zoebechtle-blog

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Epilogue

September, 2017

“Zo?” I was bent over the sink, spitting toothpaste out of my mouth. Niall was standing behind me staring, as he adjusted his towel over his hips. He’d just gotten out of the shower, and droplets of water riveted down his chest. I met his eyes in the mirror and quirked an eyebrow.

“Yesh?” I still had the toothbrush in my mouth.

“Anything you want to tell me?” The look on his face was semi-unreadable. His forehead was crinkled in deep thought, and he was looking at me like I had sprung another head. I wasn’t unaccustomed to this look (I got it often) but usually there was some warning or I could deduct something nuts that I had done. But I’d been getting ready for the day humming along to the James Bay playing in the bedroom of his L.A. house. I wasn’t wearing anything crazy, just a pair of shorts and a plain tank top with my hair pulled up into a messy bun. I cupped my hands to take a sip of water to rinse my mouth and spit, turning to look at him, furrowing my brow.

“Nooooo. What’s going on?”

“Are you sure? Nothing?” Now he had a little grin on his face and walked confidently up to me. What the hell? I put my hand on my hip and stared at him.

“You’re freaking me out, boo.” I put my hand up to stop him, resting it in his thick patch of chest hair.

“C’mere.” He stood in front of me and turned me back around to face the mirror, leaning in with his hands on my hip bones. Was he just being fresh? Because if so, good morning Zoe. I mean, we’d already had sex once since waking up, but after almost three months apart, I wasn’t going to turn down anything I could get from my beautiful blonde piece of ass, I mean, loving boyfriend. He dragged his nose up my neck, tickling me a little, the water from his head dripping down.

“Nothing? Not even this?” And he licked a spot right behind my left ear, caressing it. My eyes grew wide, and he mirrored my shocked expression. “Mmmm?”

“Holy shit!” I dropped my hairbrush and put my hands over my mouth. “I FORGOT! Jesus Christ!”

“How in the shit did you forget you got a tattoo?”

The tattoo was supposed to be a surprise. Okay, it was a moment of weakness when I wasn’t thinking. Three weeks after Niall’s break from his tour (which coincided with my birthday nicely) promoting his platinum solo album I was bored. I missed him like crazy. I didn’t not trust him, but it was just enough to make me panic a bit. I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t going to be that crazy girlfriend. This was his life and I’d gotten as used to extended absences as I much as I could. It was a fluke that I had gotten to spend as much uninterrupted time with him as I had. The rational part of my brain knew all this. But Crazy Zoe came out to play. A lot. To keep her at bay, I overscheduled my days. I took on heading up a grant application at work and filled in for other people so they could take vacations. Anytime anyone suggested plans, I jumped at them. I accompanied Carly and Jess to plays and movies, went shopping with Paul, and third wheeled with Hannah and Willie (and had gone with Willie last week to pick out her engagement ring, but shhhhhhhhh). I’d actually willingly gone to hot yoga on four occasions, for fuck’s sake. When Aaron asked if I wanted to spend a marathon Saturday afternoon with him while the next section of his tattoo sleeve was completed, I went along.

I’d spent time in tattoo shops over the years, holding the hands of friends as they had various body parts inked. My own small tribute to my Grandma Bechtle was a small quilt square on my ribcage, under the band of my bra (it hurt. So bad.) and Aaron had rubbed my hands and at one particularly bad juncture, even letting me bite his arm to stifle my pain - he was such a good friend (he also had a bit of a pain kink). So off we went. About two hours into the adventure, as my incessant chit chat was obviously annoying the artist (“Z, can you tone it down a bit?” Aaron had hissed) I wandered off to look at various designs. I watched a girl get a tiny piece behind her ear. It took less than five minutes and wasn’t noticeable in the slightest. I scratched my nail along the spot, and it was bearable. Poking at it reminded me how sensitive I was behind my ears, and made me miss Niall for a few minutes. No one else had ever quite mastered the spot the way he had. He jokingly always called it my Achilles Ear and had proclaimed it his fifth favorite place to kiss me (I’ll leave you to figure out the other four). In a moment of what I can only described as blind devotion and being so hard up for dick that it wasn’t funny, I decided to mark myself. With the most Niall thing in the world. An Irish flag.

The fates aligned with this decision by one of the artists, a skinny, bored-looking middle aged hipster, having a cancellation. We worked out the details quickly, and less than fifteen minutes later, I slid back into the room with Aaron. He noticed the bandage immediately and shrieked, “What did you do?!” and proceeded to cast harsh judgement. Within two hours, reality kicked in and I freaked out.

“Oh my God, Aaron!”

“Yep.”

“I tattooed a fucking Irish flag on MY HEAD!”

“Yep.”

“In a sexy spot in honor of a guy.” My mother was somewhere shaking her head.

“Yep.”

We started each other with wide eyes. Sometimes my impulsive nature knew no bounds. I opted not to tell Niall about the tattoo. I didn’t even tell Hannah because I didn’t trust her not to spill to Willie. Luckily I had my dad’s ears, which bent back more than was normal. It made a slightly strange profile, but I was grateful that it allowed my humiliation not to be completely public. And to fair, it was WAS tiny, smaller than the tip of my pinky finger. The only person who’d noticed it before Niall was a six year old at work who pointed to my “sticker” every session. (I usually started the day with my hair down, but by 11 am it was out of my face in some manner.) I’d moved on and found something else to obsess over, and honestly kind of forgotten about it. Until a month later, twelve hours into a week long visit for Niall’s 24th birthday.

“Um, uh…” I stammered, trying to buy myself time. How did I forget I had gotten a tattoo? “Well, the area has been greatly under used recently…,” I started, turning around to face his smirking face. I put my hands against the counter and leaned back a bit, widening the distance between us. That didn’t work for him, so he edged closer, reaching to touch my ear. I swatted at his hand.

“Off!”

“No way! I want to see it!”

I shrugged my shoulder up to block him. “Don’t!”

“Why not?” He’d gotten me trapped against the vanity as I unconvincingly tried to fight him off.

“Because it’s stupid. Niall, don’t!”

“Well, it’s on the Achilles Ear, and it’s an Irish flag, so I’m assumin’ it has something to do with me,” by this time I’d given up my protest and let him nudge his nose in there, nuzzling me. “And nothin’ concernin’ me and you is stupid. C’mere.” Grabbing my hand, he dragged me over to the window and stood facing my side, pushing the shell of my ear forward so he could get a good look.

“It’s trashy! Stop!” My embarrassment was complete.

“It’s fuckin’ hot. Jesus, Z,” his voice was scratchy and low as he ran his finger over the spot, “ya did this for me?”

“No, for my other Irish boyfriend. Of course I did it for you. I was horny, bored, and I missed you! It was an unholy trio!” I pushed him back a bit. I hated showing my weakness for someone, even for him. Especially for him. It did not jive with my independent woman vibe. I wanted him to be the one tripping over his feet for me. And he did. Often. I was that good.

“Goddamn it,” he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him, dropping his towel in the process, and pulling on my ear again. “I want to fuckin’ lick and suck that all day. I can’t believe ya did that.” Before I could protest, his mouth was behind my ear, doing exactly what he promised. Within five minutes I was sprawled out on the bathroom floor with his head between my legs lapping like it was his last meal. Fifteen minutes after that, I was bent over the vanity, the two of us watching ourselves in the mirror as he took me from behind. He was total porn star mode and I loved every second of it. Maybe my next tattoo would be his name on my ass. After that reaction, I’d consider it.

That night we were locked in the house with carry-out, just enjoying time together and recovering from the day long fuckfest. I’d managed to make him snort Stella laughing at a story from work, and I’d then choked on a noodle at his reaction. His actual birthday was in two days, and tomorrow various friends from all over the world would be descending for a traditional weekend of debauchery. He’d been showing me blue print plans from his builder (Gary...we were all on a first name basis, and he’d brought me pastries last time I’d been to visit) to add a room off the kitchen. A new office. It looked nice, French doors and a window seat with built-in bookcases.

“But you have an office upstairs already, bugaboo,” I reminded him, kissing his cheek as I slid on the floor in front of his knees to take a better look. I was pretty sure that Niall just really liked Gary and enjoyed keeping him around. At this rate the house might become a Hollywood Hills version of The Winchester House. “And if you’re not sure, there are two other bedrooms, dude. We can move stuff around.”

“Jesus. You really are thick, aren’t ya?” He stared at me over the plans, rolling his eyes. “Notice where it says something about staining the wood teal? I swear, you complain about me bein’ oblivious to shit. The room is for you, Zo. It’s your office. I thought you might like a space of your own when we’re here. Especially when there are guests - I was pretty sure you were going to stab Deo last time.” This is true. He wouldn’t quit humming the theme to Doogie Howser, M.D.

Oh. Okay. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. So I went with smart ass. “You know, your future wife will make you sell this house if there’s a room you built for your old girlfriend here. You’ll have to move to the Valley or something.”

“How about I make my ‘old’ girlfriend my wife, then? I get to keep the house and my girl. Two birds, one stone.”

“Yeah? You think?” My heart rate had jumped up about 400 beats a minute and I was barely holding it together. My face was burning hot.

“I know, Zoe Jane. Wanna marry me?” He whispered with a smile, but his eyes were nervous. His foot was jiggling so hard the whole sofa was bouncing.

“Quit fucking with me, Horan. That’s not nice.” Neither of us were blinking. Only our stubborn asses would be having a staredown over a marriage proposal. He put his hand out to grab mine and pull me up from my spot on the huge pillow on the floor.

“C’mere.” He pulled me upstairs to his (our? My mind was spinning.) bedroom and sat me on the bed, holding a finger up for me to wait a second as he disappeared into the closet. A minute later he returned, holding an orange box. Holy shitsnacks. This was Hermes. Better than a diamond. A handbag.

“I didn’t plan on doing this tonight,” he reached around to scratch the back of his neck with his right hand. “Not actually sure when I was going to. No time seemed right, and you deserve right. But we kinda go about things differently, yeah? And that just came out before, when you were busting my balls. Which is really the perfect thing, ya know? That’s how we roll.”

“Niall, you’re babbling,” I held my hands out for the box. Gimme.

“Calm your tits, Bechtle. I have a thing I want to say. Been thinking it over for months. Ya told me that first morning that you didn’t need me or anyone. That I was an accessory. A Birkin bag,” he handed me the box and I stared at him. “A ‘really fucking awesome, coveted purse that is frankly out of your budget, but still a bag.’” I know ya need don’t need this, or me, but I hope you’ll keep us both around. I hear these things never go out of style and will last ya the rest of your life.”

“But I can get other bags to carry, too, right?” I was crying.

“NOT what I was tryin’ to say.” We both started laughing, a nervousness to the room. Hopeful tension, maybe? My hands shook as I untied the bow and carefully lifted the lid on the beautiful chocolate colored leather.

“Ni, I...oh my god.” I was petting it with one hand and trying to touch his cheek with the other. I was officially mentally overstimulated.

“You should look inside,” he whispered. I fumbled with the openings, dropping the bag. Twice.

“Jesus, Zo,” he ran his hand through his hair and fell to his knees to pick it up. I pulled out a matching wallet and passport holder. Grand total this all had to cost more than my tuition my first two years of college.

“I can’t believe...It’s too...Niall!”

He took the wallet out of my hands and pulled out a small velvet box. Oh my god. OH MY FUCKING GOD. And he was still on the floor in front of me. On one knee. This was happening. This was really happening. He was building me a room. He bought me a bag. And now there was a ring. Fuck this noise. I slid off the bed and tackled him, kissing his mouth.

“Z, I love you more that I ever thought possi-”

“Yes, you ninny.”

“Yeah?” There was that cancer curing smile that I noticed the night we met. “Thank god. I had a fear you were going to beat me with the bag.”

“Still might. That is a ridiculous amount of money, you idiot. I can’t believe you remembered that purse analogy.”

“Thought about it every day since.”

“I was so proud of myself. That’s high level thinking.” I’d managed to his shirt off and was working on his pants. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Are ya even going to look at the ring? It’s a- Jesus, God.”

“Maybe later. Got things to do right now. I love you, Niall.”

Three days later I woke up with a screaming headache and bright desert sunlight shining right in my eyes. Ugh, we didn’t shut the blinds and the Vegas sunlight was blinding. And hot. I never did get the fascination with this place. A desert of drunk people and loud music. Unfortunately the boys loved it. And I’d dragged Niall to Oslo for six days for my birthday against his will (he wasn’t a fan of cold) so I had no place to put up a fuss. I didn’t remember actually starting drinking yesterday - it was a day long heavy buzz from bloody Marys on. Ooof, I’d gotten too much sun at the pool. My whole back was tender and hot. The beautiful man (my fiance-whoa) cuddling up to it wasn’t helping matters.

“Ow. Hot. Niall, you’re hot.” I whined. In response he tilted his hips up into my bottom.

“You’re hot, too, babe.” That sleepy, thick accent.

“Oh shut up, not like THAT. My back.” He scooted back to look.

“Shit, Zo, you’re fried.”

“Ughhhhh.” I flopped back dramatically, only to yelp for real and roll over to my stomach. “Ouchy. Will you grab the ibuprofen from my makeup bag? I’ll love you forever and ever.” To accentuate my point, I pouted my bottom lip at him.

“Fine. I’m gonna take a piss, though.”

“Wash your damn hands!” He stuck his tongue out at me as he walked by, and shook his bum once he knew I could see it. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and started flipping through messages and social media posts.

“Horan Gettin’ Hitched!”

“No More ‘Horan’ Around” (okay, that’s hilarious)

“‘This Town’ For Niall and Fiancee!”

Shit. There were pictures of us from yesterday and last night. Invasive, but sweet. With our friends, but always touching one another, even in some small way. Me tucking my head into his neck waiting for a car. Him rubbing sunscreen on my back (spoiler: it was ineffective) at the pool. Hannah and I cuddling in a corner at the club and Niall behind us in a conversation with his hand resting on my bare shoulder. I hadn’t worn the beautiful emerald ring he’d bought me this weekend-no official announcement had been made and we agreed to wait until after his birthday (and me safely ensconced back in the London under Bas’s watchful eye) to do so. So where the fuck were these headlines coming from? It wasn’t the first time we’d seen such rumors, but now that there was substinance to them, my radar was pinging. I clicked on the link.

“During his annual birthday extravaganza - this year in Vegas - former One Direction hottie and solo sensation Niall Horan was heard telling friends that he has proposed to longtime girlfriend, Zoe Bechtle. Sources report the singer referring to the regular-girl brunette as “the wife.” American-born Bechtle and Horan have kept their relationship mainly out of the public eye but rumors have her moving into his London home recently. Don’t forget the pre-nup, Niall!”

And the comments. Holy shit. The usual brain explosions, people wishing us well, others wishing me death, commenting on my ass (let it go, people, I’m big fucking boned), and people claiming to have seen us at the drive-thru wedding chapel. Christ.

“Niiiiii?”

“Be there in a sec, babe, beer shits!” Seriously, we were way too damned comfortable with one another. I maneuvered myself out of the bed, hissing at the pain and into the bathroom.

