* Warning: Adult content. *
I spent the rest of the week searching for a job. Finally, on Friday, I spoke with the owner of a small market down the street, who offered me a low-paying job at the cash register. I'd already spent some time studying European money and felt confident I could run a register by myself. The shop owner said I could start the following week, as long as my background check came back clean. I was excited to have an income of my own, even if it wouldn't add up to much.
On Saturday morning, I call Eleanor. She picks up on the first ring.
"Hey, Em," she says into the phone. I hear crunching and assume she's eating a bowl of her favorite cereal, corn flakes. When I told her I wasn't the biggest fan of corn flakes myself, she nearly fainted. "What's up?"
"I'm bored," I tell her. "I think today's a lazy day."
"Wanna come over and watch some TV?" she asks. I glance around my room at the pile of unpacked boxes still all over the floor.
"I still haven't unpacked," I tell her. I hear Eleanor verbally gasp.
"What?! I'm on my way." She hangs up before I can respond. A few seconds later, I hear a muffled knock. I run down the stairs just as my dad opens the door.
"Hello, Mister Cohen," Eleanor says chirpily. "My name is Eleanor. I'm going to be your daughter's new best friend. Today we're unpacking her bedroom-" She peers around my dad's shoulder and meets my eyes with a stern look. "-finally."
My dad stares down at the thin woman in front of him. He looks over his shoulder at me. I give him an innocent smile and shrug slowly. He nods and turns to Eleanor, then steps aside and gestures for her to come in.
"Welcome to our home, Eleanor," he says with a friendly grin. She brushes past him and gives him a quick smile.
"Thanks, Mister Cohen. It's a pleasure to be here."
"Please," my dad says, pushing the door shut, "Mister Cohen was my father. You can call me Adam."
"Okay, Adam," Eleanor says. She sticks out her hand, and I watch my dad shake it firmly. Then she turns and smiles at me.
"Let's go," she says, pushing me up the stairs.
"Have fun!" Dad calls up the stairs.
Eleanor tells me the boys are at the studio again today, that Louis barely made it home for a full night's sleep last night before the producer called early this morning and told him to come back. She plays One Direction's first album while we unpack boxes and begin organizing my bedroom. I recognize more songs than I thought I would and can't help but get butterflies in my stomach every time I hear Niall's voice through the speaker. He doesn't have many solos, which surprises me, considering how great of a singer he is.
"Seriously?" I hear Eleanor say suddenly. I turn and see her holding up a pair of my underwear, staring at me with a look of disbelief. My eyes widen in embarrassment. She chuckles and tosses them towards the dresser. "Don't worry, Em. We'll go shopping, just the two of us, and I'll take you to my favorite store for some new panties."
Being friends with a real adult is so strange. Eleanor's got a modeling job that gives her lots of free time and plenty of money. She lives with her boyfriend in a huge apartment in London and spends her free time hanging out with the most famous boy band in the world. I didn't even get my diploma, have only made one real friend before we moved to London, and haven't been on a single date my whole young adult life. Was there something I should've been doing besides school and work?
"Panties?" I say uneasily. "I don't even know what those are, Eleanor."
"At least you know what they're not," she says jokingly, rummaging through the next box.
A couple hours later, my room is set up. We hung twinkling lights above my bed frame, organized my bookshelf, hung up all my clothes, and even took a selfie with my Polaroid camera. She put it next to the photo of me and Emily on top of the dresser.
"Is that Emily?" Eleanor asks. I nod.
"Yeah. She hasn't responded to any of my texts since we moved."
Eleanor frowns. "Some friend," she says. "How long did you know her?"
"Only six months," I say, "but that's the longest we ever stayed at one place."
"Six months?" Eleanor says loudly. "Geez. I've lived in London most of my life. We moved here from a small suburb when I was seven."
"You're lucky," I told her. "I've never had anywhere to call home."
Eleanor gives me a sad smile. "Well, you do now."
I smile weakly back. "Do you have any siblings?" I ask casually.
"Nope," she says quickly. "You?"
I hesitate, not sure if I should be honest or lie. I decide, after getting to know Eleanor this past week, that she seems trustworthy and kind enough to handle the truth.
