Niall’s POV
The ball hit against the side of the garage with a thud and bounced off, flying over my head. I pushed off the balls of my feet, the spikes of my boots digging into the sod as I ran after it. The air was as damp as the soil, the weather having finally broke. Eventually I’d need to see about having someone come out and put a proper pitch in, but for now I kicked the ball around the uneven grass, using the fence line to gauge distance.
I tugged the sleeves of my long shirt back down over my forearms as I jogged, my breathing heavier than it ought to be, probably due to being cooped up inside all fucking winter. Although, it was a particularly good winter to be cooped up. It was going to really be something to be able to come straight out my front door and have the room to mess about, maybe even organize a match or two with the lads. It’s now that I realize how much I had missed the openness; the few years spent in my flat offering no such amenity.
I’ll be needing a landscaper though; I’ve got no patience for that sort of thing. I needed to remember to scour the listings. Or even better, find out who Louis uses; that’d be less leg-work.
The sun poked through the heavy clouds, warming the back of my neck just slightly as I slowed the ball with my heel and popped it up, bouncing it atop my knee as I looked back at the house. She was in there, missing out on the sounds of birds in the nearby trees, missing out on seeing the first hints of green in the grass we had only known to be brown, or snow-covered.
It had been four days since she lost her job. She shuffled through the door that evening, shoulders slumped, but having kept herself together to finish out the day, enduring the car ride home and finally letting go as she sat down beside me on the couch. The tears began to fall and I tucked her against my chest, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
I was used to failure. I knew how to bounce back from it. Roxy had never failed at a single thing in her whole life. The things that she did, she did well. The things she did not, she wouldn’t attempt.
Obviously, I suspected something had been going on at work, since she’d been spending long hours and coming home completely exhausted. But, she never wanted to talk about it, and I didn’t press her. Even on the weekends, she seemed a little distant, as if her brain were still on the clock; searching. Now I know that her company had been outbid, the entire staff having to pack up their offices and turn in their keys.
We stayed there on that couch, and I was silent for hours, listening to her as she talked, and as she didn’t talk. Her dress was terribly creased and my shirt was stained from her mascara. I knew I would be giving a pep talk at some point, but not then. She eventually cried herself to sleep, and I carefully arranged our bodies on the cushions, tucking the blanket underneath my leg so it would serve as a sort of net to keep us from slipping off as we slept there until morning.
I tucked the ball back under my arm and headed back toward the house, kicking my muddy boots off on the porch and tossing the ball on one of the wrought iron chairs before heading inside. The door clicked closed behind me, and I caught a look at myself in the mirror over the table, my cheeks flush from a mix of the chilled air and my elevated heart rate. My nose was running a bit, and I swiped at it with the back of my sleeve before heading into the living room toward the sound of the tele.
She was curled up in the chair, still wearing yesterday’s outfit of choice: my old purple hoodie and a pair of my joggers. Her body was swimming in them, and I wondered if she was even wearing any underwear. To be honest, she looked a mess. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but slipping off to one side. Her fingernail polish had been picked and peeled, the jagged ends on display as she gripped the remote and pressed the up button, the channels flipping so rapidly that there was no way she could even be trying to select one to stay on.
I needed to give her time. But it was killing me.
“Hey babe.” I said, with just a hint of cheer.
“Hi.” She replied, forcing a smile up at me.
“Sun’s out.” I said. “Wanna go for a walk?” She shook her head and pressed up on her glasses, pushing them onto her nose properly as she focused back on the screen.
I wanted to suggest that she have a shower, that she change into some clean clothes. But I trapped the words behind my lips, knowing they’d either upset her or piss her off. “Are you hungry? I could make something.” I said.
“No thanks, Ni.” She said softly. “I had some oatmeal.” She added for good measure, in case what I was getting at is that I was concerned she hadn’t eaten at all.
I peeled my sweaty shirt over my head as I jogged up the stairs.