“I said I’d be right there.” Luckily he was pulling his boxers up at this point.

“Um, did you tell someone we were engaged last night? And refer to me as “the wife?” I put my phone in his face as he washed his hands so he could see the article. He motioned with his nose so I would scroll down as he dried.

“Well, shit. Cat’s out of the bag, I suppose.”

“Ya think? All the big blogs have it. I’m surprised your phone isn’t going apeshit.” He was not nearly as upset by this news as I’d thought he’d be.

“Fuck, it died last night.” He started fussing with the cords on the nightstand, plugging it in.

“I bought you that ginormous case with the char-”

“It looks bulky in my pocket!”

“Good Lord, you’re a dainty princess.” I gave his chest a little shove. “What should we do? Do you want me to call Kim?” He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at me for a minute. I could actually see the wheels turning in his head. “Boo? Hey!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face.

He looked at me intently. “Wanna just do it?”

“What? Call Kim?” I raised my eyebrow as I swallowed the ibuprofen and reached a t-shirt to cover up my naked chest.

“No. Get married. Now. Here.”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?” He stood up and walked over to me, carefully avoiding my crispy back side as he wrapped his arms around me. “You were already having a panic attack the other night about whether we have a wedding in London, Ireland, or in America. And who my best man should be. If Harry should be one of your bridesmaids. Security. If wearing white was out of the question since you’ve ‘given more rides than a bus’. The more time you have to think about something…”

“The more I freak,” I finished for him. I never really had been a fan of the pageantry of weddings. The parties were fun but too much drama. “Are you being 100% for real?”

“Zo, I would have married you on the bedroom floor the other night.”

“An officiant might have minded presiding over a ceremony where I ended up reverse cowgirl.”

His smirk light up his face. “That’s my dream fuckin’ wedding. Baby, you’ve had me since that second quiz night. I don’t care where we do this, and the sooner the better. I wanna be official. I bet I can make a few calls and we can get someone up here,” He teased, running his lips kissing my ear. “Marry me? Today?”

I sighed, my decision made three seconds after he suggested it. “I only do this if you get Elvis.”

“Deal.”

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 14

It never occurred to me that Niall had a key to his bathroom. When he opened the door and found me curled in a ball on the side of the bathtub, crying my eyes out, he pulled me up and into his arms. I buried my head in his chest, ugly crying. I didn’t want him to touch me, but it was also the only thing I wanted. My face was streaked with makeup and I smelled like vomit. I tried to fight him off so I could at least straighten myself up, trying to gather my wits, but he took control, turning on the shower and getting me out of my clothes and then shedding his own. He pulled me in and sat on the bench, pulling me onto his lap. The whole time he was whispering words that weren’t even registering. My brain just keep shouting at me that he was done, that it was all over. My abrasive personality (my father’s word for it) had chased yet another person out of my life. He ended up washing my hair and body, and basically carrying me out of the shower stall, drying me off, and laid me down in the bed. I was wrecked physically and emotionally. He left for a few minutes and brought back a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. We both swallowed a shot and stared at one another. I was naked with just his duvet wrapped me around me and he was in a pair of shorts. I was pretty sure I’d just cried more than I had in the last five years of my life combined. He looked distraught, moving his feet and picking at his hands. I wanted to talk, I wanted to yell, but I didn’t even know how to start. So I opted to just crawl over and lie my wet head on his shoulder.

“Z…” I waited on him to continue, lifting my head which suddenly felt too heavy to hold up. I laid it on his pillow, looking at him from the side.

“Goddamn it, you’re beautiful.” He said it reverently, leaning down to touch my cheek. It was two thirty. He would be leaving for the airport in five and a half hours. There was so much between us now, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Was it even mine to fix?

“I’m...I’m sorry, baby.” He kept caressing my face, his voice almost a whisper. “I fucked up. Didn’t mean to smother you. I’ve never done this before. Thought we were supposed to be together like that all the time, that’s what a girl wants. I shoulda asked you.I freaked out when you left the other day. I had no idea what was going on and I thought you were just done with me. ”

Where the hell were all these tears coming from? Fuck them. “I held it in and didn’t tell you when I started getting annoyed. I blew up and overreacted.”

“And I was hurt. So pissed. I lashed out at you. Calling Kimmy was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Shoulda just left the plans like they were.” He hung his head.

“If this is going to work, and previous to Sunday I think we were both pretty gung-ho on making it work…”

“You don’t want to anymore?” Sheer panic crossed his face, his lips parting.

“I do. I mean, I’m pretty sure. But fuck, these last two days have sucked. We have to be better and talk about shit. But we’re still on the learning curve. We have to figure it out together.” He nodded at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. “And you can’t goddamn run away from me.”

“If I could stay, I would.” He bent his forehead and pressed it to mine.

I hated to beat a dead horse, but… “Five weeks?”

He had the good sense to look miserable when he nodded. “One of the Nashville guys is only available that last week, and they’ve spread out some of the studio time. The gaps aren’t enough to really make it home.” He started biting his fingers again.

“You’re going to miss my birthday,” I whispered.

“Oh my god. Zo.” I could see him trying to do the math in his head (carry the one, June has 30 days…). “Fuck. July 29th. FUCK.”

“Nashville?”

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I’ll fly you in and we can go away for the weekend. We can find someplace quiet that won’t require you to be near bugs.” Points, he did know my phobia.

I shook my head. “We always have a big party. Go to Brighton the weekend before and stay at Aaron’s grandparents’ beach house. Paulie has named it Zoepalooza. Ruth always comes and makes me banana cake. I’ve never had the heart to tell her I hate bananas.” I gave Niall a wry smile, basically telling him I wouldn’t be coming to America for my birthday. I have my own thing, and him not being there was going to hurt.

He buried his face in my neck. “I will make this up to you, even if it takes me twenty years. I’ll buy ya whatever you want.”

“Sounds like you can’t get me the only thing I want.” I wasn’t trying to be an asshole (well, just a little). Being with him was what I wanted.

“You’re still going to visit your family for your mom’s birthday, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. In two weeks. But I fly into St. Louis Friday morning and leave Sunday night. Dr. Summit has that conference in Glasgow the week after.” He sighed.

We laid quietly for a moment. “So…” He let out a shaky breath.

“Yes?”

“If I sign with, um...an American label? Like Capitol?”

“That’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it uh...makes the most sense. And the idea that they even want me, Z. That was Sinatra’s label, yeah? But I’ll be in L.A. more now.”

Another thing I wasn’t aware of. I leaned away. Not running. Just processing. How much is more time? “I didn’t know that.”

He nodded. “I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know that they really wanted to come after me this hard. You think we can do this? Your life is here.”

“Isn’t yours?” I was confused - his friends and his home were here. I was here.

“Yeah. But if I’m in L.A. part of the time, then tours, and promos...Zo, that’s a lot of time I’m not in London. Like two years ago I only spent 59 nights here over the course of the year. All the time I’ve been here now has kinda been a fluke.”

Well this would have been helpful knowledge to have had at the beginning of March. “I think I’m too far gone to do anything but try to figure it out, eh?” I felt a sort of deflated but peaceful. I rolled into his shoulder and buried my head, biting on my inner cheeks to not cry. He ran his fingers up and down my arms, singing “Unsteady” by X-Ambassadors, then “Gale Song” by The Lumineers softly. Eventually, our mouths found one another’s and the desperate kisses began. We made love with tears in our eyes until Deo knocked on the door to tell him it was time to leave for the airport. Willie drove us to City Airport, Niall and I cuddled in the back of Range Rover. When we got there, we stood apart from the boys, our heads bent together, making promises to talk every day, to facetime, and telling one another how in love we were. I knew it was all true and despite my sadness, I felt relief. Deep down, I knew we’d be okay. The text he sent from the lounge of him holding a teddy bear with a shirt that said, “I Left My Heart In London” made me smile. He was flawed and clueless about matters of the heart, but he was mine. I needed to get over the demons in my brain and my stubbornness,  but I was his. We had to learn how to do this together and it was going to hurt. But it was also going to be the best experience of my life. I knew it. Willie took me home afterward, stopping to buy me a peppermint milkshake. He didn’t let my tears scare him and he gave me a long hug outside of my flat.

“You survived it, Z. The first fight. I told you, he was going to take patience. I’m glad you’re giving him the chance. You two are meant to be.”

I hugged him again and thanked him. For everything.  

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 13

I snapped. I just couldn’t handle it one more second. I was grumpy and PMSed and by Jesus, he was making me nuts. He had the sheer audacity to rub my arm as I stood over the sink. And I was ready to fight.

“Niall! Christ! Can you get out of my ass for twenty seconds?!” I’d woken up annoyed because he’d stolen Grandma B’s blanket off me in the middle of the night. Then I got even more annoyed because the quilt was at his house - I had a hard time sleeping without it, and since I spent more time here than I did at my own place at his insistence (“My bed is better, petal. Plus there’s more room.”), it made sense. At first it was cute, and he’d gotten all soft eyed when I carried it out to bring with me, but now I was pissed. I wanted to stretch out all over a bed and not have him steal my blankets or grump about my kicking (he’d finally noticed it after he’d woken up with a good sized bruise to his thigh one day).

“What?” He put down his toothbrush and caught my eyes in the mirror.

“Everywhere I go, you’re right there! I haven’t had a moment to myself even to brush my FUCKING TEETH in weeks!” I slammed my own toothbrush down. It had all been bubbling inside of me for a while, and like a volcano, it exploded.

“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about, Z?” His cheeks were turning red, filled with his Irish temper. But I was on a rant.

“Babe, come over tonight.” I mimicked his accent. “Babe, you don’t want me to come to dinner with you guys?” “No, babe, I don’t want to watch the new Wes Anderson movie. Let’s go see Will Ferrell instead.” “Everywhere I turn, you’re THERE. I come home to relax and have some quiet time to myself and you’re there! I want to walk to the shops to clear my head, and you come with. Quiz night, movie night, you’re there. And you’re breathing on me, touching me,” I was gesturing wildly at this point, “and I just need some goddamn ROOM!”

“Jesus fuck, Zoe, I WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU! I’m fucking sorry!” Spittle flew out of his mouth.

“I get that, but fuck, I need to spend some time with me, too. It’s feast or famine. You’re either up my grill or you’re gone.” I had started to come down a bit from my fit, but I could see he was just gearing up.

“You could just tell me to piss off, you don’t need to go off on me.” It would have been a nice sentiment if the vein in his neck wasn’t bulging and he wasn’t gripping the counter.

“I don’t want you to piss off, I just need a little time to myself now and again! You’re smothering me when you are around!”

He slammed his toothbrush, “Take all the fucking time you want!” and tore out of the bathroom. Shit, shit, shit. I could hear him rattling drawers and stomping his feet.

“Ni…” I stood in the doorway and watched him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You think I don’t want time to myself? You think I want ya takin’ up my bed all the time? Ya don’t even clean up after yourself! Ya nag me about everything and you’re not as funny as you think you are! And you NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Okay, that hurt. I’m hilarious (and I try really hard not to nag). And when attacked, I attack back.

“You know what? I HATE golf! I hate the stupid TVs you bought me that I didn’t fucking want. I want to shoot myself in the face everytime you turn on SkyNet. I can’t stand your friend Nick, I think he looks like a date rapist! And your new goddamn cologne smells like black licorice!” I literally stomped my foot. Like a child.

“Yeah? I can’t stand Carly! She’s a slag and I don’t know why you hang out with her. And throw the fucking TVs away. I was trying to do somethin’ nice for you but you don’t even know how to appreciate it!”

“They had nothing to do with me!”

By this time were shouting from across the room, and I picked up a pillow and winged it at his head. I have shit aim, but he looked absolutely infuriated.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Zoe!”

“Gladly!” I grabbed at my phone and my shoes, knowing my purse was by the door. I ran down the hall, past Deo, Niall behind me.

“You two okay?” He looked slightly terrified.

“Other than your cousin’s knuckles dragging the ground?” I spat out.

“FUCK YOU! Take all the time ya fuckin’ need to yourself!” Niall looked like he could kill me with his eyes, which burned dark.

I grabbed my purse and ran out the front door, slamming it behind me. Small issue with this escape - I didn’t have a car and the tube station was a good six miles away. And I was rage crying. Thank God for Uber.

I paid the fifty quid fee to have the driver take me all the way home. I was in no shape to ride the Tube. I couldn’t decide if I was sad or angry. It was my fault, I knew, but he’d said some nasty things (and so had I). I slunk into my apartment for the first time in days, and wanted nothing more than to curl up under my quilt and go to sleep for a few days.

My quilt. FUCK. He had my goddamn quilt. I picked up the remote to the offending television and threw it against the wall, smashing it to bits.

“Favor?”

“Yep. Sup?”

“Can you either ask Willie to retrieve Gma B’s quilt from Niall’s room or will you go get it?”

“Uh oh”

“Yup.”

“Bad?”

“Horrible. My fault but he has a temper.”

“Duh.”

“I’ll go out and get it. W won’t want to be involved.”

“Love you”

“So much.”

Hannah climbed into bed with me about three hours later, covering us with the quilt. I would never regret giving her a spare key.

“You okay, Zoe girl?”

“I suck.”

“Well, per Deo you were both swinging pretty hard.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Nope. He and Willie were at the range. And I’m assuming getting plastered based on the texts I’ve been getting.”

“I was a dick, Han. I was mean to him because he’s been up in my grill, and I’m not used to that. We’ve been spending too much time together. And I slept for shit.”

She cuddled me as I cried. “Neither one of you know fuck all about how to be a relationship. I think he’s just as lost as you are and he’s doing what he thinks is right.”

“He said I wasn’t funny, Han.”

“Fucker.”

“Seriously, though. B what girl complains because her boyfriend is too nice and spends too much time with her?”

“Zoe Jane. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not like anyone else. In the world.” She kissed my forehead.

I decided to give Niall more time to cool off and not contact him that night. I hated it. I hated every second of it. But I was pretending to be mature, when in reality I was just stubborn. In a patented Zoe move, I’d turned my phone off before I went to bed so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it. Instead I lied awake and counted sheep. And cows. And dinosaurs.

I turned it on in the morning as I walked from the bus stop to my office and found...nothing. Niall wasn’t one to hold anything back - it was something my passive aggressive ass loved about him. And now he was radio silent. When he told me to get out of his house and to take all the time I needed, was he breaking up with me? I pulled myself into the doorway of a shop and put my head between my knees for a few moments, trying to stop the lightheadedness that had overtaken me. Surely not. But maybe. I texted Hannah frantically.

“Do you think he broke up with me?”

“I don’t know, Z. Did he break up with you?”

“He told me to get the fuck out of his house.”

“I know. Did he text?”

“No.”

“Did you?”

“No”

“So in adult relationships, we just ask…”

“What if he says yes, Han?”

“Then you live. It sucks and we’ll burn him in effigy, but you’ll live.”

I held my phone to my chest and nodded at a passerby, who looked at me like I was insane. He wasn’t wrong.

I decided to prolong my self-torture as long as possible and wait until I got to my office to text him. Then it was after I had my coffee. Then after my first patient. By lunchtime I knew I needed to bite the bullet.