"I had a brother," I tell her quietly. She stops alphabetizing my books and looks at me. I meet her eyes. She stands and goes to sit beside me on the bed.
"What happened?" she asks. I take a breath.
Remember what Doctor Allred told you, I tell myself. Inhale. Count to ten. Exhale. Repeat.
My breath catches in my throat. Eleanor notices my change in demeanor and sets a gentle hand on my leg. "It's okay, Em," she says calmly. I meet her brown eyes and feel myself starting to relax. "You don't have to tell me."
I nod and continue to focus on my breathing. She gets me a glass of water, I tell her I'm okay, and we go to her apartment. We watch a movie without talking. At 8:30pm, we hear keys jangling and Louis walks inside.
"Hey, Lou," Eleanor says with a smile. She stands and walks in his direction. The couple begins to mumble quietly to one another. Niall walks in shortly after looking incredibly upset. His eyes are red and puffy, and he looks about ready to break.
"What happened?" I say, standing quickly. Eleanor stops talking to Louis and follows my gaze. Noticing his expression, she reaches for him, but Niall pulls away. Then, he walks right up to me.
"Can I talk to you?" he asks. His voice is on the verge of tears.
"Sure," I nod. He leads me into the bathroom and closes the door. "What's going on, Niall?"
"You're the only person I wanted to see today," he tells me. "God, people can be so mean."
"What people?" My heart leaps as I remember the letter from earlier this week, the one threatening me to stay away from the band. Did he find out about it? "What happened?"
"The fans," he says. He sits on the toilet seat and puts his head in his hands. I watch him, confused, then sit on the edge of the bathtub.
"The fans?" I repeat. "What do you mean?"
"They don't like me," he says, lifting his head. "They want me to leave the band."
"That's not true," I tell him. I'm trying to be reassuring, but he doesn't seem to notice. "You're in the most famous boy band in the world. They love you."
"They don't," he snaps. "They hate that I'm Irish. They want a real British boyband, like the Beatles."
"That's ridiculous," I tell him. He shakes his head and stands abruptly, clearly frustrated. I stand, too. I expect him to lash out at me, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath and meets my eyes.
"I didn't get a single solo today," he tells me. "Not one."
The tears in his eyes are on the brink of falling from his light brown lashes. I notice dark roots poking out from beneath a pile of wavy blond hair. His lips are set in a thin line. I gaze at his stubble and the indent at the base of his chin. His blue eyes are shining, reflecting the dim lighting from above the bathroom mirror.
"They used to hate my crooked teeth," he tells me, staring into my eyes with such intensity it takes me all the strength I can muster not to look away. "Then they hated my accent in the songs. Now they just hate me."
"I don't hate you," I tell him quietly. As I say it, I realize how stupid it sounds. The start of a smile pokes at the corner of his perfect lips. We watch each other carefully; the only sound between us is our own breathing. Then a sense of urgency starts in my stomach, like I haven't eaten anything in days. An odd tingling sensation starts at my fingertips and travels to my neck, down my spine and into my toes. My lips part and I let out a small breath, unsure of this new, instinctive feeling.
I step forward and place both hands on Niall's chest. He's warmer than I expected, radiating heat through his shirt like he just ran a marathon in summer heat. His heart is racing, and I realize mine is, too. His hand reaches up to caress my jaw, and he pulls me forward.
Our lips collide. Fireworks explode in my entire being. The tingling sensation is heightened beyond anything I could've imagined. I relax into the kiss as he parts my lips with his, and I feel his tongue against mine. Niall pulls at my waist with his other hand. My breasts press against his body. I reach up, one hand going to his neck, the other to his waist, where I try to pull him closer, but fail, because we're as close as physically possible, but somehow it feels like we aren't close enough.
He moans into my mouth, deepening the kiss, and uses both hands to maneuver my body against the counter. He picks me up with ease and drops me beside the sink, then separates my legs with a quick motion of his hips.
Our kiss tastes like a chocolate dipped strawberry: sweet and savory. Our tongues frisk around and against each other, lips moving together like two figure skaters performing a dance they'd practiced for years. His hands are all over me: my neck, my hair, my waist. He puts both hands on my lower back and aggressively pulls me towards him. I feel his hard member press up against my clit. My heart races and my whole body tingles.
