His hand slowly locked with mine as we walked down the aisle. My eyes scanned the bottles on the shelf, trying to guess what he was looking for. I didn't really like the idea of him drinking, but he never did it around me.
He was quietly mumbling to himself when he stopped and said, "Ah! Here it is." His free hand grasped the wide bottle and he smiled.
He turned and stepped closer to me. He rotated the label so I could see and sighed.
"This is the strongest drink you'll find in this country, but trust me, there's much stronger." His Irish accent reminded me of what he loved to do. Drink. The label read WHISKEY. I peeled my eyes from it.
He held the bottle under his arm as we started walking again. I stayed silent, not even peeking at the stacks of bottles on the shelves. My eyes were glued to my shoes, and occasionally his.
"Hey," he spoke, stopping mid-stride. My eyes reluctantly lifted to his beautiful blue eyes. Whenever he looked at me, my stomach went queazy, and I felt faint.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, slightly lifting his eyebrows.
I smiled and shook my head.
"Nothing could possibly be wrong," I lied. He smiled and pulled me into him. He put his chin on my head and both his arms around me. I could feel the cold bottle against my skin and my love for him, sadly, dimmed. My smile eased and I felt useless.
I gently pushed away from the hug and took his hand again, wanting to forget about everything.
We payed for the drink and walked out to the parking lot. My feet felt heavy and my eyes wanted to fill with tears.
As we got in the car, the heat from the oven-of-a-car weakened me even more. I started the car and turned the cool air on high. We were silent the whole way to his house.
When I pulled in the driveway, he finally spoke up.
"So," he started. I parked the car and turned the air conditioning down to hear him better.
"Do you wanna come over to my house later?" He smiled. I looked at his house briefly before returning his gaze. Everytime my eyes met his I had to smile. I loved him too much.
"Sure." I smiled again and he exited the car. He waved with his free hand and I waved back as I drove away.
Later that night, my phone buzzed.
"C'mon over babe x" read the text from Niall.
I brushed my hair and grabbed my car keys. As I opened the door, I glanced at the clock.
7:46.
I hoped to be back by 10 at the latest.
I arrived at his house and hesitated about turning off the car. I sighed and contemplated turning around and going home. My feelings were all jumbled.
I pulled the keys out of the ignition and sighed sadly. I locked the car, making the horn sound off briefly to let him know I was there. I walked up the path to the door, which I had mentally memorized and could navigate if I was blind. The porch light was on and moths and mosquitoes fluttered around it. The crickets started to chirp as the sun set. It was almost dark.
I looked up at the sign above the door that said, "Horan 216" in fancy cursive letters.
My fingers grasped the door handle slowly and I pushed open the door. He had told me not to knock. The age old memory made me feel nostalgic for simpler times. I still smiled.
I kicked off my shoes as I heard footsteps pound down the stairs.
"Heyyy, (Y/N)!" He yelled excitedly. My smile switched on again as I set my purse down.
He lifted me up by the waist and spun me around. I closed my eyes to prevent dizziness and laughed.
When he set me down, his lips came crashing onto mine. He pulled me against him as if he could fuse us together. I laughed against his lips and my stomach flipped and I let out a small squeal.
He pushed away and half laughed. "What was that?" He wondered. My eyes fluttered open and I realized my hands were holding fistfuls of his shirt in my hands.
My eyes met his as he still held me. His eyes held joy and love. My lips found his for the second time. I had no answer.
After a few more seconds, I pushed away and let go of him.
"Alright," I breathed heavily. "Let's not get too excited." He laughed and took my hand, leading me into his living room. I adjusted my shirt and smiled.
He put the remote into my hands and we sat down on the couch. I flicked on the TV and scrolled through the channels.
I turned on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I had never seen an episode of this show before. He draped his arm across my shoulders and I leaned into him.
"Oh," he said. He slowly got up. He walked into the kitchen and I stayed seated, mildly confused.
I heard his fridge open and smiled. He was probably hungry. I heard liquid poured and my throat felt suddenly dry. Milk would've suited things fine.