“Hi”

“I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”

I buried my phone in my desk and went about my afternoon appointments and meetings. In between each one I’d stop at my little hole of an office. Each time I was disappointed. No response.

I walked the long way home, trying to zone my head out and wanting to do anything but sit in my apartment. I decided I would just be blunt. I stopped to get a grilled cheese at the shop down the street, and typed out another text.

“If you’re not speaking to me it’s cool. I get it.”

“Can I just get a thumbs up or thumbs down indicating whether or not we’re still together?”

“I’m hanging in the wind here.”

After I’d hit up the library, Boots, and any other place I could think to go to distract myself, I knew I had to go home and be alone with my thoughts. Just desserts, I guess, since that’s what I wanted in the first place. I took a hot shower and put on an old nightshirt. If I died tonight, how long with it take Hannah or Jess to find my body? I was suddenly very glad I was allergic to cats so I would at least remain intact a little longer. I tried to text Niall one more time - if he didn’t respond then I was certain I had my answer.

“I love you”

At 1:16 I heard noise coming from the front room. I wasn’t 100% sure I’d been asleep, just in that in-between land that seemed to last forever but no actual rest came from. I sat up straight in bed and grabbed the butcher knife I kept tucked between the mattress and box springs.

“I have a gun! And I’m an ace shot!” Christ, my voice cracked like Peter Brady’s. “Take whatever you want, just leave me be!”

“Ya don’t have a fuckin’ gun, Zoe. Put the goddamn knife down.” Niall stumbled into my room, smelling like a brewery. This’ll be a good time.

I turned on the light and tucked the knife back in its resting place. “Hi.”

“Hope I’m not interfering with your alone time,” his voice was thick with sarcasm. “But ya kept blowin’ up my phone.”

“Because you didn’t answer,” my voice was tiny as I watched him take off everything but his underwear.

“Didn’t want to.”

I deserved that. “Okay...well, you’re here now.” Maybe we could talk about this like adults.

He flopped on the bed beside me and pulled the blanket over his head. Or not. “Was closer to come here than go home.”

Ouch. That was intentional. “Goodnight, then.” I flipped off the light and burrowed down in the blanket, facing away from him. I stared at the wall until my eyes burned, then scooted around trying to get comfortable. The tension in the room was so thick that it was weighing on me.

“Jesus Christ, can you fucking quit wiggling?” I’d assumed Niall had passed out, but his growl assured me he hadn’t.

“Sorry.” I had a flashback to the last time we’d laid here like that, and I was overcome. Much like then, I tried to control my breathing so he wouldn’t know I was crying. It was fruitless, though, because subtlety was not a trait I possessed. Knowing I was about to lose control, I choked back a sob and started to sit up to lock myself in the bathroom. Then he startled us both, I think, by grabbing my waist, pulling me back to him.

“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry, baby. Please.” His pleas washed over the back of my neck. “I can’t handle you crying, Zo.”

“Then talk to me. Tell me what to do to make this right. I hate myself for pissing,” jagged cry, “you off. I hate that you haven’t talked to me in almost two days. My heart hurts, Niall.”

“It’s okay.” His voice was thick with emotion, exhaustion, and booze. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

He did not tell me that he would be gone when I woke up. Or, specifically, trying to sneak out of my flat when my alarm went off. His eyes were huge when I flipped on the light and found him putting on his hat, fully dressed.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” I rubbed my swollen eyes and grabbed my glasses from the nightstand.

He knew he’d been made, and sat on the bed, putting his head down. “Um, forgot I have a meeting early this morning.” He was jiggling his foot and playing with the skin around his fingers. I doubted there was a meeting. Still, if he wanted to get out of staying here with me that badly, I wasn’t going to stop him.

“Okay,” I squared my shoulders and held back the shake to my voice. “Have a good meeting. I guess we’ll talk later, yeah? Maybe dinner tonight?” If I could get him to nail down a time to talk that would be half the battle, I thought.

“Tonight,” he exhaled. “Tonight isn’t going to work.”

I nodded at him, but mentally was going through his schedule as I knew it. He didn’t have much going on this week. “Tomorrow?”

“Fuck.” The fingers went into his mouth. “No, not tomorrow. Fucking shit, Z, I was so mad at ya…”

My skin crawled and I felt all my extremities go cold. “What? What did you do?”

He looked miserable. “I...shit. I moved up my trip to America. I leave tonight at ten.”

“Oh.”

“I’d switch it out, Z. I would. But Kim got the meetings with Capitol and RCA moved around, and got me booked in with some really good writers.”

“She got all this done in two days?” I would not cry. Fuck him, I would not cry.

He had the good sense to look sheepish. “My name can make things happen, I guess.” I knew the various labels had been trying to win his affection - he was a hot commodity for good reason.

“Yeah.” I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and looked for something to distract myself. Grabbing a ponytail holder off of my nightstand, I pulled my hair back and started to braid it. “Well, have a good trip, I guess. Safe travels and all that.” I stood to flee to the bathroom, my heart shattered in a thousand pieces. I wanted an evening or two to myself, not him run six thousand miles away.

He stepped in front of me. “Zoe, don’t hide.”

“That’s pretty fucking rich coming from you.” He looked like I’d slapped him, which was pretty much exactly what I wanted to do. “You were just about to sneak out of my flat, basically out of my fucking life for the next month, and not even say goodbye because we got into one stupid little fight?”

“Ya told me you didn’t want to be around me!”

“I told you I wanted a little space - Niall, I’ve spent most of the last almost-twenty eight years single. I’ve lived alone for five years. Can you appreciate that it’s hard for me to go from that to having someone around all the time? Yes, I was a total asshole about it and I wanted to apologize, hell, I tried to apologize over text. My communication sucks and I know that, but you’re fucking going to another contenient! Surely you see how fucked up that is!” By this point I’d made my way over to the front door and opened it. “Here’s your goddamn chance. Go.”

He stared at me, and I motioned for him to leave. The fury in my chest was intense. For the last two months he’d told me that he loved me and I was the best thing in his life and he was just going to basically immigrate to another country over a spat? Not even a good one. He’d not given me the chance to apologize or explain, so I wasn’t feeling much like extending the same courtesy.

“Zoe…”

“Seriously, get out of my fucking house, Niall.”

He stalked to the door, incredulous that I was tossing him out on his ass. I had bypassed my pissed off/screaming stage of anger and settled right into the quiet calm. It was this kind of mad that Paul warned people about - if they saw it, they should change their name and move out of the country. Well, my boyfriend was going for one of the two. I slammed the door shut. From the hall I heard him bellow, “Yeah, I fucking love you, too, Zoe!”

“Yeah, you’re fucking acting like it, Niall!”

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 12

“You know what my favorite thing about your face is?” Random thoughts from Zoe. Niall turned his eyes from the football match on the TV (against my own will, he had turned me into a Derby Rams fan). It was late on a Saturday night. Willie and Hannah were out of town and Deo had been relocated for the weekend. We hadn’t seen much of one another over the last week - he was finishing things for his upcoming charity golf tournament and gala, and sliding into the studio to write as often as he could. He claimed he'd had a stroke of inspiration lately and wanted to get back to making music. I was busy finishing up work on a big research project with a few other therapists, and hadn’t been home before 9:00 anytime recently. As of next week, his schedule was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen for an unemployed musician (as I liked to remind him): golf tournaments, fundraisers, charity games, concerts and festivals, and an extended trip to the U.S. to write and record more. Therefore, we had sequestered ourselves in his house and were having a grownup sleepover. Last night I’d insisted we make a fort out of cushions to eat pizza in - once I’d convinced him it was an amazing idea, he’d gone in with full gusto, choosing blankets that were sturdy. He fancied himself a fort engineer by the end, and was a little pissed when we knocked it down after the dinner during more active pursuits that resulted in an impressive patch of rug burn on my back. We took a long bath, with bubbles that I’d smuggled in, and I’d dozed off with my back resting on his chest, at ease with pretty much everything. He turned on some late 90s dance music this afternoon and we danced around like idiots, then tried (unsuccessfully) doing the tango (I have two left feet). I was trying to convince him to let me braid his hair, but he wasn’t there yet. It’d been the best 30 hours ever, and I was kind of buzzed off my love of him. Well, and the bottle of wine I’d been sipping on.

“What’s that, baby?” He took a long drink of his beer and I watched him swallow, enthralled. “Z?”

“Huh?”

He started laughing. “You have the attention span of a mouse. What’s your favorite thing about my face?”

“Oh yeah!” I was sitting on his left side on the ginormous sectional sofa in his living room, my feet across his lap. I scooted my butt closer until I was almost sitting on him, and turned his chin so he was facing forward and I had a perfect profile shot. “This. This is my favorite.”

“You’re poking my cheek!”

“No! I’m poking your eye dimple. It’s the cutest thing ever.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about - don’t have a dimple on my eye.”

“Right under, not ON your eye.” I rolled my eyes for emphasis. “Here.” I grabbed my phone from behind me and pulled up a picture of him I’d taken that morning. He was sitting on his countertop in his tightie whities, laughing at my impressions of various Food Network chefs while I made French toast. He looked so utterly perfect, laughing so hard he ended up getting the hiccups when I discussed Wonder Bread and Egg Beaters as Sandra Lee, his hair falling over his brow and fingers grasping the overhang of the counter. Who knew the members of One Direction loved cooking shows? I’d promptly walked over the kissed the living hell out of him after I snapped the pic. Such opportunities could not be wasted. “See? It’s a little dimple and it only shows when you’re genuinely smiling. Everytime I see it I want to buy a house and retire there because it’s the most perfect place on Earth.” Okay, maybe I’d had closer to a bottle and a half of wine. He looked at me with wide, adoring eyes, and caught my lips with his own.

“Know what my favorite part of your face is?”

“I’m guessing my lips because, blah blah, sucking you off,” I gave him a cheeky grin, expecting the usual male answer.

“You underestimate me, Zoe,” he replied, wrinkling his forehead and pushing his pretty lips out into a tiny pout. He actually looked a little hurt.

“I’m sorry, boo.” I traced his chin dimple with my thumb, pacifying him. “What’s your favorite part?”

He kissed my brow bone. “This. Can tell everythin’ you’re thinkin’ by your forehead and brows. You can’t hide a thing. Explains why you can’t play poker for shit.”

“I’m not THAT bad.”

“Babe, Nick took forty quid off you in one hand.”

“He cheats.”

“Sure he does.” He’d pulled me back against the cushions with him and I cuddled up to his side. “Love you. Bad poker face and all. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

I felt my emotions bubble up as they always did when he said something like this. “Love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“So possible.”

“Nope.”

“Shut up, shamrock.” In order to ensure his silence, I climbed over his lap and kissed him stupid. He upped the ante by slipping my t-shirt over my head, and I won by pushing his shorts down and sliding down on his cock.

His stylist, Ellie, and her favorite tailor showed up Sunday early afternoon to fit Niall for his fundraiser suit one last time. He was leaving soon for a golf tournament in Northern Ireland so all final preps needed to be now. I adored Ellie-she’d helped me find a dress (not even a dress, a fabulous creation of nature that was the most perfect item of clothing I’d ever had on my body) for the upcoming Horan Rose event. And to Niall’s chagrin, I’d paid for it myself despite his requests otherwise and whines to the stylist. I would be there not only in girlfriend capacity, but also representing the clinic and its autism research efforts. Luckily, my boss was coming as well, as Niall’s guest, so he could field all the tricky questions. An administrator I am not. When I’d shown Hannah pictures of the miracle dress, she’d been shocked.

“It’s pink.”

“‘tis.”

“You don’t wear pink. Ever.”

“I like pink!”

“I know, but 90% of your wardrobe is black! And it’s light pink at that!”

“Because pastels make me look dead. But this looks good.” I showed her the next pic in the roll of me modeling for Ellie.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

Hannah sat back, obviously proud of herself, “Love looks good on you, Zoe Jane.”

I threw a shoe at her, intentionally missing. She wasn’t wrong.

I laid on the bed while Niall pranced around in his underwear. His good mood was infectious, and Sam the tailor was having none of it.  The older gentleman who had twice whacked him on the back of the thigh for screwing around. He’d earned my adoration quickly.

“Zoe, will you look at these ties?” Ellie had plopped down next to me, holding up a large box. “I can’t decide which one.”

“Lord, she’ll put me in a bow tie, don’t let her choose, El!” I stuck my tongue out at Niall as I sorted. Damnit. He was right. I loved bow ties. They looked dapper.

“How about this one?” I held up a navy one for Ellie’s inspection.

“The peaches? You think?”

“Yup. In honor of his little peach bum.” He shook said bum at us, earning another smack from Sam. Too cute for words.

I was nervous about the fundraiser. Besides it being my first official event as Niall’s date, I was also going to meet the whole Horan clan - he was flying a boatload of people over from Ireland for the party. In negotiations with him and Kim, I’d gotten out arriving with him and doing the red carpet thing (the mere idea gave me hives). He wasn’t aware that I wasn’t going to be “arriving” at all - at my request, Kim was going to arrange for me to come in the back door of the facility. I knew I’d be photographed at some point or another, but I wanted to avoid it as much as possible. I agreed that I’d sit at his table and be on his arm instead of eating with Willie and Hannah nearby or my boss and his wife in the back of the room. He knew I was terrified of the attention, and tried to talk me down as much as possible.

“I know it’s a lot, babe.” We were FaceTiming as he got ready to head off to a rugby match with Rory.

“No, it’s fine. I just don’t want people paying attention to something that isn’t a the reason for the night,” I tried to explain. I started playing with my bracelet, twirling it around my fingers.

“Put the bracelet down, ya liar.”

“What?”

“Get on me about my nervous hands, and ya do the same damn thing.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Kate is next to Justin, so why wouldn’t ya be with me?”

“Um, because she’s his wife.”

“Is that all it takes then?  Ok? Wanna get married? Let’s go.” Wha? I knew my mouth was gaping.

“No! I mean...no, shut up.”

He knew he had me and smirked. “Just gotta say the word.”

I rolled my eyes. “They’ve known one another more than three months. They weren’t outed on the The Daily News and Sun out partying. Twice. The fangirls of the world don’t hate Kate. I don’t want to cause problems for you.”

“Z, are ya ever gonna realize that I don’t give a fuck? Yeah, I try to keep as much of me life private as I can, but I’m not going to hide ya. Ever. And I’ll protect you.” By this point he was pointing his finger at his laptop in a rant.

“God you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Likewise, pretty girl. I gotta go, car is here. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Nialler.”

Niall got home late Thursday night, and the Irish contingent starting arriving by the planeload Friday afternoon. I’d stayed late at work to get ahead since I’d be off Monday and Tuesday for the golf tournament and the inevitable aftermath-I’d been training my liver for this weekend since I was sixteen. After work I’d planned on going home, leaving Niall to his own devices with his guests. But in true Niall fashion he had his dad text me that he expected to see me when he landed. The little bastard had pulled out the Bobby Horan card.   When I finally left, a black Range Rover beeped at me from the curb and Basil waved.  I let out a sigh and muttered to myself.  “So much for taking the tube like a normal goddamn human being.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up, obviously.”

