I'm woken by the sound of music. Not the classic movie starring Julie Andrews, but Niall's phone blasting "I Love You Like A Love Song" by Selena Gomez. And the Scene, I guess, whoever that is.
"Interesting wake-up music," I mumble. When he woke up earlier this morning, I guess, he moved back over to his side of the elevator, because I wake up cuddling a plastic bag. I'm not disappointed or heartbroken, though. We both needed warmth so we used each other's. It wasn't romantic; it was survival.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" Niall pauses the music.
"Yeah, but I was going to get up anyway," I respond as I sit up. "What time is it?"
"7:50," Niall answers. "And still nobody's here."
Damn. When does work start at this place? I've regrettably accepted that my father doesn't work in this building and that both Niall and I got our addresses wrong, but that still doesn't explain why nobody's come to help us yet.
Niall suddenly sits up. "Erin I just thought of something."
"What?" I hope he has a brilliant plan for getting us out of here. "Is it an escape plan? If it is, can we wait a bit? I'm tired as hell and I'll probably mess up and, you know, fall to my miserable death."
Niall shakes his head. "No. Not an escape plan. Just an idea as to why nobody's found us yet." I pout, but I motion for him to continue.
"Do you think there might be another lift?" Niall asks, rolling up his sleeves. "Like, one in the back, just for employees?"
I can honestly say I never once thought about that being a possibility. "That would explain why nobody's fixed this elevator yet, but why hasn't anybody heard us?"
Niall puts his hand to his chin and rubs it as if he has facial hair. "They could be, like, painting the walls of the first six floors so nobody was even there to hear us."
That doesn't sound very likely to me but since we have no other ideas, I accept it. The only way we'll actually know is if we get rescued. When we get rescued. I must stay positive.
"Niall, can I make a request?" I ask timidly.
"Yeah, sure," he answers.
"If your management gets us out, and they bring cameras, can you ask them not to publish pictures of me?"
Yes, I am batshit crazy.
"Uh, I guess. Why?" Niall reaches into the plastic bags and pulls out some brownies. He opens the box and eats an entire brownie in one bite.
Om nom nom.
"I don't really want my claim to fame being the nameless girl who was stuck in an elevator with a member of One Direction," I state truthfully, moving next to him so I can grab myself a brownie. Instead of completely inhaling it like Niall keeps doing, I take three bites before it's gone.
"Okay that's fine," Niall shrugs. "But I want to show the boys what it's like in here, and you as well, so can I at least take a few pictures?"
I ponder this for a second. What harm could the other guys possibly do if they see my picture? They'd probably forget it, just like Niall will.
"As long as the boys are the only people you show, I'm fine with it." I grab another brownie, but this time I nibble around the edges.
"Yay!" Niall takes out his iPhone. "Smile!"
I try to put on my most flattering smile, but I'm not very photogenic so it probably came out looking like a horse.
We take a lot of pictures: one of us, both of us, eating food, clawing the walls, pouting, yelling. We pretty much tell the story of what we've been doing through pictures.
Maybe if he has pictures of me on his phone, he won't forget me. He probably has hundreds of pictures with fans, though, and after he shows the other guys he'll most likely erase all these photos.
"Hey, Erin," Niall begins after we finish taking pictures. We took a total of 34 photos. He's bound to keep one of them. "Just wondering, but how did you find out about One Direction?"
Oh God I've been dreading this question. My introduction to his band was a bit... unconventional, to say the least. I guess I better start this carefully. Tip-toe, tip-toe.
"I was probably one of the last people to find out about you guys," I admit. "I had heard 'What Makes You Beautiful' hundreds of times before I knew who it was by..."
I go on to tell him about my entire One Direction discovery and attachment. The story is simple, but effective. I had gone on some writing website and I was looking through the most popular stories list when I came across a fanfiction that had an intriguing plot. I, not having heard of One Direction before, thought it was an original content story, not a fanfiction. I read the whole thing and I became scarily attached to the characters. When I had completed it, I wanted to read more of it straight away, so I, hoping the author had posted about this fictional band elsewhere, Google'd "One Direction".
