I try to shove his foot out from the doorway while continuing to push against the door, hiding myself away behind it. I don't know when Harry will arrive, but I know this would be quite a scene for his to arrive to. I'd rather him come around when my parents are gone already. Hopefully, according to my efforts to not even let them in the first place, that will be soon.
I also don't want my mood to change any for our date. It wouldn't cause a very good first dating impression with me brooding.
"Nicolette," Someone calls from outside the door. I know that neither of my parents would dare call me that, and I'm actually scared that Harry is already here. The voice was mumbles so I couldn't really tell if it was him or not.
I stop pushing on the door. My door swings back open and my dad stumbles in. "You know, I could report you for breaking and entering."
"We didn't break and enter." My mum starts, stepping into the doorway after my father and steadying him on his feet. Surprisingly, Meghan steps in after them, a guilty look on her face.
"You entered without permission, and you could have broken the door or damaged the wall if it hit the wall. You're damn lucky I have a door stopper." I glare at Meghan, shaking my head.
"Nic, I can explain--"
I shout out my first few words to make her stop talking, "I don't want to hear any bull shit you want to throw at me. Actually, I don't want to hear any of you; just leave."
"Nia--"
"What did I just fucking say? Leave." I glance at my television clock. Harry is probably going to arrive soon. "I have a date, and I don't want any of you intervening."
"You and Harry are dating? Finally!" Meghan smiles at me, but I just continue to glare. She sighs, "Look, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
"Why would you bring them here." I demand.
"I told you that they could learn to understand."
I scoff, "And it doesn't seem they have, now does it? They're still calling me Niall; I don't know what the exact definition of 'understanding' is, but I know it's nothing like that." I eye both my parents up with a hard look in my eye, trying to tell them without speaking that I still don't trust them.
"We've been here--"
"You're fucking kidding me."
My mum pipes up, "Niall, language."
"No. You don't get to chastise me for my language." I snap, pointing my index finger at her with a bent elbow.
"Nic, please. We arrived here back when the season started..." Meghan begins.
"We've been watching you on the show." My dad adds with a tiny smile. "We never knew how good of a dancer you were."
"Yeah, well you never cared enough to get me trained because it was 'too girly for a boy to learn'."
"When you asked to learn, we thought you meant things like ballet and gymnastics."
"You were dead fucking wrong, now weren't you?"
"Niall, stop it. We're sorry, okay?" I don't care to figure out who said, it because right after I heard 'Niall' being uttered again, I walked away.
"If you're truly sorry, call me by my real name."
"We just did." I can hear a slap noise, and look behind me to see Meghan with her hand to her forehead and shaking her head.
"No, you didn't, and you haven't ever since you've arrived. If you can't, then you can get out of my flat, and hopefully my life, forever."
"We're not going to call you by a name that you gave yourself."
"Actually, I didn't come up with my name. Greg did; has he ever mentioned that? If not, there you go. I didn't 'give myself' my name." I turn back around and glare at all of them again. "Now, say it. Call me Nicolette Janelle Horan, just once. Then we'll talk."
"Niall, this is ridiculous. We're your parents--"
"You may be my parents, but you will never be my mum and dad. You made me, you brought me into this world... but you don't accept me for the way I am. Some parents you are." I roll my eyes. "And you," I direct my finger at Meghan, "you tricked me into thinking that I actually had someone who understood the old me and the new me. Apparently, I was wrong."
My parents and Meghan glance at each other, before turning back to me.
"Niall, please come home. That's why we came here to America. We wanted to get you to come home. Maybe then, you'll be reminded of everything you've been missing for the last decade."
"You didn't even care to keep track of how long I was gone. Wow, thanks, that definitely makes me want to come back. I'll go pack right now." I walk over and open the door again. "Leave, or I'll fucking push you."
"We'll get you to come home soon, Nialler. We will." They don't let me argue, and instead walk out of my apartment one by one, with Meghan trailing behind slowly and looking at me sorrowfully.
I roll my eyes and slam the door after her.