“He really doesn’t know how to take no for answer, does he?” I buckled into the passenger seat as Bas tossed my bag in the back.

I wasn’t one hundred percent on board with this uncomfortable hour drive and silently shook my fist at my boyfriend. I was still trying to figure out where I stood with Bas. While I was sure he didn’t hate me, my relationship with Niall and what it meant for his security (and heart) were still unknown. We both routinely got some nastygrams, and lately he’d been getting his phone hacked on the regular and spammed by little shits. I was anxious and had skipped lunch today because my stomach was going nuts with nerves. I was facing an entire long weekend filled with people who loved Niall and were going to be watching me. I didn’t work well under pressure. So I filled the car with awkward conversation until Bas’s eyes basically begged me to shut up. Rightfully silently chastised, I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes until we arrived home (shit, did I just refer to Niall’s house as home?). I didn’t even get my buckle undone when the door was opened.

“Ni, Jes-,” Oh. This was not my blonde bombshell. The older man with rosy cheeks beamed at me.

“Zoe! Aw, love, it’s a pleasure!” The legend himself, Bobby Horan, pulled me out of the car and into a gigantic bear hug. Unlike when I met Harry, however, I didn’t mind. I may have squealed a little bit.

“Back off, old man!” Niall elbowed his dad. “I haven’t seen my girl all week.”

“Whose fault is that, youngster?” Bobby gave me a grin, and I squeezed him again.

My quick confidence shot from Bobby quickly diminished when I walked into a house full of strangers. I knew it was coming but still was not prepared. Before I could blink, I’d met Eoghan, Bressie (hello...I was never going to be able to make eye contact with him), Bobby’s girlfriend Aoife, another Niall, and various other guys whose names I was going to spend the whole weekend trying to remember. I was passed from person to person - the Irish were huggers. Sensing my discomfort, Deo slid a Jameson in my hand. I mouthed a thank you to him and downed it only to have it replaced by a beer. After being appropriately introduced, I excused myself to go to the bedroom and change. And have a minor panic attack in the bathroom.

“Babe?” Shit, I’d been gone for almost half an hour.

“In here.”

“Decent?”

“Totally depends on your definition. But no, I’m not pooping.”

His head poked through the door, giving me a look. “Hiding, huh?”

It was useless, he’d figured out my M.O. “There are just so many of them. And they all love you. If you haven’t noticed, I tend to make an ass out of myself when I’m nervous.”

“I know. Still waiting for those strokes you promised me.”

“I hate you.”

“C’mere.” He pulled me up to him, wrapping his arms around my middle. “I missed ya. Didn’t even get a proper kiss. My da’ cock blocked me.”

“I’m assuming not for the first time.”

“You have no idea.” He’d finally worked a smile out of me and gave me a warm, gentle kiss that I felt down to my toes. The beer he’d been enjoying was obvious, but there was a slight mint to his taste as always. “Missed you, pretty girl.”

“I missed you, too.” I rested my head on his collarbone as an someone beat on the window in the closet, causing us to both jump a foot.

“Quit molesting the lady, Horan, and get your ass out here!”

“Fuck you, Eoghan!” he shouted back. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling my attention up to him. “Everyone out there is so excited to get to know you. You’re all I’ve talked about for months. Babe, they love you already. I promise.”

The Irish could party, let the record reflect. Aoife, Hannah, and I ventured out late Sunday morning for manicures and to get last minute supplies, including buy a new tie for Eoghan, who had insisted his could double as a headband the night before, requiring me to cut him out of it. None of Niall’s ties matched the intricate pattern of his suit, he claimed (Niall was positive he just wanted me to feel the fabric) and I’d been tasked. Once I’d gotten over my initial shyness, I realized why every one of these people were special to Ni. It made me feel even closer to him, and pondered introducing him to my family eventually (then promptly took a shot to chase that crazy idea away). The only stone left unturned was Maura. She and her husband were meeting us at the event. Willie and Deo privately had told me that she’d guilted Niall into the invitation - something she routinely did when there was something she was interested in. In the time we’d known one another I had never witnessed her interacting with him in any way. I had developed an attitude about her, and he was aware of it. I didn’t know Niall as a small child, but the idea of willingly leaving him was foreign to me. I didn’t know her side of the story, it was true. But even how she treated him now pissed me off. Plus, I’d bore witness to the affects of her abandonment, and that made me pull out my momma bear tendencies.

Over the last two months I’d observed Niall pour over details with planners and Justin, his co-host. He’d really put his heart and soul into it, and I was full of pride. So proud that I’d risked my perfect hairdo (okay, so it was Hannah and her masterful use of a flat iron and bobby pins) to give him a blowjob in the closet before he’d left. Right against his perfectly organized hat collection, near the mirror so he could watch in full detail as I swallowed him whole wearing nothing but a strapless bra (ouch) and lace boyshorts.

“Christ, if that’s the reaction I get for helpin’ people I’m gonna sign over my whole bank account.” I’d just nuzzled my cheek against his thigh and cleaned him off with a satisfied sigh. Then I  did something so positively dirty that when my rational brain returned I couldn’t believe it. I dipped my finger in a tiny trickle of come on his thigh, and, eyes locked with his, and dabbed it behind my ears like perfume. Then licked my finger.

“So I have a little bit of you with me all night.” I loved philanthropic men, what could I say? He hauled me to my feet and was about to maul me when his phone rang. “That’s your car.”

“Fuuuuuck. I’m going to think of that all night.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” I kissed his lips pertly and rubbed his nose with mine. “Go, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll be the one falling down in heels.”

“Don’t worry,” he turned to grin at me as he picked up his suit jacket, “I’ll catch ya.”

The ballroom at the private golf club was madness. Ellie and I had ridden from the house together, and were both bouncing with excitement. Swanky events weren’t my thing, but I knew the night promised to be amazing. We had shuffled in through the kitchen, and observed Jamie Freakin’ Oliver yelling out directions. El didn’t give me time to adequately fan girl. Probably for the best. I’m sure I would have ended up stealing a carrot. We spotted Bressie and Eoghan and huddled with them. My inner matchmaker decided that Ellie and the single Bressie would be adorable, and I made a mental note to mention that to Niall later. He was still working the green carpet, and would be for a while. I’d spied him outside of the ballroom doors and felt giddy inside - he looked amazing (god, Ellie was good at her job) and in his element.

We sipped Horan Shamrock Spritz cocktails and the obvious jokes about Niall being in our mouths were shared. I privately gloated knowing he was more than just in my mouth. Eoghan eventually made a face, “Of course she’d show up to this - rich and famous folks.” We all turned in unison and Bres groaned. I recognized the tiny (seriously, I’m short - I would tower over her) woman as Maura. Not wanting to be obvious and being a huge fan of avoidance, I excused myself to go to the charity section and spend some time mingling and discussing the clinic with guests, most of whom had no idea that I was anything other than a practitioner attending the event. My feet ached by the time dinner was announced, the royal blue shoes that matched some of the gem detail on the top of my cocktail dress not being designed for long term wear. I mentally patted myself on the back for tossing a pair of flip flops into my bag.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” a familiar Irish voice interrupted my conversation with an older couple about vaccines (for the nine millionth time in my career). Niall put his arm around my waist, “I need to steal this one to meet a few people. Have you all seen the silent auction tables? We’ve got some great prizes. Glenn,” he patted the man’s elbow, “there’s a package to play with Rors this fall. It’s got your name written all over it.” Like that he slid me a way.

“I owe you. So hard.”

“Your eyes were screamin’. I know when my girl needs help.” He kissed my cheek as we navigated the crowd, being stopped by every other person for Niall to chat. “You smell fuckin’ amazin’.” We raised our eyebrows at one another.

“Musk.”

“You’re going to kill me, woman.”

We were interrupted by a high pitched, loud voice, “There’s my baby boy!” I knew I couldn’t avoid her all night.

“Mam, I was lookin’ for ya. Wanted to introduce you to Zoe, my girlfriend. Zo, this is my mam, Maura, and step dad, Chris.” I could see Maura eyeing me up and down, and I felt everything from my hair to my toes being judged. I slapped on a huge smile and reminded myself that he loved her despite the shenanigans she’d caused, so I owed it to him to try.

I extended my hand, “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“You, too, dear. I didn’t know you had a young lady, Niall.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, for a couple of months.” The tension was thick and I was uncomfortable.

“Did the two of you have a nice trip?” It was lame, but it was something. We stood and talked awkwardly (Niall had his arms crossed over his chest with his hands tucked, a sure sign he was uncomfortable) until dinner was announced. We were all at the same table, but luckily were joined by Bobby and Aoife as well, and Deo and Martin. Willie, Hannah, Eoghan, Bressie, and other friends were behind us, and at the next table were Justin and Kate (whom I had grown to quickly adore) and their family members. There were plenty of people to chat with so I could avoid direct conversation with Maura, who, to be fair, didn’t seem all that interested in talking to me. Luckily, the wine was flowing.

Shortly after dessert was served, some big shot came over and Niall introduced us all. As they left to start the speeches, the gentleman complimented Bobby and Maura on raising such a fine young man. Having sat back and watched her bask in Niall’s glory all night (and watching his jaw tense and him clench his fist when she did), including claiming him auditioning for XFactor was her idea (it wasn’t, and any fan with internet access knew that) and how she always knew he’d be special, my irritation grew, I couldn’t control myself. The cat was out to play.

“Yes, Bobby, he’s right,” I reached over and grabbed “the father-in-law” (as he’d dubbed himself the night before)’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You really did a fabulous job with that one. Thank you.” I knew Maura caught what I’d done, and frankly I didn’t care. She glared at me and I gave her the eye right back. Deo watched us in amusement.

“Zoe, would you like to go to the powder room with me?” She was throwing down a challenge, and emboldened by liquid courage, I took it.

“Certainly.” Aoife looked at me with wide eyes, and stood to come along. I waved my hand at her, and she grabbed it. She had my back.

“Aoife, I think this needs to be a talk between Niall’s mother and his fling,” Maura said, giving her a withering look. Oh fuck no. Those were fighting words. I pushed my chair in with a little more force than I’d intended, and the table shook. She might be little, but I had rage and a little country in me. I would take her on for insulting me, her ex-husband’s girlfriend, and abandoning her sons. With pleasure.

“Well, let’s go have this talk, shall we?” I turned on my heel and walked off to the private toilets, not looking back to see if she’d follow me. I knew she would. And I knew whatever I said would be turned around to make her the victim. We all knew women like her. I leaned against the toilet wall and waited.

“Listen, missy,” she’d barely cleared the door. Normally I hated confrontation, but this was different. This was standing up for Niall. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I am his mother and you will not undermine me. I am just as responsible for his success as his father!” She was feisty, I’ll give her that. “You don’t know anything about me and how dare you embarrass me in front of these people. You’re just a slag using him for his money and connections.” I just let her rant. Also, project much?

My voice was much more calm than I’d anticipated. “You’re right, Maura, I don’t know you. I don’t know what you went through when you abandoned your sons, but I’ve seen first hand the damage it’s caused. I’ve had to deal with the complex Niall has about women leaving him, and it almost ruined our relationship before it started. Forgive me if I underestimate your contribution to his life beyond birthing him.”

“You have some nerve!” The door opened and Aoife and Hannah walked in just in time to hear her shriek at me.

“I do. You’re right. But, I’m not ‘some fling’. If you were an active part of his life, you’d know that. Everyone else from Ireland knew. I love your son. Desperately. And I apologize,” that hurt to even say (sorry not sorry), “if you feel that I haven’t adequately respected you. But please quit taking credit for something you had very little to do with. Niall is the amazing person he is in spite of you, not because.” My peace being said, I brushed past her and walk out of the bathroom, my hands shaking and went straight to the bar.

The night proceeded on, but I felt uneasy. It probably wasn’t my place to tell his mother off, even though she richly deserved it. Especially on a night like this. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. My stomach rebelled against me and I was anxious as hell. I’d seen her approach Niall afterwards and the two of them venture outside, their heads bent towards one another. Shit. Before I could check with him, however, the performances started.

Hannah had shared the highlights (greatly exaggerating, as to be expected) with the boys, and Eoghan had declared me his hero. Bressie jokingly offered to pay my tab for the evening. Bobby very obviously called me daughter multiple times in her earshot. At least some people were on my side.

“Hidin’ so I can’t have a dance with ya?” I’d be standing at the bar, sipping another Horan cocktail, and his hands rubbed my hips. He dipped his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “Gotta be careful kissing your neck tonight. Not big on the taste of myself.” I laughed and turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Hi, bugaboo.”

“Hi.” He kissed my nose. “Heard you’re causing trouble.” My stomach dropped and my face flamed even more. I bit my lip, hard.

“Sorry, I ran of-”

“Don’t apologize,” he stared at me. “No one has ever called Maura on her bullshit before. No one ever stood up for me like that.”

I exhaled, the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders. I pulled on a little piece of hair on his neck. “I could have picked a better venue, though.”

“Probably. But this is twice you’ve proven you’re a fucking bad ass in public.” He kissed me and lead me onto the dance floor as “Fix You” by Coldplay blasted. Appropriate.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 11

Saturday I’d convinced my jailers to let me escape back to my own apartment. Niall wasn’t huge on the idea, I could tell, but I was scared of wearing out my welcome. And I really wanted to walk around in my underwear, something I would have been fine doing at his house if it wasn’t for the roommates. I was very much used to living alone, and being stuck with three guys, even though I was secretly in love with one and adored the other two was like living in a fraternity house. A very clean, well organized frat house, but nonetheless...beer bongs and FIFA. I missed my pink towels and Tocca hand soap, and quiet. I really missed quiet.

Deo had been feeling a bit neglected and pouty, which I pointed out to Niall that morning after we got out of the shower (shower sex was my new favorite because he had a detachable shower head that did glorious things. He offered to buy me one, as well. Finally, a gift I could get behind.). Their friend Matt was coming to town that afternoon, so I suggested that we go our own ways for the night, which he agreed to begrudgingly. He tried to get me to take Phil with me, but I assured him Aaron would be man enough to protect me. Besides, had he seen my right hook? I’d snuck on my phone before Niall woke up that morning, and googled my name. There was the shit I was expecting (including a not-flattering picture of me drunk at a football game in college), but also quite a few really, really nice comments. People genuinely happy for Niall, commenting on his adoring smile and lovesick expressions. I felt decent about the whole she-bang and confident about where it was all going.

A night of dinner and dancing was on the books as I headed out to Soho with Aaron, Hannah (Willie, too, was on the lads night), and Carly. We hit two gay clubs, and I decided it was my night’s mission to get Aaron laid while we danced to some of the best house music around. Never one to put style over comfort, I’d worn battered fuschia Chucks with my little black dress. I wasn’t looking to be picked up, and I couldn’t throw shapes in heels like Carly could. This was a night about letting loose with my friends after what had ended up being a very long week. And I was there for it. I was goofy and drunk and in love with the world. So naturally I started drunk texting Niall.

“Hi buggaboo! I miss youuuuu.”

“Petal . Have we been drinking ?”

“We? I assume you have.”

