I park my junky car in the provided area for the venders, and open the hatch to take out my belongings for the market. The fifteen minute car ride that seemed to take three hours, was filled with awkward small talk, mostly Niall asking irrelevent questions and Harry poking in with his ridiculous opinions.
I hand Niall and Harry some boxes while I grab the tent, and let Morgan carry my small cashier/money system I use.
I lock my car and head to my usual spot between a bread stand and an organic lotion booth.
"Hey Allyson!" Jessie, the lotion girl, shouts to me in her perky little voice from under her tent.
"Hi," I mumble and guide the boys to place the boxes. Jessie is the sweetest person ever, but that's the problem. I just can't handle her over kindness.
Especially since she knew Timmy.
"Here, I'll get the tent started and you guys can just stake them in," I order and they nod in agreement.
I pop it open, quickly supporting two of the stakes into the ground, while Harry and Niall struggle with the other two. I laugh at their incapability of setting up tents.
I walk over to Harry and swiftly push the leg into the ground, then correcting it to the right height. I walk over to Niall, laughing more as he tries even harder to work with the tent.
Then, he gets his finger caught in it and curses, as he steps back, sucking on his thumb.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I say, moving closer to him. I look up at him for permission to take a peek at his finger, and he sends me a look that he allows me to do so.
I gentley take his hand in mine and examine his thumb, which is now swollen, and rapidly changing to purple and blue. I turn his palm over and he winces.
"Sorry," I mutter, and he sends me a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.
"I'll get you some ice," I tell him, and walk away. "Harry, finish the tent, the same way I did your stake," I yell back, and he gives me a thumbs up, glorifying his perfectly adept fingers. Niall scowls at him, and I can't help but giggle at them.
I jog about five tents down, avoiding everyone who is acknowledging me with a hello. Not out of rudeness, but I am too in focus on getting Niall ice.
"Victor!" I shout in relief when I see one of my best of friends from the market, already set up in his tent covered with his signature ivy hung up the stakes and around the top. His family owns this big wig wine company, and he sells for them here. It's delicious, the best wine I have ever had. And Victor will sell to anyone of any age, which I find hilarious.
"If only I was as happy to see you as you are to see me," he says sarcastically, and I brush it off. We joke like this all the time with each other, and I like it that way. A lot of the venders here are overly happy for me. And I don't see a point in being so happy, especially since they are selling random clutter in the middle of Boston. It's not something to be proud of.
"I need ice," I say, making my way to behind his table without permission. I open one of the coolers and grab a cup from one of his many bags, and fill it speedily, then jogging off again.
"You better pay me back for that!" Victor screams at me while I run back to Niall.
"Here, put your, put your finger in the cup...it should keep the swelling down," I pant. I'm not used to physical exertion, so this is the first time I have done anything but walking in a while.
Actually, now that I'm thinking of the subject, I can't seem to remember the last time I did anything active.
I haven't played volleyball in as long as I can remember. I played for my highschool, and got offered various scholarships, but declined them all.
Including Harvard.
Another reason for my parents to despise me.
But I couldn't care less.
"Thanks Al," Niall priases me and I tell him it's nothing.
Before I ask where Harry and Morgan went, I see them walking over, with the rest of my table, easels, stands, and everything else left in the car. They look like circus clowns with all of the stuff toppled in their arms.
I rush over to them and help take a load off.
"You didn't have to," I assure them, but Harry shrugs me off.
Twenty minutes later, everything is set up. Like Victor, I have instead my signature white Christmas lights, a lot like the ones in my room strewn around the tent, just to capture people's attention while they walk by.
Morgan sits next to me in another fold up chair on her phone, while the two boys are examining almost every one of my works that are exhibited throughout the tent. I tap my foot nervously, deliberating the many things that they could be thinking of my paintings. My mind races, and I hate it. I hate them looking at my work, and I guess it's just my insecurity.
"These are..." Niall starts and my heart drops.
"I know, I don't take classes or anything I just, I don't know what I'm even doing with my life..." I trail and he turns his head and looks at me, but his face reads the exact opposite of what I assummed it would.
"What? These are amazing Allyson! You have so much talent, why hide it?" he says and takes one down. One of my most recents, a city skyline of Boston. "I'm buying this one."
I priced that one higher because I was actually proud of it, for once. I mentally pray that he doesn't find the tag on the back of it, because I am going to give it to him for only $30 when it's marked for $75.
But then he turns it around and my subconscience curses.
"This is marked to cheaply," Niall says, and takes out a wallet in his pocket, or should I say Morgan's pocket.
He walks over to me and places money in my hand.
"Don't look at it, just take it," he tells me, but I ignore him and open my hand to reveal three one hundred dollars bills.
"Niall, no," I scold him, and throw my hand out in front of him to take it back.
"I'm not returning my painting, I like it," he smirks and I make a note to myself to sneak the money back to him later.
I sink back into my chair as Niall sits next to me, putting his hand with his good thumb on my thigh. My stomach flutters and I tense, but quickly relax, feeling comfortable under his touch. Because nothing has ever felt so right before.
"Don't trash yourself, you have talent. You should be charging people ten times these prices for your work. This is beautiful, don't look passed that, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Niall assures me and I force a smile. After all, I don't believe him fully.
An old lady and whom I assume to be her husband walk under my tent and view some of my art.
The lady turns over to the three of us sitting in the chairs, "Which one of you made these?"
"Me, I made them," I answer shyly. Her eyes travel to Niall's palm on my thigh and he quickly removes it, which makes my stomach sink.
"They are beautiful," she says, and turns back to looking at them. "Paul, don't you think this would look just lovely above the fireplace?" she gestures to one of a sunflower and he grunts in reply. I don't know whether to take that as a yes or a no.
"That one is a beauty, and there's also this one, which I think would look marvelous in any bathroom," Harry approaches her, pointing to one of my many beach watercolors.
"Oh I do like that one!" she gabs.
"And if you like this one, you will love this," Harry says, showing her one of a lighthouse.
"Is that Cape Cod? Oh I love Cape Cod," she says sweetly in a grandmotherly voice.
"You bet it is!" Harry remarks, and I doubt he even knows where Cape Cod is.
"Paul, I just have to buy these three," she tells her company, as he mumbles something I can't comprehend and checks the price tags, sighing. He shuffles over and pays me, and as I reach over to give him his change, the nice woman tells me she doesn't want it back. I thank her, and give the man, Paul, a bag for the paintings.
When they walk way, I turn to Harry.
"Wow, you should come more often, you just sold me three paintings and it hasn't even been five minutes of the market," I gush, beaming a smile.
"I just have this charm that people seem to adore," he smirks, leaning back onto the tent, and instantly he falls to the ground.
"Yeah, lots of charm," Morgan says, keeping her eyes on her phone. He blushes, wipes his pants and gets back up.
"I'm gonna go get some food or something," Harry mumbles and I giggle as he walks away from the tent with his face as red as an apple.
"He's quite the character that one," Niall says, booming his own laugh.
"Is he always like this?" I ask.
"Yeah, he's a good lad. So are all of the boys. As in my band," he says and I nod.
I hope I meet them soon, and that they are as sweet as these two are. But I hope they aren't as easy to fall for like I am already falling for Niall.