Roxy’s POV
Weather. Shopping. News. Kardashians.Sports.News.Jezza.Cooking. Back to Jezza. I tossed the remote down on the table and pulled my legs underneath me, continuing to pick at the pink nail polish I should have removed days ago. I tried to let myself get wrapped up in the pathetic story of the guest on today’s show, who was wearing waytoo much eyeliner. But my mind was buzzing.
Not buzzing.
It was like the hum of the refrigerator that you only noticed really late at night when everything else was silent. It was on, but not really doing anything. Except humming.
I was jobless. I was pointless. I was directionless.
I was sad.
I really felt like I had a good thing going. I loved my job. I loved that it had an impact, that there were people out there benefiting from what I did every day. And those people weren’t millionaires. Hell, those people probably didn’t even have bank accounts. It made me feel good.
I am sure that Niall was looking for clues as to what he should be or could be doing to help me. But, I just didn’t know. I hadn’t even really talked with him about it. I wasn’t even sure if he knew how totally screwed I really was. Most of my co-workers would get picked up and be back to work in a matter of weeks. Things weren’t going to be that easy for me.
Without a job, my Visa will expire at the end of the month.
There are only two options.
Harry’s POV
“Allison.” I groaned through the door as she continued to hum from the other side. “What is taking you so long in there?” Honestly, she’d been in that bathroom for an hour. And that was after she’d spent twenty minutes in the shower and another ten slathering on moisturizer. I had already fired of a text to Nick to let him know we’d be running a little late. He was used to my tardiness, but I couldn’t wait until we got to the restaurant so I could pin this one all on Allie.
“Not all of us can pull on a tiny t shirt and some jeans and look like we fell from the pages of GQ, Harry.” She sang back.
“Uhh, thanks?” I laughed. “Your compliments don’t change the fact that you’re taking too long.” Besides, it wasn’t true at all. Allison rolled out of bed in the morning looking fit enough for Maxim, if you could ignore her crusty eyelids and her breath.
“None of my stuff is here!” She whined. “I have to improvise.”
“Liar.” I smiled. She had a whole basket of crap tucked under the sink, and a corner of my closet filled with her clothes. I liked that she was getting more comfortable at my place, but at the same time, I still wanted it to be my bachelor pad. I could handle an extra toothbrush on the sink, but if any issues of Bella made it into the caddy next to the loo, I was going to have to lay down the law.
Finally, she pulled open the door, my head snapping up from the bed. Her jumper fell just at her thighs, and her dark denim jeans hugged tightly to her legs. Simple but stunning, as always. I refused to gawk at her, so as to not validate her efforts that have made us very late. “Ready then?” I said, sitting up and getting to my feet, tucking my wallet from the top of the bureau into my back pocket.
“Yep.” She smiled, running her fingers though her hair.
Niall’s POV
I rapped my palm against the side of my head twice, trying to shake loose the water stuck in my ear, the eventual popping of the air bubble sending a little shiver down my spine. I pulled the fluffy, white towel from the bar and pressed it to my face before rubbing it over my hair and wrapping it around my waist as I stepped onto the mat.
I do some of my best thinking in the shower, and today was no exception. I charged into the closet and got dressed, the cotton dragging on my still-wet skin. I wasn’t sure why I felt like I was in such a rush; I knew that when I got downstairs, she’s still be parked in that chair. Still in my old grimy sweats. Still perfect underneath all of the sad.
I was going to let her pity party carry on for exactly one more day, and then if she couldn’t drag her own sorry ass out of it, I was going to have to do it for her.
I pulled a hat from the shelf and tucked it over my hair, not wanting to put the time or effort into making it look decent. “Hey babe!” I called as I bounded down the staircase. She tilted her head backward as I walked behind the couch and leaned down, placing my lips to her forehead. When I pulled back, her eyes were still closed, like she was trying to savor the feeling. “I’m heading out.”
“Where?” she said, surprised. Last she’d heard from me, my schedule was clear until Sunday.