I heard his loud footsteps and adjusted myself to sit up.
He plopped down on the couch with two drinks. I, without looking, took the drink as he handed it to me.
"Thanks, Niall," I said, smiling.
Just before my mouth touched the rim of the cup, the smell hit me and I nearly dropped the drink.
A sharp gasp came out of my mouth and he sat up instantly.
"What? What?" He asked. I looked down at my drink and realized what it was. My stomach was stabbed with horror and pain.
"Niall?!" I shrieked. His hands hovered above me as if ready to attack something.
"What? What?" He asked again, more panicked.
"Why would you give me this?" I asked, setting the whiskey on the coffee table.
"I thought you would want some!" He explained.
"No!" I exclaimed. I felt sick to my stomach. I sat back against the couch.
"Why not?" He asked, quieter.
"Niall," I sighed. "You know I don't drink."
His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me. "Well can't you just try some?"
I stayed quiet at his question. Anger and frustration made my cheeks flush red.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked quietly. If I said it any louder I might've screamed.
"No." His hand picked up my drink and put in mine again. "Just try abit," he said happily. He took a swig. "See? Like that."
I looked down at the alcohol in my hand by the light of the TV. I rolled my eyes and put it down again.
"No, Niall. I'm not going to drink that," I said calmly.
"(Y/N)," he half-laughed. I didn't find it funny. "Don't be stubborn."
I didn't meet his eye. "Niall, you're not gonna make me drink that."
He took a large gulp and set his down. He shoved mine back into my hands and sighed. His breath smelled like death. He was drunk and I wanted to leave.
"Drink it," he grunted. He forced the glass up towards my mouth and I pushed down.
"Niall!" I shouted, closing my eyes and turning my head away from it. My hands slipped on the condensation and he won. The drink, pushed upwards, missed my face. It did, however, drench my torso.
I shrieked, my eyes still closed.
"Tada!" The guy on the TV shouted.
My eyes popped open as I looked down at myself. I sighed and frowned.
Niall finished his glass in one last gulp and sat back against the couch. "Are you happy, love?" He said, thick with what sounded like sleep, but I knew wasn't.
I stood up and looked at him. My stomach twisted into a large knot as the drink dripped onto the floor and slipped down my legs, too.
My hand came up and I struck him on his left cheek. He grunted and I turned to run. I grabbed my purse and flip flops and threw open the door.
My chest hurt as my eyes filled with tears.
"(Y/N)!" He called after me from inside the house. I didn't care to close the door.
I ran to my car and attempted to open the door. I fumbled with my keys and stupidly dropped them. His footsteps were close behind me and I grabbed my keys as he grabbed me.
His hand forcefully grabbed my wrist. I didn't look at him.
"(Y/N)," he said, breathless. A cry escaped me and he pulled me close to him. I looked at him quickly.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. I looked at him again. His eyes were clearer and so was his voice. I must have slapped him sober. Good.
I looked down again as I pulled my wrist away and sniffled. My shirt smelled like crap and I just wanted to go home.
His fingers gently lifted my chin. "Don't cry," he said softly. I tried not to find comfort in his voice. He gently wiped away the tears that lined my cheeks. I didn't look him in the eyes.
He hugged me. For a few minutes, we just stayed there. I didn't protest, and he didn't move. My wet shirt felt thin against his chest, but I was beginning not to mind.
He pulled away and I sniffled again.
My hands were somehow on his arms, my keys around my index finger. I looked into his eyes, which I could barely see in the darkness. My hands slowly moved up to stroke his hair.
I don't know what courage I had left or where it had been hiding, but I pulled myself upwards and surprised myself.
As I kissed him, he stayed completely still, like before. He didn't kiss back and I stopped, realizing this.
"Niall?" I asked. He looked at me, but said nothing, his face blank.
"Niall, I umm..." I looked at his lips accidentally. "I'm sorry. And I, uh..." My voice faltered and he snaked his arms around my waist.
"I love you, Niall," I whispered. Still staring at his lips, he smiled.
"I love you."
He kissed me and I tasted a drug of my own.