know?” She nods, “But then there’s days like these where I realize that I’m having to start all over again. I worked years to get to where I was, and now I’m back to the start like that.” I snap my fingers to show her how quickly everything went wrong for me. “Now where am I? Everyone knows what they’re doing, you’re at the right point of your life, Abigial is getting married to her soul mate-“

“Abi is getting married?” Diane repeats, this was clearly the most important information. I nod, and then she adds, “Good for her, Abi and Isaac are adorable.” I roll my eyes at that, why did my best friend have to have everything so perfect in her life?

And why did I have to be so jealous of her?

I should be happy for her, but I’m not. My jealousy compared her life to mine, Abigail, who was travelling the world with her boyfriend- no wait- fiancé, and me? I was completely unaware of what to do, I was currently trying to make myself a career that I had already ruined once, whilst Abigail didn’t even need one anymore because she had Isaac.

That’s not even mentioning the fact that I lost Niall.

“So, what are your plans for today?” Diane asks, sounding scarily like my mum. “And I don’t want you saying that you’ll spend all day in bed. You’re going to do something to help your future today.”

“Am I?” I ask her rhetorically. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Ring people! Write songs! Ring people and sing the songs you’ve written to them. Just do something!” Despite her annoying qualities, I decide to listen to my sister for once, groaning and mumbling as I roll myself out of bed, and grab my notebook that is on my bedside table. “No getting dressed today then?” She shouts after me, as I leave my temporary bedroom.

“Don’t push it!” I respond, my destination being the living room, where Diane’s piano was. Despite both of us having taken piano lessons as a child, I was the only one who took it seriously. Diane was good at playing jingle bells and other easy songs, I’d managed about a year ago to finally understand how to write song lyrics and create the chords that go with them. I bash about at the keys for a while, my fingers gliding over them and pressing at random moments, yet no divine inspiration seemed to overtake me. I heard Diane moving around in the kitchen, and I block her out of my hearing for most of the time, it’s only until I hear familiar chords of music on the TV that I’m broken out of my disjointed chords of the piano.

“Whilst touring commences in just two months, the One Direction boys seem to have been very disjointed for the past few weeks.” I get up from the stool, walking into the next room, and when I enter the first thing I see is Niall’s picture blown up on the television. “Niall Horan is not usually the member of the band known for his spontaneous decisions, yet he seemingly dropped off the face of the planet for a couple of weeks as sources claim he went on a romantic weekend with his new lady of choice. Who is this new lady in Horan’s life? Who knows. The same source claims that the two were especially close with lot’s of public displays of affection around the public areas of the hotel that they were staying in.”