"I'm sorry, but I was told I can't talk to you."
I stared at the boy sitting on my right, who was currently refusing to give me eye contact. Instead, he kept his head bent and body turned away while he scrawled furiously on his paper. All I had asked for was an answer on the math sheets we were currently working on in class (because I had most definently probably gotten it wrong) but instead I get a stammering mess of a classmate.
"What do you mean?" I exclaimed in exasperation, "We've been sitting next to each other all year."
He glanced around the classroom nervously, gnawing on the end of his pencil. "And it's been fun, but I'm only doing what I was told."
"And who told you that?" I asked.
The boy paused, looking hesitant before he finally says, "Niall Horan."
"You've got to be kidding me," I deadpanned, making several people turn around at the sound of my outburst. In all honesty, I shouldn't be surprised. All my recent problems seem to be rooted back to that lilac head of hair. Assaulting me in the library and forcing his way into my house was one thing, but now telling other people they can't talk to me? That was a whole new level of controlling maniac. I made a mental note to never introduce myself to odd new kids again.
"Yeah," he continued, doodling absently on the cover of his notebook, "In the lockeroom we were talking about some of the stranger girls we could totally get ourselves off on, and I said you-"
"Wait, why am I considered a weirdo," I interrupted haughtily, then paused, "Why do boys even have these conversations. I didn't ask for these details."
He shrugged, looking alarmingly casual about the whole thing. "But when he heard that, he got all mad, and sort of threatened me and told me I'd better back off."
And so, when the bell rang, I did something I never thought I would; I got up and actually went looking for Niall.
"You look like you're on a mission," Maggie commented as I pushed my way through the hall, eyes roaming over the crowd for a flash of purple or swirl of ink that painted his pale skin.
"I'm looking for Niall," I grumbled, "Have you seen him?"
"Yeah, sitting behind bars ten years from now."
Her guess was relatively close, because I did end up finding him sitting slouched and looking irritated in the plastic waiting chair outside of the principles office. His eyebrows arched in surprise and a smile broke across his face when he saw me approaching.
"Sweetheart," he greeted, "For what do I owe this pleasure?"
I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips, flicking his hands away as they graze along my wrist. I was not in the mood for his trouble today. "Why are you telling people they can't talk to me?" I demanded.
Niall ignored the question and slid a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tipped one out, "Getting right to it then, aren't you?"
"You can't just tell people that," I huffed angrily.
"But I did," he replied, and held the pack out to me, "Would you like one?"
I shook my head, watching curiously as he pulled a cracked blue lighter from his pocket and made it spark, causing a tiny orange flame to flare up and dance dangerously close to his face. Putting the cigarette to his lips, he lit it and took a slow drag.
"We're in school," I pointed out, shocked by the audacity he has to just smoke right in the middle of the hall, right in front of the principles office no less.
Niall blew out a thin stream of smoke towards me, "Good observation skills, babe."
"Stop ignoring my question," I said, struggling not to cough.
"I just get very possessive of things," Niall explained calmly, "And I get very jealous when I hear the way other boys talk about you. Such rude things about such a sweet girl."
"So you threatened them?" I practically shouted, grabbing a handful of my hair in frustration.
"And I'll threaten more if I have to, so don't worry."
I groaned, feeling myself getting so angry at this boy who decided to crash into my life and just start to change things. And he just sits there, not seeing the problem, looking so smug as he smokes and stares with those blue eyes that remind me of the lake early in the morning, crystal and clear, and they shouldn't be so beautiful on such a mean person.
"You can't just control things like that," I snapped, "Ugh, I just- ugh."
Niall gives me a genuine smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, "Doesn't mean I won't try."
I stared at him for a moment and he stared right back, only a thin cloud of cigarette smoke separating us. After a moments pause I leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, sliding down onto the tiled floor a safe distance away. The bells have long rung by now and hallways empty besides a scattered few people sprinting to class.
"Listen, Niall," I said suddenly, "I'm not the type of girl you're looking for to- well, satisfy your needs. You probably want someone more willing." Approaching from down the hall I spotted Rebecca Worthing, a cookie-cutter blonde whose passions included making-out with strangers and sparkly nail polish.
"Becca," I said, stopping her as she strutted past, apparently not too worried about being late. "My pal. My comrade. My equal."
Her eye twitched. "Who are you."
"Unimportant," I continued, directing her to stand in front Niall, "I'm here to introduce you to this hormonal male who is looking for a good hook-up." I gave Niall a thumbs-up from behind her back. "You in?"
"Sure," she shrugged, tossing her hair and smiling at him, choking everyone in the proximity with the smell of perfume, "Wanna go, like, to an empty classroom and do it?"
"What a gem," I exclaimed sincerely, shaking my head. "She's ready to go right now. Wastes no time. Well, you two kids have fun getting it on in the seductive setting of a school building."
I began to back away, until Niall held a hand up at me.
"Abbey, you don't leave." He looked at Becca. "You. Go." She shrugged and walked away as though she had just stopped by to talk about the weather. Niall tilted his head at me, as though I was like a book he didn't quite understand.
"I've been with enough people like her," he said, flicking an ember onto the floor and rubbing it out with his sneaker, "I'm currently looking for someone different."
"Ah," I exclaimed, "So to make you even better, you're probably oozing with sexually transmitted diseases. How cute."
He shrugged, smiling, and his teeth glowed in the faint light of his cigarette. "Nothing turns someone on like a boy festering with chlamydia."
I laughed at this, and my laughter echoed down the quiet hallway as Niall cocked his head listened like it was music. This immediatly silenced me as I felt the tension return.
"I like hearing you laugh," he declared, bending his pointer finger to beckon me over, "Come here."