“Just errands.” I replied, unable to resist another kiss on her skin, this time at her cheek. She smiled. It was probably just because my stubble tickled her skin, but I didn’t care. I loved that smile. “Rox.”
“Hmm?” she looked up.
“I love you.” I said. “But you need a shower. And a change of clothes.”
“Hey!”
“I mean it. I picked something out for you and left it on the bed. As much as I love you in my clothes, I want you in yours by the time I get back.” I said, heading for the door.
“And when will that be?” she quizzed.
“Tell me you love me.” I said, taking my keys into my palm.
“Love you.” She called, and I closed the door behind me.
Harry’s POV
“Pass the salt?” she said, leaning into me just slightly.
“You’re going to salt your soup before you’ve even tasted it?” Nick said, appalled. She just rolled her eyes and waved the shaker over the steaming liquid. Allie and I had had this discussion several times.
“She salts everything!” I groaned. “I swear she’d put it on ice cream.”
“Exaggerate much?” she said before bringing her spoon to her mouth and sending a quick puff of air over it before placing it between her lips. She seemed to get along with my friends pretty well. Although, I would prefer if she would harass them back as much as they doled out on her. In time, perhaps. Nick was going to be one of the toughest, I sensed. He was just so sarcastic all of the time that you couldn’t tell if you actually had crossed a line, or even if he was genuinely pleased with something. He liked Allie though, I was pretty sure.
Allison preferred dates out with my friends than my family, however. We’d sat through one awkward dinner at my Mum’s. Gemma had been noticeably quiet, and it was tense. My mother kept trying to tell funny stories about our childhoods, hoping to find some sort of common ground between us where we could all silently agree to move on. I am not sure why Gemma was so hard-headed, but I had taken Roxy’s advice. I just didn’t care.
I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her lips on that spoon, and I was increasingly aware of her hand on my thigh. My sandwich sat in front of me, untouched as I pulled my chair closer to the table, her hand immediately sliding into the newly-concealed and expanding fabric of my jeans.
Roxy’s POV
The bathroom still smelled of his soap when I pulled open the glass door and turned the knobs, untying my hair and combing through some of the bigger knots with my fingertips as the water heated to an acceptable temperature.
I immediately felt a little better after scrubbing up and taking my sweet time shaving, the water beading up on the fresh, smooth skin of my legs. I held my head under the stream and let the sound of it on my scalp drown out the hum of my brain. How was I going to tell him that packing my bags and going home was even an option I was considering?
Why was it?
I had only a couple of weeks to decide. I could leave, or I could apply for a new Visa, and stay in the UK as a tourist. A tourist. To me, that word felt cheap, like it would reduce me to a piece of arm candy, or a live-in housekeeper that he occasionally fucked. As much as I knew that I belonged by his side, I didn’t want to be seen as a parasite.
Ever since I began dating Niall, I never once cared what “people” thought about me. But that was only because I knew I was better than anything they could label me as. But now, I wasn’t better.
The Brits don’t hire foreigners without a whole bunch of legal non-sense. So, it was pretty unlikely I would find a position if I looked here, no matter how good my CV. As far as I could tell, the only way I could get my ass back to London was to go home for a bit and work at landing some interviews with American firms that have braches here. I didn’t know how long it would take me, but I what I did know is that I would die trying. I knew that my life needed him in it.
I couldn’t help but smile at the outfit he’d chosen. Not because it was mismatched, but because he had unfolded each piece and laid it out on the bed; on my side of the bed, actually. The arms of the sweater folded in at forty-five degree angles, so it looked like the hands were at the hips. The grey cotton pants had their drawstring tied in a perfect bow, and the two socks had been unfolded and placed into the opening at the legs. It reminded me of those crappy t.v. shows where the person is abducted by aliens and their Earthly clothing is left behind as they are beamed up into the sky.
It had been unfair of me to keep him out of this decision. Nothing was mine alone, anymore. Niall and me, we are a we.
I just needed to find the words.