“Secret?”

“Yes .”

“I’ve been drinking. Shhhhhhh :)”

“Going to get Aaron laid. He needs ridden like a cowboy.”

“go mission babe”

“heyyyyyyy”

“hi pretty girl .”

“Where are you?”

“On the way to Libertine.”

“Need a ride?”

“Zo ?”

“you ok ?”

“Yeah. Sorry we’re moving bars.”

“Someone Carly knows is getting us into the teddy bear bar.”

“The Toy Room ?”

“Yes! You’re pretty and smart, Niall Horan <3”

So The Toy Room was almost as insufferable as Libertine, based on my previous experience with Paul. I was regretfully underdressed and not even my cleavage or Hannah’s mouth could get us a second look by the bartenders to get a drink. The buzz I had was wearing off and we’d lost Carly within seconds of arrival. Also, a girl waiting in the queue had called me Niall’s fat ass girlfriend. Spotted.

“Toy Room sucks.”

“Come to Libertine.”

“I’ll give them your name.

“Count to ninety,” I told Hannah.

“Giving them a timeframe?”

“Yup. No drinks in ninety seconds or we bo-”

“Excuse me?” A very large, very bald man with an in-ear headset tapped my shoulder.

I looked up at him with wide eyes. Whatever he said, I totally didn’t do it. Jess and I made eye contact, and she squeezed my hand. Aaron’s eyes were filled with fear. Hannah stood by, ready to get in between me and Lerch. The only times club security approached us we ended up getting kicked out for something. Or Carly was being arrested (it’d happened before).

“Zoe Bechtel?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Styles would like to invite you and your friends to the private room.”

What? “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person. I don’t know Mr. Styles.” Baldie repeated this information into his headset.

Hannah elbowed me in the ribs. “What? I don’t know him.”

Aaron then decided to lean in, “Z, it’s Harry Fucking Styles.”

“Yeah, even your mom wants him, Aaron, I know.” He flipped me off.

“Miss? He said he’s your boyfriend’s bandmate, and that he’d like to meet you.” I’m sure Harry wasn’t accustomed to people turning down his invitations.

“Is there booze?” I was going to need it.

The security guard grinned at me. “Tonnes.”

We were lead back to VIP by Clark (of course I’d asked for his name and was trying to get his life story). Aaron and Hannah each took one of my hands, and Hannah showed Clark a picture of Carly to see if he could round her up as well. I was nervous as hell and gnawing the nail on my index finger. Goddamn it, Niall. We passed a number of London celebutantes and other A Listers, and I was just staring at my Chucks. My life seemed to be a series of poor wardrobe choices.

“Zoe!” A deep Northern accent yelled at me, and before I could registered what was going on, I was lifted off the ground and my face pressed into a silky shirt. We were hugging. Okay. We’d reached hugging territory.

“Harry, put the poor girl down!” The voice of a nasally sounding woman called out, and I was forever grateful to her.

“Hiiiiiiiii,” the tall, dark haired man grinned at me.

“Hey,” I straightened my skirt and saw Hannah cracking up. “You’re Harry, I take it.”

“Yup. You’re Zoe. Even prettier than Nialler said. So glad to finally meet you.” He pinched my cheek. He pinched my fucking cheek. I resisted my urge to slap his hand, but before I could, he hugged me again.

“Jesus, Harold, paws off the merchandise!” A pretty blonde, the one who got me put down, stepped around him. “I’m Gemma, Harry’s much wiser sister.”

I shook her hand, liking her already, “Zoe. And my friends Hannah, Jess, and Aaron.”

Everyone shook hands, and Hannah went in for the hug on Harry. Aaron, too. Jess had the good sense to avoid eye contact and hide behind me - this is why she and I were friends. Apparently Niall and Harry had been texting (news to me - he rarely discussed his bandmates and I had no specific questions to ask. We talked about the experiences more than the people.), and Harry had invited him to the party he was hosting for a friend tonight. Niall had declined, but texted him a bit ago that I was at the club with friends. Harry had then showed four different security staff a picture of me that Niall had sent him, pilfered from my IG, and had me hunted down. Well, at least there was plenty of booze. Gemma hooked us up with vodka, and we were officially kind of fancy.

Harry took me around and introduced me to the pretty people who filled the lounge. Most could have cared less, and a few gave me down right withering looks, but at least they pretended to be polite since I was with Harry. I said lots of hellos, threw out fake smiles, gawked a bit, and noticed Aaron in the corner with a morning radio DJ who appeared to be quite the close talker. I settled down onto a lounge, and tried to find Hannah and Jess. As the minutes ticked by and they didn’t return, I stood to find them dancing with Gemma. Feeling too self-conscious to join them, and having been abandoned by Harry because something shiny had caught his eye, I plopped back, bored.

“Having me hunted down and brought to VIP, eh?”

“Not to be rude, but there are ppl in here wearing socks that cost more than my rent. HELP ME.”

“Hannah might be leaving Willie for Gemma, FYI.”

Messing with Niall was very little fun when he didn’t play along.

“Carly has appeared. And has her tits in H’s face. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“My god, someone just asked me if I was Harry’s AUNT. AN AUNT, NIALL.”

“Fuck me, I just spilled half a bottle of Goose on Alexa Chung.”

“Tell Deo I’ll be his wingwoman for the rest of his life-just come here and save me from this personal moritification.”

“Niall, if you love me or even just like me a little, you will come take me away. It’s your fault I’m being made to socialize with pretty ppl.”

No sooner had I sent the last text than Harry plopped down next to me, holding a bottle of booze.

“Sorry, been a shit friend. Had to do the host thing.”

“Harry, we literally met an hour ago. You’re not a shit friend. It’s cool.” As I talked, he turned his body to face me.

“Nope. We’re gonna bond. You’re my Nialler’s girl which makes you one of my best friends by default,” he gave a smile so full of dimple that I could see what women swooned in his presence. He had his own energy cloud floating around him. “He said you like Jameson. I have tequila. Will that work?”

I shrugged, “I’m not picky.”

“Hey, I have those same shoes!” He had good taste at least.

Turns out, good tequila is really, really good. And doesn’t taste like a rattlesnake’s asshole (my previous description for cactus nectar). Also, Harry was a riot. By the time we’d done our third shot we had declared ourselves official best friends and started playing fashion police. He invited me to take over for his personal assistant on his film shoot. Or to leave Niall and marry him. When I informed him that I couldn’t be with a man who was better dressed than me, he pulled me into his lap for a cuddle. Hannah joined us, finally, and made herself at home on Harry’s other knee. I kinda of adored this big man child.

“So I take it you don’t need me to take you away anymore?” The Irish accent growled in my ear. I spun around, freeing myself from Harry’s grasp.

“Buggaboo!” I launched myself from Harry’s leg to Niall’s lap, grabbing his neck like a spider monkey, kissing his flushed cheeks.

“Hey, babe. I see you made friends,” he nudged Harry with his knee.

“Nialler!” Harry piled on our hug, squeezing me in the middle of them. Women worldwide would pay to be part of this sandwich. “I missed you!”

“Harold and I are going to take over the world,” I proclaimed.

“I like this one,” Harry motioned to me. “She’s evil.” In sync, he and I raised our hands to make claws and growled at Niall.

“What have I done?” He gave me his whole face delighted smile, and I shot my own back at him, caressing his stubble. God he looked

“Whatcha doin’ here?”

“You said if I loved you I should come take you away. So here I am.” Well, that was a very exact way to word the statement.

“Here you are,” I said back to him, slowly.

“Yup.” He bopped my nose.

“Because you love me.”

“Because I love you, Zo.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?” He lifted my chin to look in his eyes. Mine had tears in them.

“Yeah, it’s really cool. ‘Cause I love you, too.”

My text alert started buzzing at 7:00. We’d been home about 3 hours at that point, and Niall was snoring like a freight train next to me. I got up to try locate the missing iPhone, tripping over his boots and landing on a leopard print jacket I didn’t recognize. What the hell? Strange gasps were coming from the other room. Then my phone’s loud ring (Sherlock theme song, natch) started playing. What the the hell? I pulled myself up and stumbled into the living room, trying to locate my handbag. One Harry Styles was passed out on the loveseat, limbs askew. Jess was drooling on the sofa pillows. I located the offending technology and lifted it above my head like a trophy. Jess raised her head a bit and groaned. The call was from Paul.

“Where are you?” He sounded concerned. “Who are you with?”

“Home. Niall and Jess are here. And Harry Styles.” I blew a piece of hair out my face.

“Well, you’re going to want to get the boys up. The Sun tweeted pics of you on Harry’s lap last night and people are freaking the fuck out.”

“What? No, we were hanging out! I was on Niall’s lap most of the night.” I leaned against the counter, holding my head.

“And Harry giving you a piggyback ride outside. Your granny panties are showing.”

“Fuck! I was wearing Spanx.” Shit, this is no good, very bad news.

“Oh, I know, baby doll. I’m looking at them. And you assholes went to the The Toy Room without me? Rude.”

I worked my way back to my room and grabbed my iPad, flopping on the bed. “Let me call you back, Paulie.”

Niall raised his head, “What going on, babe?” I ignored him and went to the Twitter app, pulling up the The Sun’s account. Motherfucker. There I was, in all my glory, sitting on Harry’s lap, leaning back against his chest, both of us hysterically laughing. If you didn’t know it was nothing, it did looking semi-intimate. And then the offending Spanx pic - lord. You could actually see the stretch marks on my thighs. I slapped my head. Niall was following us and grabbing my ass as I clung to Harry’s back. I remembered stepping out of my untied shoe as we made our way outside. Harry scooped me up (surprisingly strong, that one. He only looks like Gumby.), and Niall grabbed the shoe. I could see very easily how someone would get the wrong idea about this picture. Jess and Carly were right behind Niall (Hannah had been dragged home by Willie after she tried to kiss Gemma and Aaron had disappeared with the DJ), but they’d been cropped out. We went out a backdoor into a waiting car. I didn’t recall even seeing photographers. I covered my mouth. I looked like a drunken slag.

Niall peered over my shoulder at the tablet, and made a noise that I would only describe as animalistic. “MotherFUCKERS! These are fucking cell picss - it was someone in VIP. The only person in the alley were employees of the club. I’ll fucking have them fired.” He grabbed his phone and started firing off a text.

I still sat in shock. My God, my patients’ parents would see this. My coworkers would see this. “I look like I’m about to take on both of you. My God, Niall. I look like a whore!” Tears ran down my cheeks silently.

“You’re not a whore, baby. You didn’t do anything! Fucking FUCK. You made us get kebabs and you fucking tucked in Jess and Harry. You walked Carly to her damned door because ‘bad people lurk, Niall!’”

My voice had approached shrieking, “Yeah, well, that’s not obvious here!”

Jess poked her head in the open door, “Zo, you okay?” I looked at her, shell shocked. It takes a fair amount to rattle me to the core, but we’ve reached that level. Ni looked terrified.

“C’mere.” Jess sat down beside me and wrapped me up in her arms, whispering words of comfort.

“HAROLD!” Niall got up and walked into the living room, and we heard him rattling Harry awake. “Look at this fucking horseshit!” Harry was still 90% asleep and drunk, and he groaned and made weird noises. “Look at this, Haz! They’re dragging Zoe through the fucking mud!”

“What the hell?” From the bed, we could see Harry sit up and take the iPad. “Shit. These aren’t pap shots. That was someone in the alley.”

“Yep.”

“It was one of the people out smoking, I bet. Look at the angle. Jesus Christ.” The two stared at one another, communicating silently.

“Yeah.” Niall was pulling his hair.“Get your goddamn lawyers on the phone. I’ll pay whatever fees. I want this shit gone!” I buried my head back into Jess’s shoulder.

“It’s a whole new world, baby girl.” She kissed my hair as Niall started talking to someone on the phone. Kimmy, if I was gathering it correctly. Harry was on his phone, too, talking in a low voice.

“Guys.” I walked out into the living room. Niall turned from the kitchen window, and Harry covered the speaker on his phone, reaching his hand out to me.

“I’m so sorry, Z.” He looked heartbroken, and I mussed his short hair.

“S’okay.”

“The pictures are out there, yeah?” Niall walked back into the room and sat down on the couch beside me, and put this phone on speaker. “Kim, Zoe is talking.”

“Hi, Kimmy. I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this.” What a way to wake up on a Sunday morning - I could verify. “Anyhow, the pics are out. They’ve been retweeted. Even if The Sun pulled them would it make a difference?”

“It could,” Harry started, as Kim said, “Not really.”

We finally decided that Harry would have his attorneys look into it. He called a security guard to retrieve him and Jess, and gave me hugs, apologizing for the incident. He was headed to France to start the film soon, but he promised to be in touch. He and Niall bro-hugged and leaned their heads in, whispering to one another. I hated that me being stupid was causing Niall issues. For a boy that a week ago had really never had much public drama, he was sure getting his taste now.

He put on a huge (fake) smile. “D’ya want breakfast? We could get something delivered?” I shook my head and walked back into the bedroom, throwing myself on the mattress. My face rested on the pair of offending Spanx, and I threw them against the wall. Niall stood in the doorway and stared, chewing on his poor, abused thumbnail.

“I’m so sorry, Niall.” I said it more into my pillow than outloud. God, he’d just finally told me he loved me last night, and less than twelve hours later I wouldn’t blame him if he cut bait. “This is humiliating for you.” When all else failed, my natural instinct was to blame myself. I suddenly felt fifteen again. Kyle the Worst, my high school boyfriend, had been caught cheating on a geometry exam and kicked off the football team. It was my fault because I hadn’t prepared him for it properly, and the bruised ribs I got the evening after he was removed were my punishment. When I fought back, he slapped me across the face.  When my mom saw the wounds and told my dad, he agreed that Kyle might have been out of line, but really, why else would he be dating the smart girl? (My dad taught me how to throw a punch when I was 8 in case of bullies, but the ones you date didn’t count, I guess.) That’s how my brain processed the first twenty plus years of my life, and right now, I was back there. Seven years of progress being pushed to the side.

“Zoe, why the fuck are you sorry? Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. My God, no.” Niall knew this story. I’d told him one night in his dark bedroom, my face buried in his chest as he rubbed my shoulders. He just listened and told me they were wrong. So wrong.

He fell on the bed and pulled me into his lap. “I’m not humiliated, I’m pissed off at the idiot who took those pics, The fuckin’ Sun, and anyone who thinks they have to right to say shit about you. I fuckin’ love you. I love you so much. I meant it when I said it last night. Wanted to tell you forever but I was too big of a pussy. My heart is breakin’ because you’re hurt and it’s because you’re with me.” He was crying, too. My God, I’d made him cry.

“No! No crying!” I furiously rubbed at his cheeks, trying to get them stop by friction alone.

“Then no cryin for you,” he mimed my actions, making me laugh. “There’s m’girl. Listen,” he lowered his eyes so we were staring directly at one another, “I will fight someone to the death for you. It’s only been two months, but I’m pretty sure you’re the love of me life, Zo. I knew I loved you the second I saw your smile in person. Cupid shot me in my arse. I tried to pretend it was somethin’ else until that night you played with my hair and wore my hat. I was so far gone for ya. Ya get me. You’re smart and kinda. Ya make me laugh my tits off. And you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever met, inside and out. Everytime I see ya I feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.”

