Chapter Ten

When five knocks sounded that evening, I jumped up from my couch —of course, in my fuzzy pajama bottoms, and a plain white t-shirt— to answer it, knowing it will most likely be Harry. When I opened the door to reveal the face I wanted to see, my suspicions were right.

Harry stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a black “Ramones” t-shirt, with a brown paper bag with a Chinese restaurant’s logo placed on the front. A smile made it’s way to my chapped lips as I stepped aside to let Harry in.

“So, I’ve got Lost Horizon, Casablanca, and Schindler’s List all set out to watch,” I began. “Pick whatever you want to watch, and I can go get some plates, and silverware. Want anything to drink?”

Harry shook his head as his eyes traveled around my condo. “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Getting the plates and silverware was easy and quick. I set them on the coffee table and curled up on the couch, watching Harry put in Schindler’s List. When he sat down beside me on the couch, he pulled a blanket over our legs.

“When are you going back to England?” I asked him quietly, fearing the answer.

As much as I hated to admit it, Harry was great to be around. He was trustworthy —though I still didn’t trust him completely—, funny, and overall, nice. He wasn’t what I depicted him to be in the beginning, a bull-headed, annoying Brit. He was a normal guy, and normalcy was something I liked to have around.

I was honestly dreading the day he had to go back to England. I wouldn’t have him around anymore, and that meant loneliness and having to spend my time with Tatiana, who was more uncomfortable than a pair of acrylic nails scratching against a chalkboard.

Harry shrugged. “Sometime next week, I suppose. The boys, with the exception of Niall have already gone, but I decided to stay a week later.”

My eyebrows pulled together. “Why?” I inquired, confused as to what made him decide to stay behind from his bandmates.

“Wasn’t ready to leave you behind,” Harry explained, and reached forward to press play on the DVD remote.

The movie began, and Harry and I settled into the couches with our plates and forks ready for the take out meal he’d gotten. Even though my mind was focused on the movie Harry chose, I couldn’t help but wonder if I meant as much to Harry as he meant to me.

Hours later, the take out box was empty and sitting in the garbage can, the movies Harry and I watched were put away, the television was off, and now we were just sitting underneath the blanket, talking away. The past few hours have been more than entertaining, they were amazing. It was the typical night I’d always dreamed of sharing with someone close —someone other than my family members— maybe even a lover.

I laughed loudly, pushing away a few strands of hair that fell into my vision. “No, I still say the egg came first. The egg needs to come first before the chicken because, how else does a chicken grow? Isn’t that it’s starting point, the egg?”

Harry shook his head, his chestnut curls falling into place. “No, because how can an egg appear without it’s mother?”

“God,” I blinked. “Or a deformity from a different animal.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Harry challenged.

“Maybe a quail, or a turkey,” I shrugged my shoulders, leaning back.

Harry shook his head, and fell into a small fit of laughter. He covered his face as he laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly. When he raised his head again, the smile had faded, and a more serious expression had taken place. “Do you want to meet my bandmates?”

I froze in my spot. “I don’t know, Harry. I mean, I’m sure they’re great and everything, but I’ve made it clear that I didn’t like you guys. I was so rude to you and your bandmates, and I still apologize for that by the way, but I’m positive they won’t like you hanging around me.”

Harry shrugged. “I could careless what my band thinks about my friends.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” I pointed out.

“Fine,” he barely shrugged it off, “Maybe it is. But you’re my friend, and not their’s. I just want you to meet them, so I hardly think it’s anything bad, y’know?”

I leaned back into the couch again. “Maybe, Harry.Plus, they’re all back home like you said.” Remembering the Irish lad, I added, “Except Niall.”

“Alright, just think about it, love,” Harry said, glancing at his phone. “Shit, I’ve gotta run. It’s nearly midnight.”

I nodded and rose to my feet. Harry quickly wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I snaked my arms around his waist, and hugged him lightly. I wasn’t exactly a fan of hugs, but Harry was always an exception to my no-hugging policy. And Ella, always Ella...