_-_-_
After my parents and Meghan leave, I punch one of the pillows on my couch that I leave there just in case I want to take a mid-day nap and don't feel like going to my room. It was either that or screaming, and I really don't want to be that person in an apartment complex. We already have too many of those as it is.
I had actually contemplated calling Harry and telling him that I wasn't in the mood to leave my flat, but I know that would give off the vibe that I'm trying to bail on our date, and I don't want him to feel as if I never wanted to go on a date with him.
Instead, I just go into my bathroom, brushing through my hair a few times, and packing a little bag for tonight. Knowing Harry, he won't even considering taking me back home, so I might as well get some of the things I need to stay over the night.
About 15 minutes after I spent my time getting anger out, Harry finally arrives. I can't tell if I'm excited for the date, or relieved that I'm finally talking to someone today that I can trust.
As soon as I open the door, I'm greeted with a wide smile and dimples staring back at me. I have to look up a little bit to meet Harry's eyes, and when I do, the green of his eyes are shimmering with excitement. I've never seen a happier person before.
Strangely enough, he's not wearing some kind of over-dressed suit. Instead, he's wearing a dark maroon coloured shirt with black flowers littered all across it, only half buttoned, as usual, and his black skinny jeans. He also has on his usual pair of brown Chelsea boots. I'm hoping he's not planning on taking me anywhere fancy based on his outfit choice. I've never really seen him dress up for anything in pictures that I would come across on my Twitter, but I don't really know what his definition of 'fancy clothes' are. I could never know, considering what he's wearing now makes up 90 percent of his daily outfits anyway.
Before he can greet me, I begin talking before him, "Sorry if I'm not dressed appropriately. I don't really have anything fancy, and I didn't want to go out and buy something that I would only wear for one night, and we might not have ended up going somewhere fancy. I called Louis and asked, but he just told me I should wear what I usually wear." Rambling has never really been something that took over many of my conversations, but I find myself doing it in front of Harry because, well, I'm nervous.
"I'm happy that you followed Louis' advice, then. I would never want you to change something about yourself just because of a date. I like you for everything that makes you unique." He eyes me up and down twice, taking in everything about my outer physique. We make eye contact, and he laughs quietly. "Including your style."
"Good," I smile back stepping back from the doorway to let him in, the first time I've done so willingly in quite a long time. "I wasn't planning on changing anyways." My smile is replaced with a little smirk, causing both of us to laugh.
"Same old Nic, as usual." He steps over the threshold, taking his jacket off.
"Damn right."
He laughs again and throws his coat at me, making my hair fly up in places. The zipper hits the button on my jeans, causing a small clanking noise sound out.
I gasp dramatically, throwing his jacket off me letting it land unceremoniously on the ground in a crumpled pile. "And I thought you were a gentleman."
"I never said that I was." He shrugs, picking the jacket back up and hanging it over his left forearm. "Are you ready to go?"
"Well I was, until you threw a piece of clothing at me and it messed up my hair. Asshole." I mutter, turning around and walking off to my bathroom.
I'm stopped by Harry's hand grabbing my own and pulling me back. We both look at our hands as we entwine our fingers together like we've done it a million times. "You've never let a little out-of-place hair stop you from gallivanting off and getting into trouble." I look down. "Don't let the fact that this is a date get to you, dove. Treat it as you would treat everything. I don't want you to change because of 'first impressions'. Trust me, I've already seen enough of you, and I promise that this won't make me stop liking you." Harry's little speech warms me heart, and I've never thought I would get that feeling.
I don't know what to reply, so I just roll my eyes and push him out of my apartment. I grab my own bag and checking my pocket for my phone before following after him and closing the door behind me.
He pulls me in, grabbing my left hand with his own, and placing his right hand on my lower back so I would walk forward. The elevator ride is quiet, with us catching eye contact every once in a while. He smiles every time we do.
We resume a similar position when we are walking to his car. He follows me over to passenger side of the car, and I beat him to opening the door. He pouts as I smirk. I sit back and let him close the door for me.
When he enters on the driver's side of the car, he starts talking, "I know I never claimed to be a gentleman, but you could have let me be polite, at least."