Well now the tears were for a completely different reason.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 10

I took Basil’s words to heart and thought intensely about how dating Niall would affect my life. I spent an evening searching online for girls he and his bandmates had dated - the reactions were daunting at best. Their lives were definitely thought to be public property, and everyone seemed to have an opinion. The women they were involved with were harassed and torn apart for every single move they made.  Rumors ranged from the absurd to downright cruel. It was suggested that a pregnancy was faked, that members were being closeted, and various girls had used members to further their own agendas for fame. It was frightening to say the least. And if I had an ounce of common sense and self-preservation, I would have sprinted off in the other direction (instead of one direction - snort). But I didn’t. I had to learn my lessons the hard way.

I stayed at Niall’s house a few more times over the next few weeks, and he at mine. He loved when I cooked for him courtesy of the recipe book Grandma B had made me when I moved away to school (he did inform me that his trainer, however, would hate me). I caught myself stocking up on Stella and his favorite snack, hummus and carrots. He replaced his regular sized bottles of bumble & bumble shampoo and conditioner with the economy sized ones, and I found a new flat iron and my favorite face wash on the counter in his bathroom. He’d even gone as far as stashing an emergency Cadbury bar in the house at all times, having survived the aftermath of me having a chocolate craving with nothing handy. We laid in bed at night telling each other stories, giggling or sometimes crying. Mornings after we spent the night together I'd wake up to him cuddled around me. He had no problem showing affection, if anything, he was handsy as hell. When he went out of town for a week and a half at the Masters and then a vacation, I genuinely missed him. So much. And that scared me more than anything.   

One night shortly after he’d returned from The Masters, he showed up at my door with a delivery guy and two flat screen TVs. The shocked look on my face only lasted a second, then immediately turned into a glare.  “Can I help you, Horan?”  I spread my arms across the door frame, blocking his entrance.  He and his lackey weren’t coming in unless I got a goddamn explanation.

“It’s a gift, Z!” he pleaded. I narrowed my eyes in response.  He pouted his plump little lips at me and shot me the most pathetic puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen.  I grabbed the collar of his light cotton henley and yanked him through the door.  “You - inside. You two wait here.”  Niall shot me a look and I rolled my eyes, huffing out a “please” to the stunned delivery men in my hallway.

Niall toed at the carpet inside my door, sheepishly glancing up at me as I paced in front of him.  “What the hell Niall?  A). I don’t want you spending money on me, and B). shouldn’t a gift be something I want and/or I would use? I don’t need a tv, let alone two of them! I don’t even have cable or anything to watch on the TV!” I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. “You're being fucking ridiculous!”

“Yeah, about that…” He tried to look innocent and gave me a smile.

I froze and stared at him, slack-jawed and pissed.  “Seriously? You got cable for my flat?! I don’t watch TV! Netflix is all I need.”  

Niall reached out and took my hands in his mitt-sized palms and softly stroked across my knuckles.  “I can’t watch golf or footie on Netflix, petal.” Petal. I was quickly learning this was his nickname to pacify me. And it usually worked because honestly, how cute is that?

“You’re kidding me. So you want to come over here just to watch sports?”

He gave me a smarmy grin, “Gotta have something to watch while you’re sucking me off.”

I literally growled at him and pushed his shoulders while he laughed. “C’mon, I was waiting here for an hour the other night when ya got stuck behind that accident coming home. And I get bored when you take a shower.”

I crossed my arms with a pout, “You could always JOIN me in the shower.”

His shit eating grin lit up his face and his pure blue eyes glowed, “Sure, after I check the scores.”  He pressed a kiss to my cheek while I was frozen in place still pouting at his antics.  He flung the front door open and waved to the delivery men to come in.  “This way gentleman!  The lady will be keeping the TVs!”

The next Tuesday night I was surprised to hear the TV playing when I went to unlock my door. Niall hadn’t told me he was coming over. And yes, he had a key - it was just easier.

“Honey, I’m hooooome.” Rory McIlroy was being interviewed on the screen (Christ, I knew golfers by name now), so I knew he couldn’t be far away. He stuck his head out of the kitchen, and I jogged over to him, throwing my arms around his neck. When I leaned in for a kiss, I noticed his face was red and his hair looked like he’d been yanking it out by the roots. Also, he looked like he was going to throw up.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” I backed away slowly. Being sick was not on my agenda for this week, and I really didn’t want to take care of someone with the man flu. I could only imagine how whiny Niall would be.

“No. Just gotta talk to ya about something.” The thumbnail went into his mouth, and I felt my stomach drop. He hadn’t seemed this wrecked about something since he told me about the girl in LA. Oh Christ. He’d been in the States and the Bahamas a few weeks ago. Had he done something stupid? I looked around for the nearest blunt object in case I needed to hit him.

“The Daily Mail has pics they’re going to publish tomorrow…” My stomach dropped instantly.

“Pics of WHOM, NIALL?!” My voice edged up up a notch, and was very loud. My hands had turned into little blocks of ice, and I could feel my cheeks on fire. Now I was going to be the one to throw up. All of my physical anxiety symptoms in less than ten seconds. A new record.

He rubbed his hand over his face and pulled roughly at his hair.  “Us. At quiz night last week. You sitting on my lap when Paul was cleaning up the spilled pint, a couple of us kiss-” I instantly relaxed my shoulders and let out a breath.  Niall registered my reaction and it dawned on him why I was so worked up.  “Jesus Christ, Zoe, did you think I was going to tell you they were pics of me and another girl?!”

I slid down and sat on the floor of my kitchen because my legs felt like jello. They were pics of us, doing normal couple stuff. That I could handle. Niall squatted in front of me, picking up my chin.

“Did ya really think I was going to tell you they were pics of me with someone else? Z, no baby. I told you that.” The hurt expression on his face almost broke my heart. I couldn’t lie to him, so I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I just walked in and you were freaking out, and said pictures, and, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just spazzed. The last time I saw you like this you told me about the girl in LA. I don’t remember anyone taking pictures of us.” Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks at any moment.  I hated the broken look on his face. I leaned up to stroke his cheek. “You shouldn’t bend like that, it’s bad for your knee.

“Yeah, usually you don’t know they’re being taken,” he moved into a sitting position across from me so our legs were touching. “I’d like to bitch slap the person that invented a fucking camera on a phone.” I let him pull me closer into a comforting hug.

Then I heard my toilet flush and I jumped a foot. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, Christ. Yeah. Bas is here. We need to figure out what’s going on. Kimmy is on her way, too.” Alright, Basil just shit in my bathroom, which hadn’t been cleaned since last year, and Niall’s manager whom I’ve never met was on her way to my house. Ace.

By the time Kimmy (who was bloody adorable) arrived, Bas, Niall, and I were all two drinks into the night. Niall had called to order us Thai, but my stomach was in no shape to eat. “Got ya some coconut soup - think that’ll stay down?” He whispered in my ear, obviously having heard me wretch in the bathroom. I laid my head on his shoulder, and he played with my hair, chatting with Bas about golf, and gnawing on his hand. I knew it was going to be a clusterfuck, but honestly, seeing him tear himself apart was worse. I grabbed his hand out of his mouth and kissed it.

Once the food arrived, everyone tucked in but me. These people obviously weren’t blessed with the nervous stomach gene.

“Okay, so what do we do? There’s no way to stop them, is there?” I started off.

“Short of an injunction, no.” Kim looked at me over her noodles. “And injunctions are saved for big shit, like the time the Daily Star alluded to Niall having a crack problem.”

“It was meth, not crack,” he corrected.

I raised an eyebrow at her, and turned to the boy on my left. “Junkie.”

“This kind of thing is probably best if we don’t respond. We’ve made it a point to not comment on Niall’s personal relationships in the past. It worked when Greg caused a fuss, and with all the Selena rumors.” I nodded at Kim, and Niall squeezed my hand.

Bas leaned forward. “Zoe, it’s going to be like I told you before. The stuff being said about you won’t be nice. And your entire life is going to be on Twitter within an hour. You’d probably do best to stay offline the next few days. And take a few vacation days from work.” I could feel Niall tense next to me.

“No, I can’t do that.” All eyes turned to me. “I mean, yeah, I’ll stay offline. But I can’t take random days off with no notice. It’ll leave everyone in a lurch. My kids don’t handle change well. Me not being there will fuck everything up.”

“I understand, but I don’t thi-”

“Bas, she said no.” Niall’s voice was harsh. “See if we can get someone to drive her to and from.”

“Not necessary. I don’t need a damn driver.”

“Z, we’ve been through this, babe. Let me do this.” Niall looked annoyed and tired, and almost pleading. I nodded. I can play nice.

Basil tried again, “I’d feel better if you stayed at the house at least the next couple of nights. It minimizes your exposure.”

“Okay. But only if he,” pointing to Niall, “agrees to make me breakfast.” No one really laughed at my obvious attempt of a joke. Lame.

“About your social media, then.”

“I deleted Facebook and Twitter after we talked.” Niall looked at me with wide eyes. Obviously he hadn’t noticed my missing tweets. “Instagram is only people I know personally. And I removed anything that could be considered risque. I’ve only used SnapChat a handful of times. There’s LinkedIn, but that’s basic shit.” I’d spent one evening last week trying to clean up my digital footprint. I’m sure I did a horrible job, but at least basic info seekers were taken care of.

Basil nodded at me. Dare I say he looked a little appreciative? “You might want to let your family know this is coming. They very likely will get calls. And your close friends.”

“Okay.” Now to wait for my life to explode.

I said goodbye to Kimmy, and went into my room to pack for a few days at Casa del Horan. As I was trying to decide what shoes to take, I sent a group text to my crew. Niall laid across the bed, watching.

“FYI, pics of N and I are being published trmw.”

“If ppl come calling, please only use your best insults.”

“(Also, fuck me. Everyone is freaking out and I don’t know what to do.)”

Hannah offered to fight anyone that messed with me. Carly had her back. The most helpful advice, as always, was from Paul. “You’re going to become internet hated!”

     I laid down next to Ni, tucking my face into his neck. “Is this really going to be that big of a shit show? Fans seem to like you a lot and you've never had a lot of drama.”

     “Been checking up on me, yeah? No, not much drama. We don't have a lot to base off of-I've only publicly dated a few girls.”

I tried to explain to my mom what was going on. She knew I had a boyfriend and that he was a singer, but she had no idea who he was or his popular culture standing. Her knowledge of music ended in 1984. She’d spoken to him on the phone once when he answered for me as I tried to unlock the door, and couldn’t understand anything he said because of his accent. She could not grasp that it was a big deal that pictures of him with me would cause an uproar. Finally, I gave up and just asked her not to speak to anyone about me, and to tell my dad and brother the same. They were definitely the liabilities.

Bas drove us back to Niall’s where I ended up watching Anchorman for the eighth time with Willie and Deo while catching up on some paperwork (that had been my plan for the evening until picturegate blew up). The boys were obviously aware of what was going on-Deo had bought me Ben and Jerry’s and Willie produced a bottle of wine. Niall wandered in and out of the room on the phone, pulling his hair and raising his voice. His normally animated face was in a scowl so deep that I feared it would be permanent. However the more I got used to the idea of the pictures, the less I found myself caring. If this was going to be real, then eventually we were going to be spotted. It wasn’t my style to live my life in the shadows, and I loved Niall (a fact I still hadn’t actually worked up the ovaries to tell him). People were going to have something to say - I knew that the second I looked up Louis’ girlfriend. But my skin was fairly thick. I’d spent 20 years hating myself, and the past few trying to reverse all those negative emotions. It would take a lot more than nasty people on the internet to drag me back down. Also, I basically had majored in avoidance of real life issues.

I ended up falling asleep alone in Niall’s gigantic bed. I’d gone in for some quiet after the movie and conked out. When I woke up around midnight to use the bathroom, I could hear him talking to his cousins in the living room. I padded down the hallway to try and convince Niall to come to bed, but stopped just as I was about to step into the living room. He sounded wrecked and absolutely unlike himself. Their voices were low enough that I knew instantly they were having an important conversation.  So, like any self-respecting anxiety-prone adult, I eavesdropped.

“There’s no going back after this, ya know?  It’s never gonna be the same.  She things she’s prepared, but…”  He let out a groan and I could hear his body flop back against the couch cushions.  Willie took a deep breath and tried to reassure him.  I knew Willie had my back, but my heart still warmed as he spoke.  “Niall, you’ve gotta trust her a little, son.  Zoe’s tough as nails when she needs to be.  Give her some credit yeah?  She forgave your dumb ass for runnin’ off to the coast and getting your dick wet, I think she can handle some jealous teen girls on the internet.”  I choked down a laugh, making a mental note that I owed Willie a pint or three. Niall let out a deep sigh and I strained closer to hear him clearly.

“Mate, I’m serious.  What the fuck am I gonna do if she runs? I love her, Will. Been in love with her since the night she wore my hat.”

I covered my mouth. We barely knew one another then. Well, he knew way more about me than I did about him. My heart shattered as I realized he didn’t get how strongly I felt about him. Talking about my feelings wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but I clearly I needed to get my head out of my ass and quick. I retreated silently back to his room and crawled under the covers, my mind reeling from the emotional toll of the evening. When Niall finally came to bed, I curled up next to him, silently trying to relay my emotions through my fingertips and onto his skin.  I traced the dark stubble across his jaw, pressing gently into the dimple in his chin.  He squeezed my hip, pulling my body towards him while I continued trailing my hands down his neck and arm.  Drawing in a shaky breath I whispered softly, “It’s going to be ok Ni. We’re going to be ok.”  I felt his body sink into the mattress with relief and without another word he rolled me onto my back and pressed himself along the length of my body. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and we held each other, sharing soft touches and gentle kisses. Propping himself up on his elbows he rested his forehead against mine. “I need ya, Z.” I pressed my lips to his instantly, murmuring a “yes” into his mouth.

We made love slowly, purposefully. I could see in his eyes that there were a million and one things he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. He was trying to confess his feelings to me the only way he knew how. As his thrusts became less precise I could feel myself getting closer to the edge of my release. When I finally came, I called out his name, but it might as well have been a declaration of love the way my heart nearly burst with emotion. As I watched him come undone above me, his face illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the blinds, I knew he was it. He was my forever.

The emotion was still heavy in his room as we recovered from our tryst so I took the opportunity to bring us back to normal by acting like a complete jackass.

“Ni?”

“Yeah, babe.” I was lying on his chest with a leg thrown over his thighs, nuzzling his chest.

“Promise me something?” He tensed a bit, and kissed my forehead.

“Anything.”

“Will you always look at me like I’m the prettiest girl at the party? Sort of like it’s 2014 and I’m Harry Styles?”

There was a beat of complete silence before he looked over at me and rolled his eyes.  “Jesus.  Fucking.  Christ.”  He scoffed and pushed my pillow over my face as I dissolved into giggles. “I’m going to block YouTube on your phone, ya nutter.”