Niall's hand reaches in between my thighs and fumbles with the band of my underwear. He finds my clit almost immediately and begins to rub in a quick, circular motion that instantly causes a moan to escape my lips. I try to pull away, embarrassed at my vocalization, but his other hand is on my hip, keeping me from escaping this newfound pleasure. His hand moves further down, and I feel two fingers enter me. Instinctively, my hips move with his motions. His kisses are desperate and energetic, like he'd been waiting for this moment a long time.
A sensation begins deep within me. It's something I've never felt before, like I'm a bucket of water about to overflow. My heart is racing in my chest; I feel Niall's moist face brush against my jaw and earlobe as he kisses my neck. My knees tremble, and I prepare for what I expect will be a life-changing experience...
A knock sounds at the bathroom door. Niall and I pull away from the kiss; his fingers stop moving against my privates, and the sensation disappears from my body.
"Hey," Eleanor says in a quiet, concerned tone. "Is everything okay?"
Niall pulls away from me. "Yeah," he says quickly, giving me a quick smirk as he lifts me from the counter. "We're fine!"
All the heat from my body rushes to my face, and I blush feverishly as I adjust my underwear and pull down on the hem of my dress. I turn and look at our reflections in the mirror.
Niall is obviously flushed, with red, swollen lips, his hard member pressed against the fabric of his jeans. A tiny drop of blood forms on my bottom lip, something I hadn't realized in the heat of the moment. Niall turns to me, and I meet his eyes. His hand reaches for my face; he brushes his thumb against my bottom lip. I lean into his touch.
"We should probably leave before Eleanor breaks down the door," he whispers humorously. I giggle, splash cold water on my face quickly, and we exit the bathroom. Eleanor is standing outside the door, her brows furrowed. When she sees our complexions, a mischievous grin slowly creeps onto her face.
"Have a good talk, did you?" she asks with a hint of skepticism.
"Yep," Niall says, his hand reaching for my waist. He pulls me closer to him, and I can't help but smile. Eleanor watches us with a look of satisfaction.
"Great," Eleanor says slowly. "So are you two, like, together now, or...?"
"No!" Niall and I both say quickly. She raises an eyebrow, grinning even wider.
"Okay," she says, obviously not convinced, then reaches forward and pulls me away from Niall by my arm. She brings me to the kitchen and stares at me with wide eyes. "Tell me what happened."
"We... talked," I tell her. Her face is frozen. She's expecting me to say more. "He said the fans don't like him." She continues to stare. "Nothing happened," I lie. Her face falls.
"Lame," she says with a pout, then she grins again. "He so likes you." She pokes at my stomach teasingly. I laugh and push her hands away.
"Maybe," I shrug casually. My stomach's tied in knots. Definitely. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Eleanor. I'm looking for friends."
"Oh, you've got friends." She rolls her eyes. "You've got five friends and one boyfriend." We giggle together, then she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "Wait, Niall said the fans don't like him?"
"Yeah," I say. "Something about having crooked teeth and him being Irish?"
Eleanor sighs. "Anyone with fans has haters. He knows that. I didn't know it had gotten worse."
"Worse?"
She nods. "All the other boys got so much love when they first got discovered, but Niall was the odd one out. Blond hair, crooked teeth. He got braces a few years ago. The fans put so much pressure on him, and he's never let it go."
"Geez," I mumble. "Some fans they are if they're mean."
"Most of them are great," she says with a smile. "Everybody wants to marry Harry. You should see the signs those girls come up with for concerts. They're actually really impressive."
Niall pokes his head into the kitchen and grins at us. "I'm heading off," he says, looking at me. I watch him with a smile. "Okay," he says awkwardly, then waves. "Bye, Emma."
"Bye, Niall," I say. He leaves. Eleanor and I meet each other's eyes and burst into a fit of giggles.
A/N - Thank you for reading. :) I hope you liked the spicy scene, LOL. It's strange rewriting this fanfiction as an actual adult. ~ M