“See you soon, love,” Harry waved goodbye as he walked out the door.

****

Running a hand through my hair, I walked into the warm Starbucks. I peeled off my jacket, and held it in my arms. It was a bit colder than I expected today —in the early forties, actually— and had to wear a warmer jacket than my usual sweaters.

My decision to head to Starbucks for a quick break from the studio had been spontaneous, and quick. I’d been in the studio from seven this morning until two in the afternoon, and I was dying to get out for an hour at least.

Picking through my wallet, I pulled out a twenty that would suffice as a payment for what I wanted to order. I waited for a few minutes and stepped up to the counter when it was my turn to order. I ordered a white hot chocolate with whipped cream on the top and drizzled in chocolate and caramel. Then I ordered a couple chocolate chip muffins. I handed over the money and waited patiently for my food and drink to come.

I stepped forward, a few minutes later, when my name was called out. Grabbing my order, I turned around to sit at a table, only to run into a brute force. A small “oof” left my lips as I stumbled back. A grunt left my lips as I felt hot liquid being poured down my front, followed by a squeal as my body registered the hot temperature of the liquid. Immediately I put as much distance as I could between my shirt and my skin.

My head rose, my eyes narrowing at the body who caused this.

A pair of blue eyes met mine, and I internally groaned. Niall Horan —I think that’s his name, not completely sure— was standing in front of me, covered in my white hot chocolate just as I was covered in his coffee.

There was no doubt that Niall knew who I was and knew that I was hanging out with his friend, Harry, just like the rest of the world. I was positive that he didn’t agree to Harry and I’s friendship, and I was more than one-hundred percent sure that Niall didn’t take a good liking to me.

“Nice going,” Niall spat at me.

I scrunched my nose at him, immediately feeling disgust fill my every inside. I replied snarkily, “Well excuse you.”

“I don’t need to,” he hissed nastily.

I rolled my eyes, and wanted nothing more than to smack the crap out of the Irish lad. Everybody said how he was so amazing, and how Niall was such a people-person. They told me how he was so into sports like golf, football —and by that, they mean the English term for soccer—, and basketball. They told me how everyone just seemed to like him.

They didn’t tell me he was a prick, and a complete ass.

“Immature much?” I mumbled as I began to take a couple napkins from a nearby table and wipe off my top.

“Me, immature?” Niall scoffed, obviously hearing me. “Have you even taken a look in the mirror?”

“What’s your problem, Irish boy?” I asked, irritated of his presence completely. “Tell me. What’s gotten your panties in a twist? I’m really itching to know.”

“Stay away from my best friend,” Niall hissed, stepped forward so only him and I could hear his words. “Stay away from, Harry. You’re no good for him, and you never will be.”

I shrugged it off. “You don’t even know me.”

This didn’t shake Niall. It only provoked him, instead. “I know you’re a loathing bitch. I know you’re a disgusting soul underneath everything. You’re a fire-breathing dragon, you’re worse than a mother-in-law. You shouldn’t even be in the music business. You’re a waste of air.”

My eyes widened. These things were nothing new to me. I’ve had these words directed at me more than once, and I’ve heard even worse words come from people. However, it was much more different than seeing the words on a screen than hearing them with my own ears.

I grabbed my two muffins, and dropped my trash in the bin on my way out. I couldn’t stand there, and let Niall —along with the rest of Starbucks— see me cry. I couldn’t let him see that his words affected me.

However, two solitary tears rolled down my cheeks. Quickly wiping them away, I hurriedly climbed into my silver Elantra, and drove to the studio.

____________________________________

Eeep, Sorry this is so... short. And sorry for making NIall come off as an asshole, that's really not his intention. He's really protective of Harry, and Sophia hasn't made the best impression on the entire band as a whole. But trust me on this, Niall is in the story for a reason.

Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter, sorry it took me all day to put it up, though.. 

Here ya go<3

-Chey xx