True to my promise to Bas, I did not get online Wednesday or Thursday other than work email. Of course, people found their way into my official inbox, and I had to talk to our IT department about setting up blocks. The subject lines alone were almost amusing in their vitriol, “Fat Cunt Leave Niall Alone!” “Skank” and my personal favorite, “Niall Wouldn’t Suck Your Dick”. Someone needed an anatomy lesson. There were a few photographers outside of the clinic, and Phil, a security guard assigned to Zoe detail (I asked for a cool nickname like the Secret Service use and he shook his head at me) took me out of the backdoor. It could have been better, but it could have sucked more.

I insisted on going to quiz night. This was my routine and my life, and by God, no one was going to stop me. Niall and Bas probably wanted to murder me, but for the most part I’d gone along with their wishes, so they could stand to cut me some slack. I tried hard to ignore all the new faces at the pub, having a feeling they were there just for me. Niall was already there, chatting with Paul and Deo when I arrived. He looked relieved, and I gave him a huge smile. Might as well give the people what they’re asking for, I thought, as I kissed him hello. And gave him an ass grab.

“Thirsty, hmmm?” He murmured in my ear. PDA wasn’t usually my thing, but there’s always an exception to the rule.

“A little,” I conceded. “Waking up next to you in the morning starts my day off on a very different foot than I’m accustomed to.” He smiled against my cheek. I turned to head to the bathroom confident in my feminine charms. Then I ran into the front of Basil, who was carrying three pints to the table. Well, make that two pints since one was dripping down the front of my shirt. Son of a bitch. Niall’s laugh echoed through the bar.

When I returned to the table, several rounds with the hand dryer later, Niall was shoving his phone back into his pocket, and had a smirk on his face that I didn’t trust.

“So help me, you’d best not be ready to make fun of the fact that I reek of yeast and hops.”

“Not at all, petal. Not at all.” That fucking smile. He was up to something. It was one of the first genuine smiles I’d seen from him in two days, though, so I’d let it be. Then I noticed that Paul looked terrified. And Hannah was shaking her head. Curious, I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t look at me. I just walked in, I had nothing to do with it.”

“With what?” I whipped my head to Niall and Paul, and caught Deo trying to hold in a laugh. “What did you do?”

“Please don’t hit me, Z,” Paul begged. Well that pretty much cemented the fact that I was going to want to.

“What.did.you.do.? Paul Anthony Byers, you’d best come clean right now! And remember,” I gestured to a laughing Bas, “I have security now!” I was terrified. And Niall was giggling next to me.

“I didn’t know he didn’t know!” Paul was pleading.

“C’mon, Z. Don’t be so CUMBERsome,” Deo spit out.

“Baby, do you want eggs BENEDICT in the morning?” Niall was officially slapping his knee he was laughing so hard.

I turned to Paul with bugged eyes. “Oh my fucking God, YOU TOLD HIM?” My voice was just shy of screeching.

“He was commenting on how well you were taking his fans wanting to burn you in effigy! I just said it was because you had some firsthand experience with fangirl problems!” Paul tried to hide behind Han, who scooted away. I buried my scorching face on the table.

“So, Cumberbatch, huh?” Niall was cracking up in my ear.

“Shut up. He’s an exemplary actor.”

“So much so that you drove out to Cardiff to watch them film?” Niall had his face propped up on his hand and he was smirking at me wickedly.  It took every ounce of willpower I had not to slap that stupidly gorgeous smirk off his stupidly beautiful face.

Paul took my hesitation as an invitation to humiliate me further.  “On more than one occasion! And waited outside the stage door after a performance of Hamlet.” Paul was ever so helpful. I pointed my finger at him. I think he was confident about that fact that I hadn’t jumped over the table yet. And ever the ham, he realized that Niall was enjoying it, so he added, “The week he announced his engagement she was going to delete her Twitter. He clutched at his heart, and screwed up his face in an unbelievable shitty impression of me.  ‘Paulie, it just hurts too much!’”

There it was. My fangirl shame. I was a Cumberbitch. And my boyfriend, whose face had launched a thousand ships, found it hysterical.

“So I relate to your fans. Sue me,” I sniffed, crossing my arms across my chest.  I looked like a petulant toddler.  With boobs.

“Aw, petal, don’t be like that,” he wrapped his arms around me. “Just tell me you’re not into slash, okay?”

I would not confirm or deny. (Sherlock + Watson = 4eva)

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely 9

Niall dropped me off at the clinic, kissing me sweetly as he parked, then running around the car to open my door to give me another kiss.

“Don’t you have a bum knee? You shouldn’t take corners that quickly. I’ve got it.”

“Jesus, Zoe, just let me be a fucking gentleman.”

“A ‘fucking gentleman’?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah.” He leaned in, brushing his lips to mine. “I want to open your doors and hold your hand, and I don’t want you to give me any shit about it, alright?” His eyes dared me to challenged him, and he had a smirk that I wanted to either smack or kiss off his face. I went with kiss.

“Fine, you neanderthal. Talk to you later?”

“Definitely.”

I stepped away to make my way into the building, giving him a wave.

“Hey Z?”

“Yes, dear?” I turned around, and saw him standing by his car, hands shoved as far as they could go into the pockets of his skinny jeans, with a bright smile on his face.

“A fucking gentleman!” We grinned at each other. He was officially going to be the death of me.

Friday and Saturday we exchanged cute texts back and forth. He’d invited me to join him at a Leon Bridges gig in Camden, but I already had plans. Aaron’s mom, Ruth, my “English mum” was in town, and Paul and I always took her to dinner. Paul was still close to Aaron’s family despite their breakup, so what might have been an awkward moment with all of us at the same table was prevented when Aaron told her I was dating a member of One Direction. She took out her phone and asked which one.

“The blonde. He’s Irish.” I pointed Niall out of the group shot.

“Really? The long hair is much more your type.”

“Don’t know him”, I pointed back at Niall, “But he’s pretty great Ruth. You’ll like him.”

“She’s smitten, Rue. Z has been bitten by the love bug,” Paul gave me a cheesy grin and batted his eyelashes.

“If he’s good to you, Zo, then I’m sure I will adore him,” she rubbed my cheek. “And maybe he can introduce me to the long haired one.”

“Get in, Ruth!” Paul and I were in unison, while Aaron buried his head in his hands. “My mum’s a fuckin’ cougar.”

Saturday night I came out of the Werner Herzog double feature Jess had dragged me to and found a series of missed text messages, each more outlandish and misspelled than the last. Someone had been hitting the sauce.

“Zooooooooeeeeee”

“Did I tell ya your the pretiest girl ?”

“Funniestt to”

“Tatses so good .”

“wana eat u agian”

“Well, aren’t those the messages I want to see when I leave a movie?”

“yay ! zo !”

“Is someone a little drunk?”

“No  Im irish !”

“You’re Irish? Surely you’re kidding.”

“we dont gte drujnk .”

“Okay, baby, then you’re just really Irish right now.”

Three monkey emojis were my response. This kid.

“Where are you?”

“my housie . come overr !”

“I think you need some water and sleep, boo.”

“imma make yhu dinner tommorow nighti ok ?”

“we dan have a sleeop;er !”

“Okay. Call me when you wake up in the morning and we’ll discuss it.”

“Good night, Niall <3”

The next evening on the tube, I reread the messages, laughing to myself. To his credit, he didn’t sound any worse for the wear when he called that morning. He apologized for the messages, and I told him that I was impressed that his spelling got better when he drank. He called me a jerk, then asked what I wanted for dinner. Now as I barreled towards Hertfordshire with an overnight bag, my stomach was filled with butterflies. I was overthinking it, and making myself a nervous wreck. Niall had texted a few minutes ago that Bas, his bodyguard, was going to pick me up at the station - he didn’t want to leave the stove unattended. He was clearly taking this very seriously, and it was adorable.

I knew Basil’s face from various pics on Niall’s IG. He obviously knew mine, b/c he waved me down when I walked out of the station. Damn, spotted. Not being the best with new people, especially not my zillionaire boyfriend’s personal security, I considered turning and catching the next train back to my stop.

Basil was very polite. Irish (because of course), divorced, three kids. We made small talk for a few minutes. When we were stopped, I noticed him side eyeing me. Shit. He’s a professional head buster. Could I get to my pepper spray in time? I’m a ninja, but I was in a moving car with a stranger. See? This is what my brain does to me.

“So,” he started, and I realized I was about to get a speech. I’d seen the same look on my dad’s face a hundred times. Was he really going to ask me what my intentions were with Niall? Because currently it was to make it through an interaction with him without crying or humiliating myself, and to get my rocks off. I’m simple. “I know you and Niall are becoming close,” Basil looked about as uncomfortable as I’m sure I did, “um...do ya understand that that means?”

Condoms? Was he going to give me the safe sex lecture? I’m 27 years old and I can’t keep a plant alive. I think we’re good. I’ve taken the pill for a decade and given Niall’s  recent activities I was going to need to see a clean bill of health before I would ever consider letting him hit it raw. Though the thought of that...mmmm. Clench.

My look of confusion was evident, and Basil sighed. “His life isn’t the easiest for keepin’ a girl around. You’re not just dating some ordinary lad, Zoe. People watch everything he does. The boy can’t take a shit without it ending up on Twitter - time, location, and size. You’re going to be looked at, too. Nialler having a girlfriend is going to be news. You’re going to get called a lot of nasty things. You’ve got to think about if that’s somethin’ you’re willing to deal with. It won’t be pretty.”

That’s a lot to take in. I was stunned quiet for once in my life. I knew I couldn’t grasp the scope of Niall’s fame - I’d never seen him perform, and my knowledge of the band was limited to what I’d found in a few Google searches. I’d scoured through a few update accounts, but had never really looked at comments or anything else.

“I know you have a public Twitter... you’re pretty funny,” Bas continued. “But you might want to consider deleting or making it private before any news of the two of you gets out. How secure are your other accounts? I take Niall’s safety very importantly. Pics of him out and about in real time can cause crowds to line up. Passing references to him can, and will, be scrutinized by a slew of people. It’s a whole new ballgame.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” I felt like a kettlebell was on my chest.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Zoe. I want you to be prepared. My job is to protect Niall. And if you’re with him, you, too. I need to know we’re on the same team.  And even more than that...” he hesitated and I could see him considering his words carefully.  “He’s like family to me.  He likes you and I don’t want to see him get hurt if you decide his life is too much to deal with.  Best to think it all through yeah?”

I nodded carefully, looking Basil straight in the eye.  I wanted him to know I was taking him seriously.  “Yeah, I get it.” Basil hit a remote similar to a garage door opener, and the gate to Niall’s house opened and we parked.

“There’s one more thing before you go in.” Now he looked really uncomfortable. Somehow I don’t think Niall was aware of this conversation and wouldn’t appreciate that it was going on, but I liked Basil’s honesty and understood his motivation. I, too, had a strong desire, for whatever reason, to protect Niall. It was somehow twisted together with my desire to fuck him in to the next century, and my desire to tuck him into bed and make him cookies. He reached into a folder tucked between his seat and the console, “I’d like you to take a look at this non-disclosure agreement. Basically says that you won’t discuss anything that happens between you and Niall, you won’t go to the media, and the like.”

I had my body turned to face him, and didn’t see the pretty blonde head approaching the car until after he rapped on the window behind me, causing me to scream and jump. “What the hell you two doin’ out here? Z, he’s practically a married man. You can’t wile him with your charms.” Niall’s cocky smirk slipped from his face when he saw my expression and the papers in my hands. He opened the car door and took them from me, glaring at Bas. “I thought I told you no on this.”  His voice was low and his eyes flashed with anger and embarrassment.

Basil started to answer and I interrupted him. “Niall, he’s just trying to protect you. That’s what you pay him for.” I snatched the papers from his hands and smacked his head with them. Spying a pen in the cupholder of Basil’s SUV, I signed my name on the last page, and initialed each page. Behind me, Niall was complaining and repeating that I didn’t need to sign them, he trusted me. I handed them to Bas and he mouthed a ‘thank you’ and a ‘sorry’ at me. I gave him a thumbs up and asked him to email me a copy of the form I’d signed. Probably not the greatest idea to sign without reading it, but seriously, I wasn’t going to go to the press. And if Niall has a secret penchant for wearing women’s panties or sticking sharpies up his ass, that’s his own problem. I grabbed the elbow of my boy, who was still arguing with a pretty silent Bas, and guided him away from the car. He looked utterly perturbed as we ventured into the house and then into the kitchen. There was a pot boiling on the stove and the smell of something baking drifted through the air.

“What’s the smell?” It was divine, whatever it was.

“My aunt’s peanut butter brownies. I called her for the recipe.” He still looked pissed as he stirred the pot. My heart kind of warmed as I hopped onto the counter, seeing the heat from the grill rising outside.

“Brownies? Recipe? You don’t like sweets!” I can not adequately express how weird I found this. Sugar is life.

“No, but you do. And you love peanut butter,” he reminded me, finally giving me a half smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I swung my short legs, arching my back just enough so I could trap him with my feet on his hips and nudge him closer to me. He scooted in between my knees and I wrapped my arms around his neck, looking down into his eyes.

“I wanted to do somethin’ special for you,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ Bas had to fuck it up. I knew I should have picked you up myself.”

“Niall, stop. He didn’t screw anything up. He was just honest with me. He wants what’s best for you. And so do I. It’s going to be a new situation for me, and I have to be prepared.”

“Yeah, but I was going to talk to you about it first. I’m tired of people trying to manage my personal life as well. I can take care of myself and I can take care of you.” It was obvious this was something that he’d thought about, and was offended that Bas or anyone else might mess with his plans. I knew Niall was smart, and he was obviously savvy with his career and business opportunities just from our conversations about his various ventures and philanthropy.

“Well, so far you’re doing a bang of job of taking care of me. Peanut butter brownies, a grill heating up for something, and do I spy potatoes in that pot? Niall Horan, you’re trying to lower my defenses, and I have to tell you, it’s working.” Trying to change the subject, I finally gave him a hello kiss, pressing my lips to his soft pink ones. Running my fingers through his hair, I touched his temples and massaged in soft circles, trying to melt away some of his stress. When we broke away, he rested his face in the crook of my neck as I gave him a tight squeeze.

“I’m scared it’s all going to run you off,” he admitted. “My life is fuckin’ insane.”

“I gathered that. And we will need to figure out some things. But let’s not right now. Know I’m not going to let it run me off. Have you seen how stubborn I am? Please.” I poked him in the side softly, and raised my eyebrows at him as he pulled away.

“I’m going to do right by you, Zoe. I promise.” The sincere look on his face was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I touched my forehead to his and pecked his lips. “I know.”

After he’d stuffed me with his perfectly grilled steaks (“I can do meat, baby. My dad’s a butcher.” and then listened to my peals of laughter), mashed potatoes (he was pulling out the big guns), salad, and let me teach him how to taste wine with a banging bottle of shiraz that he admitted he’d asked someone at the store about (then he got a Stella out of the fridge, leaving me to conquer the bottle alone), we cuddled on the sofa. Brownies were going to have to wait until I had some room.

