// I'm really upset because I only received my grades for the writing part of my English midyear, and I got a B- on my essay, a B- on one open response and a C on another. It just makes me upset, because I know I'm not the best writer but I just don't know what I'm doing wrong. I always do so poorly in writing and I just...I don't know. Whatever. //
Songs of Inspiration:
Little Bird - Ed Sheeran
Don't Forget Where You Belong - One Direction
Whatever It Takes - Lifehouse (If you want to hear a song that describes Niall basically this entire story, this is the song to listen too. Highly recommend it)
Nina - Ed Sheeran
Wake Me Up - Boyce Avenue (it's a cover, but I like this version better kinda haha. The lyrics are nice)
Allyson's POV
I wake up slowly, with my mind already unraveling with it's morning thoughts but my eyes not quite open yet. I don't even have to open them to have a smile creep on my face from Niall's arms still wrapped securely around me.
I stay that way for a while, not wanting to budge that may cause him to wake up. Also, I simply do not want to be anywhere else other than the home of his arms.
An itch sneaks up onto my leg as I mentally curse at myself. I try to move my opposite foot in slow motion to try and reach the spot, when I feel Niall move a bit.
"Good morning," his raspy voice whispers in my ear a few moments later.
"I'm sorry I woke you up," I apologize.
"You didn't. I've been awake for quite a while now. I just didn't want to let go of you," he admits, and my cheeks blush as I wiggle closer into him.
I place my hands over his, and trace my fingers along his knuckles as my focus is mesmerized by the spectacular view outside this guest room window. The towering palm streets, the majestic ocean that is not very far away, and the luscious sand that leads up to the salt water. I could definitely get used to living here for a while.
But obviously, I won't over stay my welcome. Sooner rather than later I will have to lug myself back to Boston where I belong.
As much as I can try to force it upon, I am no California girl.
"What's your favorite chocolate flavor?" Niall asks, interrupting my thoughts.
"Uh-I like dark chocolate?" I giggle out of the randomness of his question. "Why?"
"I like getting to know the little things about you. What's your favorite fruits in a smoothie?"
I purse my lips together, thinking hard and long about this simple and inessential question.
"Strawberries and bananas. Oh, and mango," I add.
I feel the radiance of his smile as he rests his chin atop my head. If that's not true love, being able to physically feel when your beloved is emotional, then I don't know what love truly is.
"Who's your favorite band?"
"I've actually been listening to a bit of this new band called 5 Seconds of Summer? They're pretty rad," I joke, and feel his arms tense a bit around my body as he takes it a bit too seriously.
"Niall! I'm just kidding with you! I don't know if you know or not, but I'm quite a Directioner," I tell him, proud of the new noun that I discovered recently that supposedly the fans call themselves.
"And you're my favorite Directioner yet," he plants a kiss on the top of my head.
"Can I ask you questions now?" I tilt my head up to see his face for the first time this morning, and my heart instantly melts at his scruffy bed head hair, and soft eyes.
"Of course," he smiles at me, his eyes squinty at the corners.
I think about what I want to know about him, and I'm pretty stumped. Before I start to think too long and hard about it, I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.
"Who's your favorite hockey team?"
"Boston Bruins, hands down,"
"Good," I reply, even though I know his answer is somewhat biased.
"What's your favorite popsicle flavor?"
"Like an ice pop? Lime,"
"Really?" I ask, remembering that when I was growing up and had a sore throat, I would always ask for lime popsicles, and nothing but. Now a days I don't like them as much because it only reminds me of feeling sick, but it's just a simply memory that I will remember forever, that I can now link to the boy I love.
"Yep," he pops the p, and rests his chin against my head for a second time.
"We should probably get up, since you have that meeting today," I say, even though a part of me wants to smack myself for suggesting to leave the beautiful moment we are sharing right now.
Niall lets out a long sigh before replying, "I guess so."
And with that, it takes me to make the first move that he unwraps himself from around me. We exit the guest room, and follow the chatter to find everyone else already awake and in the kitchen, where we have spent more than half of our time during this stay. Not a surprise, since the kitchen is where the food is located.
"Good morning love birds," Jordan greets us, who is surprisingly all dressed and ready to go. I notice Harry is too, but a still sleepy Morgan is wrapped in a robe I don't recognize until I spot the embroidered H on the breast pocket.
"Niall, what time is your meeting?" I turn to him, feeling guilty that I may have made him late.
"Uh-" He scratches his head, and looks at Harry before returning his focus on me, "Like, eleven or something. Doesn't matter too much,"
I check the microwave that reads past ten o'clock, and my eyes droop. Now he's going to late all because of me.
"I made some pasta and sauce, and put it in the refridgerator for you girls to eat while we're gone. Also made some bread if you wanted that too," Harry tells him, and I thank him earnestly.
Niall leaves for a brief moment after shoveling cereal down his throat, and then proceeds to get changed. Miracously, he returns only mere minutes later all ready to leave. Before I even realize it, Morgan and I are left alone in this big mansion all by ourselves.
I stand in the middle of the space between the sunroom and the kitchen, my mind wandering aimlessly. I eventually move from my stance and sit in the seat across from Morgan as she sips her hot coffee.
"Nice robe," I contemplate her with a cheeky grin.
"Thanks," her voice is straight and clear, not much emotion behind it.
The conversation dies, and I find myself physically, emotionally and mentally missing Niall. Which is rather pathetic, because he is only gone for the day, if even that. It's not like he's going anywhere, I mean, he will be back sooner or later.