I regarded him suspiciously, "Why."
"Abbey, just come here." he repeated sternly, mouth tightening around his cigarette.
"Right there?" I said, pointing vaguely into the empty space beside him.
"No."
I point in the opposite direction. "Over there."
His thin lips crack into a smile. "Oh, Abbey Farrell, such grace you use to avoid things."
I decided to humor him as I got to my feet and shimmied (I mean that literally) over, making sure to stay a few feet away. Evidently that wasn't far enough, because he suddenly reached out and snagged the edge of my school skirt to reel me in towards him.
"Niall!" I shrieked, struggling to keep the skirt from going any higher. He tugs me towards him and grabs my hips, using my disrupted balance to make me stagger onto his lap. Immediatly I panicked and tried to stand up, only to be gently pulled down again.
"Sit," he commanded, as though I'm a dog, "Stay."
I crossed my arms tight against my chest, sitting awkwardly on his lap while his hands ghost along my sides to keep me in place. I closed my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, as I've been instructed to do, to fight off the panic attack threatening at the edge of my mind. I feel his hand settle carefully on the small of my back. The warmth from his skin could be felt through my shirt. I am sitting on a person and I am touching a person (who is, cue the gasps, a boy) and I am okay.
"You're scared," Niall observed, watching me carefully. Apparently I am not okay.
I let out a slow whoosh of air, "I'm always scared."
"Of touching?"
"Of you."
Niall continued to scrutinize me before saying, "How did I scare you?"
"Well, gee, why the fu-"
The principle's door opened suddenly, and a forlorn looking boy exited and began speed walking down the hallway as if to get as far away as he possibly can. I scrambled from Niall's lap just as the principle Mr. Owens emerged moments later and paused in the doorway. "Niall Horan? You're next."
Our principle wears the same suit and black tie everyday, standing tall and balding with dark eyes and a hooked nose. All he needs to do is just give you a look and you feel like you've done something wrong. He's the dictator of the school. The one who banned all individuality and fun, and decided that field trips were a waste of time.
"Why do I smell smoke?" Mr. Owens asked as he sniffed the air, nostrils flaring.
Niall took another drag, "Cuz I'm lighting a fucking scented candle."
I made the horrible mistake of laughing. Immediatly I clamp a hand over my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut. Mr. Owens snatched the cigarette from Niall's mouth and tossed it in a nearby garbage can.
"Abbey, what are you doing here?" Mr. Owen growled, making me instantly freeze up. "Don't you have class right now?" I never did react well whenever he talked to me, considering he scares the living day lights out of every human being alive.
"Um-" I stammer, tugging my sleeves over my hands and fidgeting, "Well. Class was canceled. There was a fire. I mean- a fiery passion for learning. Wait. Um." But it seems like there is one person who is not afraid of him, and that person is Niall Horan.
"Excuse me," Niall interrupted, looking angry as he watched me stutter. He got to his feet and moved in front of me, blocking me from view. "But I do believe you and I have a date, and I have a very busy schedule, so let's get to it. You can terrorize young girls in your free time."
Mr. Owen growled and scoffed and muttered something about how horrible the youth is these days, but surprisingly complied and disappeard in his office. I let out a deep sigh of relief and feel the tension in my muscles relax. Niall took a couple steps towards the door, turned around, and swooped in to kiss me on the cheek. I'm too surprised to move as he remained bent down with his lips planted there for what seems like a long period of time, before drawing away.
He doesn't say anything as he heads inside, but leaves me standing there with the lingering reminder of his warm lips on my skin. And I don't want to say it felt nice, because I don't like him or being touched or the color lilac in general, and like- how dare he.
But yeah, it felt nice.
----------------------------------------
A couple hours later I'm at work, even though my mind isn't really there. I'm really thinking about what to do when you can be so angry at someone just kissing you but still feel upset that they missed your lips at the same time.
I worked at a tiny diner downtown called Sam's Deli, with a running record as being the number one waitress there who has spilled the most food (we have a tally going). But that evening I worked the cash register- a little distractedly may I add- and I had just come to the conclusion that I do not like Niall Horan with his weid hair and tattooes. I remember everything he's done and how many times he's made me cry, and all that does is fuel this deep hate fire. He knows how I feel about touching and yet he refused to stop.
So by the time I see him walking in, I've completely forgotten my mushy feelings from earlier and have resorted to slamming the cash register shut with furious vigor. The bell over the door chimed to signal his arrival, and I look up just in time to dive behind the counter.
"What are you doing?" my co-worker Stephanie asked, emerging from the kitchen with a stack of napkins to see me crouched on the floor.
"Hiding," I whispered, "Can you cover for me?"
Her brown eyes scanned the restaurant, "Who're you hiding from?"
I get down on my stomach and begin to crawl towards the kitchen, dodging suspicious splatters of food."The boy with lilac hair. Scary looking."
"Oh," she said after a moment, "That one. Sweet tats. I got you, don't worry."
I continued to move stealthily, and had practically made it to safety of the swinging door when I heard that voice of his go, "Can I talk to Abbey?" I froze and held my breath, trying to remain hidden.
"She's not working tonight," Stephanie replied smoothly, "How about you try tomorrow?"
"I know she's here," he said in a low, almost threatening voice. My mouth drops open and I swear quietly. How did he find out I work here? I glanced over my shoulder and can only make out the tips of his lilac hair from this angle.
Stephanie twists the hem of her shirt, "Uh. I don't-"
"Don't make me come back there," he grumbled, as though his patience had already wore thin, "I don't appreciate being lied to."
Niall planted his hands against the counter and leaned over, suddenly locking eyes with me face-down, wiggling on the floor. "There you are, Abbey."