I was shocked to find out this band was actually real. I was directed to their first video diary and from there my interest grew into the almost-obsession it is today.
"That is a bit...odd..." Niall comments when I'm finished with my slightly embarrassing tale. "Um...what was the story about?"
"You know about Larry Stylinson fanfiction stories, I'm sure," I guess. Niall nods. "Well that's what it was."
"What did I do in it?" he wonders.
"Well, at first you were just a side character," I divulge. "You helped Louis' character accept his feelings for Harry. Harry sort of dealt with it on his own."
"And after that?" Niall looks at me with curious eyes. I wish I had Wi-Fi so I could just read the story to him.
"Liam's character develops feelings for Louis, too," I reveal. "But Louis loves Harry, not Liam, so Liam sort of uses your character as a rebound. The story ends with Louis and Harry happily together and you and Liam trying to figure out your feelings."
"And Zayn?"
"Straight as a ruler." Niall lets out a howling laugh.
"You're funny, you know that?" he says to me, poking my shoulder.
I always feel awkward when someone says something nice to me. I know I should say thank you, but I'm afraid that will make me seem vain. If I don't accept their praise, I look rude, or worse: fishing for compliments. I would rather look selfish than manipulative, so I usually just say a quick thanks and change the subject.
"Thank you," I respond awkwardly. Pause. "So what's up...?"
"Nothing, just stuck in a box with some ginger who read a slash story about me. And liked it." Niall grins devilishly.
If I were British, I'd have a few choice words for this boy right about now, because their insults are much more impressive. But since I'm just a silly American, and any Brit listening to me try to speak their lingo would shake their head in shame, I'll have to settle with 'douchenozzle'.
Not very poetic, not very adult, but it gets the job done.
"It wasn't just about you," I try to defend myself. "Your character wasn't even important 'til, like, the 25th chapter."
"You read 25 chapters of a slash story?" Niall's grin widens even more, baring his braces.
"Yes I did." I hold my head up as dignified as I can manage. "I think it was even longer."
"That's what she said," Niall snickers, grabbing another brownie and stuffing it into his mouth, crumbs falling onto his sweatshirt.
Sigh. Boys, am I right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
At 9:45 we hear noises from somewhere in the building. They sound like people, but they're muddled. I look to Niall, hoping he has an idea for what we can do. He just shrugs and waves his hand, telling me to do whatever I wish.
Well, I wish to get the fuck out of this box. I stand up.
"HEY! ANYBODY OUT THERE?" I bang on the elevator doors. "WE WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"
Niall stands up as well and starts jumping up and down. "I DON'T WANT TO PISS IN A HOLE AGAIN!"
We wait a couple of moments after making all of that racket.
No answer.
We're both about to sit down when we feel the elevator jolt. I stumble into Niall and we hit the wall as the elevator jolts again. We stand there motionless, his arm around me, as we feel the elevator going down. I grin at Niall with relief and he does the same back. I remove his arm from my shoulder and start gathering up the bags I brought. He looks at the bags, then up at me with a pouty look. I sigh and give him one of them.
"Consider it a parting gift," I smile. "And what will you give me? Other than, of course, the privilege of finally meeting you?"
"I think that's enough of a gift," he says arrogantly. I roll my eyes and smirk at him.
"Just kidding," Niall laughs. "Check your Twitter later today for your gift. It'll be much better than a bag of food."
I roll my eyes again. The ego on this boy is astounding. Yeah, having him follow me on Twitter will be cool, but I've already spent almost a full day with him. I guess he'll make the whole band follow me. That's definitely worth a bag of junk food.
We turn back to the elevator doors. Two more floors to go and we'll be free. We can go our separate ways and only have a website with which to communicate.
"Do you think people we know will be out there?" I ask, hoping that it's my family and not Niall's entourage.
"I dunno," Niall whispers. "But if they've got cameras, I'll make sure to talk to them. When the whole story isn't told in addition to the pictures, rumors get spread and people get hurt."