"So how do you feel about Harry?" I try to revamp the conversation.
Morgan sighs, looking out the window with her bright red mug in between her hands.
"I really like him, Al. It scares me," she admits, her voice frail and shaky, and extremely vulnerable. Unlike Morgan is almost every possible way. She's always guarded so high, so confident, this is so...different. And I can't decipher if this is a good thing or bad.
"Don't be scared, he's a total sweetheart," I tell her, honestly.
"I know...I just, I've never felt this way about a guy before. Ever. And I've been with a handful,"
"Maybe a few handfuls," I laugh, and she sends me a glare before joining in the laughter.
"But seriously, I don't know what it is. It's like we are two people who are so different, but so similar at the same time, you know? Like our personalities are so different, but it's like we are the same person at the same time," she says, placing her cheek in her hand.
"Not really," I say, not completely following what she is saying.
"I don't know Al. I don't know what to do." she groans, pulling slightly at the roots of her hair.
"I say go for it. You have nothing to lose," I advise her.
"You really think so?" she asks, her eyes hopeful as she looks at me in a way I don't she ever has.
"Definitely! I mean, you see the way he looks at you, right?"
"Oh please Allyson! Don't even talk! Niall looks at you like you're a fricken million dollar diamond!" she scoffs.
"Not true," I reply, because Niall doesn't look at me any differently than looking at anyone else, from what I have noticed.
"Dude, c'mon. That kid is so whipped, he's head over six foot tall heels for you, it's insane," she laughs, as if this is some obvious joke I just don't get.
I choose not to answer, and steer my thoughts else where.
"I'm hungry," I whine, and get up from the seat and fix up myself some cereal for breakfast.
After I'm finished, I check the time eagerly only to find that it's stil not even eleven yet. I groan out of anger, as the time ticks slower than ever before.
"What are we supposed to do all day?" I call over to Morgan in her same position at the round table.
"I don't know. I kinda wanna go through their stuff, you know Niall and Harry's," she raises her eyebrows in a sneaky way.
"That's invading their privacy!" I call her out for her devilish thoughts.
"Not if we put it back where we found it, and only want to find out some stuff about them that we don't know. Like freaky fetishes. Oh my gosh I bet Harry has a foot fetish!" she opens her mouth, and widens her eyes at her imagination.
"No those are so weird!" I squeal in a high pitched voice that I didn't know I was capable of.
Despite my original thoughts, soon enough we are searching through drawers and cupboards for anything to find.
I come across a notebook in a table what I believe to be the prettiest room of the house because of it's glass wall that views the beach just so beautifully. I almost call Morgan into the room to see my discovery too, but I change my mind when I flip through the first page.
Throughout the notebook are song lyrics. They are full of emotions I didn't know Harry had ever even experienced. They are deep with love, lust, longing, depression, and joy. They are incredibly beautiful and heart felt, that I stop myself from reading any further because this is so personal I don't want to tarnish them.
"Ugh I haven't found anything good yet, just a pair of bedazzled underwear and that's not even that weird," Morgan calls from a separate room as I fumble to put the notebook where I found it.
"Me neither," I lie, following her voice to an office room.
"What do you think their meeting is about today?" I ask the question that has been on the tip of my tongue all day, dying to know why I wasn't invited over Jordan.
"You don't actually think they are at a meeting for their band, right? Why the hell would they bring Jordan to that?" Morgan says, her voice almost in a mocking tone.
"I-I don't know," I say, my voice uneasy. I did believe they were in a meeting, I just didn't understand why.
"They're probably doing some guy thing that they didn't want to tell us. LIke at a strip club or something, maybe even with a prostitute," she says so calmly, as if it were nothing.
My heart sinks at the thought of some girl with big boobs and a large behind in barely any clothes all over Niall. It pains to imagine the image, and I have to force it out of my head before it becomes unbareable.
"I'm gonna take a shower," I tell her, despite the fact that I took a shower last night and haven't done much since then.
I exit the room without another room and pile a pair of new clothes in the bathroom before stepping under the shower head.
I leave the water hot this time, and soak in the refreshing sense it gives me when the droplets hit my back. I pick a shampoo and conditioner to use, thankful that Harry uses good products in his hair.
After rinsing my hair and washing my body with sweet smelling soap, I sit on the floor of the tub letting the water massage my back for a while. I let my mind run blank, trying to erase any negative feelings so I can start off fresh.
Subsequently after a good amount of time just doing nothing, I turn off the shower and wrap a towel around myself. I throw on the yoga pants and sweatshirt that I picked out for myself, and leave my hair wrapped up in the towel to dry. I don't bother with makeup, and force myself to brush my teeth before heading back to Morgan.
I find her outside on the patio, scrolling away on her phone. I join her, sitting next to her on the lounge bench.
"What'cha doin'?" I ask her.
"Instagram," she replies simply. "Harry posted a picture of us yesterday at the beach, I'm just reading the comments,"
"Don't do that, it doesn't matter what other people think," I shake my head, knowing of how cruel people can be. Especially over the internet, it's like they feel they are invincible and can freely just rash out on people unnecessarily. It's discusting, actually.
"Al, I'm fine. I don't care what these shit heads have to say. Some of it's funny, actually. One girl said I was his adopted sister. There are some nice things though, and some people commented saying that I was probably just a friend of you, little miss celebrity over here," she winks at me, and I roll my eyes as I bring my knees to my chest and for the millionth time, stare out at the ocean.