"I didn't like the romantic atmosphere, so I ruined it. Romance makes me puke."
"And you're just now telling me this as we're going on a date."
"Yeah, basically."
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but it's probably just Meghan sending me another apology text. She can honestly fuck off.
I'm not sure how long we were in the car for. Harry let me plug my phone in willingly, so I knew he trusted me not to put on any of my metal music. I smile down at my phone as I look up one of the many bands I listen to that aren't metal on Spotify. I'm hoping he'll like them, considering I started listening to them ever before I got really into metal music.
We both listen to most of the song until it gets to the chorus, when I begin to sing along.
"And we all look so damn happy, even though we're all so lonely. and we're standing close together cause, we think that it's the only way to feel, like we're not alone. Like we're not alone."
Harry catches eye contact with me after he stops at a red light, biting his lip. I smile and continue to sing quietly, but still loud enough that he can hear me above the song.
I continue to serenade him when the chorus comes up each time until the song ends. When I stop my music from playing and unplug it from the console, he says, "You're a good singer."
"You could barely even hear me."
"But what I could hear sounded really good." I shrug, flipping my phone around in my hands a few times. "Alright, we're here."
I look up from my phone at where we've parked. I have to lean forward a bit to read it, but when I do, I burst into a fit of laughter.
"What?" He frowns, following my eyes that lay on the blue letters. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah, this is wonderful. I love breakfast for dinner." I'm still laughing a little, turning back to him. "I haven't been to IHOP in ages."
"Me neither. That's why I wanted to come here. I know this date is supposed to be in favour of you, but I felt like pancakes, so I took you somewhere that I wanted to go."
"Isn't that how dates are supposed to be? Something that is beneficial to both parts of the couple."
"I guess, but no one really abides by that. Whoever takes the person out on the date is usually expected to do something that the other person would like, even if they hate it."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. And that's saying something because my best friend is Louis Tomlinson."
We catch eye contact for a second, and then I pull on my door handle, kicking the door out when it props open. My eyes follow the door the entire way out until it stops moving. I let out a breath when it didn't hit the car next to us.
Harry also opens his door, coming around to my side and taking my hand. "It's only Thursday, why the hell is it so busy?" I look around at the full parking lot, seeing a variety of new and older cars.
"People are too lazy to make themselves dinner. Hm, who does that remind me of?" He pinches me in the side.
"I don't know, that type of behaviour doesn't sound familiar at all." I smile cheekily.
Harry leads up both towards the front doors of the restaurant. We get in through the first set of double doors into a small waiting area which doesn't have anybody in them, but he pulls me back when I go to open the next set of doors that lead into the actual restaurant.
"Hey, Nic?" I look back at him. "This is the first time we've gone out somewhere, you know, public together. I already asked the manager to keep an eye on people and not let anyone take pictures, but don't, like, get annoyed if some people come up and ask for a picture or something. I don't know if you've dealt with this kind of thing before, but I have, and it does get annoying, but there's nothing I can do about it."
"If you're afraid that I'll tell your fans to fuck off, you don't need to worry. I do live in Los Angeles, Harry, and I do know what it's like to be associated with famous people. Trust me, I've been out before with friends and we've been stopped a few times because of fans. It's no big of a deal. Well, as long as they don't form a mob around our table and I won't be able to get my food. Then I'll be pissed." He laughs slightly. "It's who you are, Harry. You can't change the fact that your fanbase is too fucking big to keep everyone in check."
"I know, I just wanted to warn you. Being interrupted like that can get a bit annoying, especially on something that's supposed to be private and special."
"Do what you told me; don't let the fact that it's a date get to you. And either way, after they get their picture or whatever, they'll probably go back and eat their own food, right? Do fangirls leave after they get what they wanted?"
"I don't know, it depends on the fan." Harry pushes the door open for me. I roll my eyes.
"So how did you know I don't like fancy stuff? Is it that obvious?"
"Well kinda, but your brother kind of gave me pointers."
I laugh, "Remind me to thank him for that."