I nod, understanding that the media can be a horrible bitch sometimes.
DING! The elevator stops. The doors open dramatically.
Instead of a full camera crew or my mother and a policeman, an old man in a dark blue jumpsuit stands outside the elevator. His mustache looks like a smaller, greyer version of the broom he's holding next to him. He stares at us with wide eyes.
"Hi," Niall offers. "Thank you for bringing the lift down, man."
"Yes thank you so much," I add, looking at his name tag. "Warren. We've been in there for almost a day."
Warren just nods, then shakes his head, then nods.
"Ms. Nagami!" he yells, a Southern twang in his voice. "Ms. Nagami, you gotta get here right now!"
Niall and I exchange one awkward glance then look away quickly. Can't we just leave and be on with it?
A short, thin, Asian woman with her hair in a bun skitters over to the trio of Warren, Niall and I. She regards us thoughtfully, tugging at the sleeves of her peach turtleneck.
"Who are these children?" Ms. Nagami asks Warren. I swear I can hear the old man's eyes roll.
"They been stuck in this here elevator for the last day, Miss," Warren drawls. "I thought you were supposed to redirect people to the back elevator. This one's always freezin' up and the doors are too thick for anyone outside to hear anyone inside."
Niall and I look at each other again and he has a smug smile plastered to his face. I snarl almost unnoticeable and quickly turn back to the other two.
"I have been," Ms. Nagami protests. "Everyone I've seen come into this building I've told to go to the other elevator."
"Did ya'll kids see this woman at any time yesterday?" Warren smirks and readjusts his grip on the broom.
I don't want to throw Ms. Nagami under the bus by saying I've never seen her before. Luckily for my conscience, out of the corner of my eye I see Niall shake his head. Warren takes that as an answer from both of us and his smug look grows.
"Ms. Nagami," Warren begins slyly. His voice is so oily it makes me feel like I'm eating McDonald's fries. And those are some damn oily fries. "Did you leave yer post at anytime between 9 and 5 yesterday?"
Ms. Nagami focuses, scratching her head. "Well, I did eat some of a tamale, but I don't normally do well with Mexican food, so I had to use the bathroom. They...they could've walked in then."
Near the end of her confession, Ms. Nagami begins to tear up. I feel really bad for her. Nobody can control their stomachs, especially after eating the delicious-yet-horrible-digestion-inducing cuisine of good old Mexico.
"Honestly, they pay you way more than they should," Warren taunts. "I should be doin' yer job and you should be sweepin' and fixin' shit."
"I've only been here a month," Ms. Nagami points out.
"And you already messed up big time!" Warren exclaims, lifting his broom in the air dramatically. "Mr. Miller's probably goin' to fire you for these!" Warren points at Niall and I like we're parasites. Well then!
"Do you plan on suing this woman?" Warren asks us. I shake my head without hesitation.
"No. It wasn't her fault," I defend her meekly.
"Yeah," Niall agrees. I expect him to say more but he just stays awkwardly silent after that.
Ms. Nagami smiles at us gratefully, her dimples fully present. "Do you need me to call you a cab, then?"
"I can walk home," I decline politely. "I'd rather show up to my house on foot."
"I could use a ride," Niall raises his hand like he's in school. "I don't really know my way around this place."
"I'll go call a taxi," Ms. Nagami promises. "Thank you for taking this misunderstanding so well."
She walks back to her desk and I assume she's calling Niall a cab. We stand there silent until she returns, a smile still on her face.
"The cab should arrive for you in about fifteen minutes, sir," she regales to Niall. Niall thanks her and we bid the woman good day. We both silently agree that Warren is a bit of an asshole, so we only say a gruff thank you to him.
Niall and I walk out onto the pavement, the ficus impostors still sitting there as misleading as before. It's just as sunny as it was yesterday, except a bit colder since it's only about ten o'clock.
"She said fifteen minutes?" I ask Niall, though I remember the answer. I just want to stall and try to end this once-in-a-lifetime meet-up on a good note.
"Yeah pretty sure," Niall answers while looking at his phone.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
Both our phones begin to vibrate repeatedly, the messages they should have been receiving earlier pouring in. Mine stops after twenty-two, but Niall's goes on for sixty-five buzzes.
"You gonna answer any of those?" I point to Niall's phone.
"Nah," he responds nonchalantly. "I figure I don't have to do that if I just show up."
I agree with him. I'm not going to call any of these people back until I'm home because a guaranteed half of them are probably from my mom.
"So I guess I'll see your thing on Twitter," I offer. He probably wants to get back to work as soon as possible and I've got to go prevent my parents from handwriting my obituary. "It was really awesome to meet you."
"Same," he says. "You're pretty freakin' cool, Erin. I'm glad I didn't get stuck in that lift with some screaming fangirl or a creepy old man. That would have been awful."
"No problem." I adjust my food bags. "I try not to be too awful a person to be stuck with."
"You definitely succeed." Niall smiles brightly. "It was an honor to share a box with you for a day. I probably wouldn't have minded it for a bit longer, minus the pissing in a hole part."
With that he pulls me into a goodbye hug. Although I can only just barely reciprocate, since my arms are covered in bags, I can see why everyone wants to receive a Horan hug. They're interesting; not too tight, not too loose. The perfect balance of comfort.
"Goodbye Erin," Niall says. "Make sure to check your Twitter soon."
"I will," I promise. "Bye Niall."
I adjust my bags again and walk to my house the way I had come, only looking back three times. The first time he is still watching me leave, the second he isn't, and the third time he's staring straight at me.
As soon as I turn the block I let out a loud squeal and then continue walking home as if nothing happened.
Because that's just how I roll.
~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing seems out of the ordinary as I walk through the front door of my apartment building. The doorman, Charles, is asleep by the entrance in his chair, as always. The art deco mirrors on the walls are still surrounded by unattractive black vases that hold daisies. All is the same.
Instead of taking the elevator up, I turn right and go straight for the stairs. I don't think I'll be using elevators anytime soon. Luckily my apartment's only on the third floor, so I can deal with the unnecessary exercise.
As I walk up the stairs, I prepare my entrance. My mom might not even be home when I walk in. We're on November break right now, so Katie will probably still be sleeping. I stop and check my watch to make sure. 10:31. I have to babysit my neighbors' kids at seven tonight, so I better wrap up everything with my parents before then.
I reach the top step and begin walking down the corridor to my apartment. I reach it, laughing at the "LEAVE" welcome mat as I always do. The door is unlocked, something I must have a word with my family about, and so I just walk in.
The door always opens quietly, so if someone's in another room, they don't hear me. I take my shoes off in the pseudo-mudroom and walk into the adjoining kitchen. I take all the bagged foods and put them in their rightful kitchen spots, which takes a quiet five minutes. I place the divorce forms on the table. I go out of the kitchen and turn right into the dining room, passing a picture of my mom, sister and I. No dad.
The TV's off, as it should be. I pass the living room and dining table and head to the corner of our apartment that has a lot of side rooms.
I'm about to open the door to my room when I hear a sob from my mother's room.
Oh dear.
I turn around and open that door. My mom is facing away from me, sitting on her bed with a phone to her ear.
"I've tried everything else, Daniel," she sobs. "I think I'm going to have to call the police."
Daniel is my mom's brother and whatever he says on the other end, I don't get to hear it, and neither does my mother.
"Mom," I say, my voice a bit high from excitement.
"Hold on Dan. Katie needs me." She puts her phone down on the bed and turns.
"What is it, swee--" she stops silent. She lifts up the phone again, saying "Don't bother calling the police Dan. Erin's home and her hair's disgusting."
Our reunion is tearful on her part and grateful on mine. My house's and mom's warmth are a great relief from the cold of the elevator and outside. She questions me about everything that happened, and I tell her everything apart from Niall. I just say he was some boy named John and he was really annoying and I barely talked to him while I was in there.
My mom spends the rest of the day either making calls or suffocating me with hugs. She keeps telling me over and over that her brother's a lawyer and we can easily sue the company whose elevator I was stuck in, but I repeatedly decline. With a bit of research, I find out that the building is indeed an accounting firm, and actually part of my dad's company, but his place of work is down the block from where I went. By suing the company, we screw over my dad. But maybe that's why my mother insisted on suing...
At noon, I realize I haven't gone to the bathroom in an entire day, so I do that. I'm proud of my bladder of steel because I don't think I could have lived down pooping in front of Niall Horan. I bring my iPod in there with me because I plan on taking a while and I don't want to get bored.
The first thing I do is check Twitter to see what's updated story-wise. I go to Niall's profile and scroll down. He hasn't posted anything since yesterday morning. I go to the trending topics and take a look at them.
My mouth drops open when I see the third most trending topic: "#Where'sNiall?"
Those stalkers! How the fuck do they know he's missing?
I happen to find the answer by checking the other boys' profiles. All of their tweets from the last day have something to do with not knowing Niall's whereabouts. On the main One Direction Twitter, posts about missing Niall are overwhelming. There's an article about it as well mentioning where he was supposed to go and what he was wearing. Damn. This is breaking news.
At 12:30, Katie wakes up and we hug and all that jazz. She says how much she missed me, and I say it back. Although we don't really look alike, we share some subtle similarities, such as my flaming red hair and hers having a slight orangey tinge.
We sit together until I have to leave for babysitting, watching Spongebob Squarepants reruns and eating Rice Krispies. I leave my phone in my apartment because I'm only babysitting down the hall.
When I get back at 10:30, I finally read the texts I got while I was in the elevator. Not surprisingly, ten are from Mom, eight are from Dad and four are from Katie. Since I last checked my phone though, I've gotten a text from my friend Rebecca:
"Hey u know that 1D concert I was gonna go to w/ Lizzie on Fri? Well she was cursing out her mom today n now she's grounded 4 the weekend. U wanna come?"
I read the text again. There can't be any harm in going, right? I call Rebecca.
"Meep." I hear her signature greeting on the other side.
"Meepity meep," I respond. "You called about the concert this weekend?"
"Yes!" she exclaims. "Yeah so Lizzie and her mom got into a huge fight and now Lizzie can't come and she's really upset so do you want her ticket?"
As always, I take a few seconds to register what Rebecca is saying, since she talks faster than One Direction tickets sell out.
"Yeah I do," I say slowly, hoping it will influence her. "How much money do I owe Lizzie for the ticket?"
"Nothing at all!" Rebecca exclaims brightly. "She won them in some radio contest like three weeks ago and they were mailed to her like last week and I was with her when she won so I was sort of guaranteed the second ticket no matter what."
"Did she get anything else other than the tickets?" I ask quizzically.
"Nah I don't think so but I haven't looked at them yet because they're still at her house so there might be more to the tickets." She takes a deep breath. "Okay my mom's gonna come to your house at 7:00 on Friday because the show's at 9:00 and we need to go pick up the tickets and we might get stuck in traffic."
"Sounds awesome!" I reply enthusiastically.
"Alright, see you then!" And with that chipper goodbye, she hangs up.
This is kind of cool. I'm not normally a concert person, but I've always been willing to see One Direction live.
I call down to my mom and tell her I'm going to the concert. She says she's not comfortable with me being alone and out of the apartment building just yet, but she relents when I tell her that Rebecca's mom will be driving us there and back and there will definitely be no elevators involved.
I'm sitting on my bed planning my outfit for Friday when I get a sudden idea. I open Twitter again and check my mentions. My heart skips a beat when I see all five of the band has followed me. I tap Niall's profile and direct message him:
"Thanks for all the follows! Just thought you'd like to know that I'm going to your concert on Friday. Good luck!"
I smile, satisfied with myself. That message is a perfect acknowledgement of his gift to me and a little thing for him to maybe think about while he's singing.
Eh, who am I kidding? He'll probably just read it and smile, then completely forget about it on stage.
Whatever. Either way, I've got a concert to go to.
That was a lot more dramatic in my head.