“Where are the boys?” I groaned, realizing I hadn’t seen Deo or Willie all evening.

“Told ‘em to get lost,” Niall was working my hair out of its loose braid, running his fingers against my scalp. My head was on his thighs, and I was staring up at his face. I was blissfully happy and had a dopey smile on my face that he returned.

“So Niall Horan’s Home for Wayward Irishmen is empty except us? Is it my birthday?” I teased him, touching his handsome face.

“Smartass,” he nipped at one of my fingers, then pulled it into his mouth to suck on gently. I felt that in my pants. My lips fell open into an “O” as he caressed the digit with his tongue, and I was flashing back to him at the foot of my bed, licking me back to front. I crossed my legs over one another down the length of the couch, and he let out a snort.

“Getting a little turned on?” He kissed the finger and moved his hand to trail down my trunk, sliding under the hem of my shirt. My nipples pebbled as he ran his hand all over my stomach, tracing softly. He knew he had me as the goosebumps popped out.

“Nope.” I turned my face a bit so it was angled towards his body, and observed the action going on in his jeans. I could see a bulge forming. “But I think you are.” To prove my point, I ran a finger along the seam of his pants, and felt him suck in a breath.

“Maybe just a little,” he admitted, lifting my head so he could swing his legs onto the sofa and lie down, hovering over top of me. The kiss he gave me started off sweet, with gentle licks, and gradually turned more intense resulting in me sucking on his tongue as he moaned and his dick pressed into my stomach. This may well be a very fun night.

“If that’s just a little…” I realized I’d not actually seen him bare yet, and decided I was going to remedy that.

He raised his head and smirked at me. Jerk. I reached under his arms and tickled him, delighting in his loud laugh. “Don’t you dare get cocky on me, mister. Dare I remin-” His mouth covered mine, and he pressed his weight on me. Holy god, he could kiss. I wrapped my legs around his tiny waist, locking my ankles to hold him in place as I started to unbutton his shirt. He leaned down to kiss my earlobe, sucking gently. Then he started to whisper, “Zo, I wan-...” He didn’t get to finish though, as I busted out laughing.

“Tickles!” I pulled both my shoulders up towards my ears as he looked down on me, a confused face turning into a happy one.

“Oh yeah, does that tickle ya?” He wedged his face between my ear and shoulder, doing it again as I shivered and laughed like a hyena. “Stop!”

“You’re so fucking ticklish,” he said, grinning at me. “This is fun.” He stuck his fingers into my underarms and blew a raspberry on my neck as I screamed in laughter. I shimmied out from under him, landing on my butt on the floor.

“I hate you, Horan!” I was still giggling as he came at me with his fingers, wiggling them. I hopped up and ran down the hall, him hot on my heels.

“I’m gonna get you, Z!” He was making monster noises while laughing, and I was losing my breath from laughing. I ran into his bedroom and tried to shut the door, but he wedged in, grabbing my hip and digging his fingers in.

“Niall, I’m going to pee!” I tried to threaten him, but he grinned even bigger. “I don’t think that’s the wetness you’re feeling, love.” We tumbled back onto the bed, breathing hard and cracking up. I ran my hands up his arms as he rolled over on top of me. Both of us were panting, but I’m not sure it was the tickle fight anymore. The kiss he laid on me was deep and full of tongue. The volume of my moans surprised even me, and I needed him out of his shirt. And his pants. And in me. Right that second.

“I want you,” my whisper was so soft that it took him a second to process. I opened my eyes to catch an expression of amazement on his face that turned into a soft smile.

“I want you so bad I can’t stand it, Z,” he said.

“Then come on.” I pulled his shirt from him and worked my hands down to the button on his jeans. Carefully I worked the zipper over his erection, and reached in to rub it. He was so thick that I gasped a little, and felt my body grow even more excited.

“Like that, huh?” He nosed against my ear, his hands firmly attached to my breasts.

“Shut up.” I gave him a grin and he laughed softly. I don’t think I was ever going to allow him to not have some part of my body on his cock. He could pick - hand, tongue, dealer’s choice.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

“Know what would feel even better?”

“Your pussy?” He licked into my ear as he said it, and while that wasn’t my favorite word in the world, I shook softly. “Let me take these clothes off you, baby.” In less than 20 seconds he’d sat up and freed me of all my clothing - the boy was good. He also removed his own jeans and boxers for good measure. If possible, he looked even better than he felt. He stood up at the end of the bed and palmed his twitching length.  This was the first time we were both naked with each other and the air in the room was thick with anticipation. I didn’t want to be a total creeper and stare at his dick - but honestly it was like staring into the sun.  It was thick, and long and ended at a base of dark hair.  Carpet doesn’t match the drapes - I knew it.  I wanted to weep with joy and thank the heavens above.  Honestly, either of those would’ve been better than what actually happened.  “Remind me to thank your parents.”  Oh my fuck. What did I just do?  

Niall tilted his head and stared at me.  I could feel the fully body blush creep over my panicked face.  “I can honestly say I’ve never had that reaction to my dick before, Z”. I took him not kicking me out of his bed as a good sign, and tried to save face.

“Well Horan, I just appreciate good genetics when I see them.”  Niall shook his head and laughed.  “What am I gonna do with you, baby girl?”  I opened my mouth to give him a smart ass response but when I saw the look on his face my words stuck in my throat.  He was looking at me like he knew exactly what he wanted to do to me.  Count me the fuck in.

I pushed back up the bed a bit to give him room to crawl over me. He trailed kisses up my leg, with his long fingers skimming over my other leg.  He reached my chest and  lavished attention on my breasts like a man on a mission.  He nipped, and sucked, and groaned into my skin.  I could feel his cock pressing into my thigh, already leaking from how turned on he was. I was mewling for him so desperately I probably sounded like a shitty porn star. He reached over to retrieve a condom from the nightstand, tearing the wrapper open.  Despite my haze of arousal I didn’t fail to miss the trembling in his fingers. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his tip, helping him roll the condom down his length.I bit my lip as he looked at me. He pinched my chin softly releasing my lip from my mouth and pressed his lips down on top of it, kissing away the bite. It was so sweet and gentle.

He settled himself between my thighs, propped up on his forearms.  The tip of his cock settled between my lips, teasing my entrance.  He kissed me sweetly and wound his fingers through my hair that had fanned out on the pillow.  I could feel the rough scratch of his chest hair across my breasts as he took a few deep breaths.  “Ready?” He whispered softly, and I nodded back at him. He pushed in, and I let out a little groan as my body stretched to accommodate him. So thick. So good. I looked into his eyes and we both let out a little sigh of relief and grinned.

“Still for a sec?” I wanted to just feel him for a few moments.

“Yeah.” He moved a piece of hair off my face and leaned down on his elbows, kissing me. “Ya feel fuckin’ amazing. Better than I imagined.”

“You imagine it a lot?” I nudged my hips, giving him permission to move.

“Every day since I met you,” he admitted, pushing in and out, groaning a little.

“That’s a lot of expectations to live up to.”

“You’re exceeding them.”

“I am an overachiev-oooo!” He changed the angle of his hips to hit my g-spot and I shook. His smile told me that he knew that was the place.

“Like that? Right there?” I giggled and a let out a moan at the same time. His smile was so goddamn bright, like he’d won the lottery. No one had ever looked this happy to be buried so deep in me, and the enthusiasm was catching. I caressed his shoulders and wrapped my leg around the back of his thigh to pull him closer.

“See? You’re going to get off again without using your hands.” I bit on his earlobe and we both started laughing.

The giggles continued, interrupted by moans and dirty words. It was, hands down, the most enjoyable sex I’ve ever had. Not just the fucking, which was excellent (kudos to the women before me who had taught him so many outstanding tricks), but also the companionship. I’d never had someone check on me, watch me so closely, and respond to everything I did or said. It was fun. As my body started to come apart with my orgasm, Niall slowed his thrusts to help me ride it out.  “So fuckin’ beautiful Zo.  God, I wanna make you feel like this all the time. Your body is insane. You feel amazing.”  I clawed at his shoulders, trying to to find room in my pleasure-addled brain to store his words forever.  “Niall, you made me come so hard.  Oh my god I think your dick might be magic. Come, baby. Please. I need it.” His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth went slack as his hips stilled against me. He panted out my name over and over and I could feel him empty into the condom with a few twitches against my overly-sensitive walls. We laid still for a few minutes, still connected and traded soft caresses and gently kisses until he started to soften in me.  He rolled off and got up to discard the condom in the bin. I could not resist the opportunity to pinch his little peach bum. He squealed like a child and I fell back laughing.

By the time we were cleaned up, I was pretty sure I was in love. Then he went to the kitchen and got me a brownie and a glass of milk. I was positive. Zoe loved Niall.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 8

When my alarm went off, I promptly let out a litany of swear words. Niall, to his credit, didn’t even move. All those years of sleeping around commotion had obviously rendered him with the ability to be dead to the world. I hit snooze and assessed the situation. He was on the other side of the bed, lying on his stomach with his head facing me. I was at a weird angle with my head at the top corner, and my body going diagonally with my feet curled under his waist. Everyone I’d ever shared a bed with had the same complaint - I simply moved too much in my sleep. And I kick. Hard. Apparently I don’t play well with others.  He hadn’t abandoned the bed for the sofa though, so I took that as a win.

I tried to fall back asleep but it was useless. So instead I texted my boss and our admin that I wouldn’t be in this morning. My hand was too swollen to do much, and I’d just had office time scheduled. I could go in later in the afternoon for a consultation I didn’t want to cancel. I played on my phone a bit, and then allowed myself a few minutes to watch him sleep. He really was lovely to look at, his cheeks stained a little red, lips sweet and pink (I’d noticed his upper lip disappeared when he smiled a big smile and it made my heart swell), light lashes resting on his cheek. His hair was messy (and way more blonde that it reasonably should be - we’d need to work on that). I reached over and moved a piece off his forehead. It wasn’t offensive, but it was an excuse to touch him. I was ri-goddamn-diculous.

Opting to quit molesting the unconscious man in my bed, I took a long shower (a luxury usually reserved for the weekend), successfully draining my hot water tank. When I dressed in a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt (I did put on a bra-a pretty one, at that, so that was as fancy as he was getting), I parked it on the couch with a notebook, Grandma B’s quilt that I had successfully wiggled out from under Niall, and a cup of coffee. We needed to have a talk, and I knew I would get flustered and forget half my points. I needed to make notes.

An hour later I had a page and a half of notes and points I wanted to make when I spoke to him. And I was getting bored. I’d stood in the doorway twice, watching him sleep. And downed another cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Nothing on Netflix was appealing and I couldn’t make myself read more than a sentence of my book. I was antsy and I needed to get this over with. He was just going to have to wake up.

I decided it would be sweet to take him a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I had nothing except Cap’n Crunch, though, and I didn’t think he drank anything besides beer and water. And occasionally gin and tonic (thanks, FaceTime). I could take him a Harp and a piece of toast, but that’s not even a breakfast fit for the Irish. Or is it? Oh well, it’d have to do.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” I put on my sweetest Pollyanna singsong voice and waltzed into the room, carrying the plate and bottle (and one of water, too, so I didn’t look completely savage) with my notebook tucked under my arm. He groaned and pulled the blankets up over his head as I adjusted myself on the bed beside him. And poked.

“Niall, sweet boy, honey bear, sugar pie, I made you breakfast in bed,” I had put my mouth by his ear and purred. This got his attention and he opened his eyes, giving me a sleepy smile.

“Breakfast?” He sat up a bit.

“Mmm-hmm. Just for you.” That smile was radiant. It’s a shame I was fucking with him, really. I would have gone to the shops and gotten eggs if I knew this what he’d hit me with. And the kiss he laid on me before I could even hand him the food was more than I expected at 10 am on a Friday. Shit, even his morning breath was enchanting.

“Well,” I handed him the plate and reached back to retrieve that bottles I’d placed on the nightstand, “that was far nicer than I deserve.”

Okay, I wouldn’t have gone to the shops because the look on his face was priceless. He stared at the plate, the beer, and then at me, his eyes wide and questioning and mouth slightly agape.

“Um, toast? And beer? Uh, thanks, babe.” To his credit, he took a bite of the toast as I burst out laughing.

“Oh thank fuck. I was afraid this was serious. Though I should be pissed ya woke me up,” he grinned at me grabbing my waist and pulling me close for a crumbly kiss. “I’m not sayin’ I’ve never had a beer this early in the mornin’, but…”

“C’mon, I’d at least give you a bloody Mary so you’d get some nutrients,” I assured him. “Sadly, my breakfast food stash is slim. I usually grab something on the way to work or eat peanut butter from the jar when I get to the office.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

“Yeah?” I looked down and brushed invisible lint off the comforter. Deep breath.

“Okay. I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night and I want to talk.” There, I said it. No use in beating around the bush (and me losing my nerve).  His eyes got a little rounder as his hand reached to his hair and he nodded, swallowing. I handed him the water bottle and he gave me a little nervous smile. He fiddled with the cap while he was drinking, and it struck me how fidgety he was. All the time. The boy couldn’t sit still.

“So I’m going to talk and I want you to listen,” I sat up straight and held my notebook in my lap. “Put on a shirt first so I don’t get distracted, okay?” As he went over to retrieve his shirt from its spot in the corner, I wrapped my legs into a pretzel (or crisscross applesauce, as I’d say at work). He climbed back into bed and leaned against the pillows. He was trying to look casual, I knew, but his whole body was tense. And one hand was twisting his hair while the other went to his mouth, gnawing at his fingers.

“Yeah. Okay. Yep.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t the only one in this bed with nervous tics. I looked down at the papers and started the verbal vomit. “Let me talk and get all this out first.” Shit, I’d already said that, hadn’t I?

“I will, Z. Promise.” His poor fingers were so red.

“So, I like you, too. Probably more than I want to admit to anyone, especially you, which I just fucking did -  oh Jesus Christ.” That was not the intro I’d planned. And I was talking so fast. Must soldier on. “So I like you, but I don’t need you, Niall, or any guy, really. And I want you to keep that in mind. I have my life together, for the most part. I have a good job, a savings account, um, a vibrator, and great friends. I’ve made a life of my own in a foreign city, and I’m proud of that. I’m pretty happy despite my spazz.” Exhale. “A dude is an accessory for me. A handbag.” This is where I looked down at my notes. “A bag is nice to have, convenient, and usually makes things easier, but I don’t necessarily need it. I can put my money and phone in my pockets. It’s not the ideal situation, but it works, and works well. You’re like a Birkin - a really fucking awesome, coveted purse that is frankly out of my budget, but you’re still a bag. And I can live without you.” By this point I had a tears in my eyes, but I had to keep going. “That ghosting shit? That was unacceptable. I put myself out there with you, and you just goddamn disappeared on me. Willie told you right - I was so fucking hurt and confused. And it brought back a lot of insecurities that I thought were long gone. And I hated that. I hated you for doing that to me.” I lifted my eyes, and found his trained on me. He positively looked like he was going to vomit, and I wondered if anyone, specifically a woman, had ever just laid it out for him? “I’m too old to play bullshit games, Niall. If you like me, then you need to get your shit together and act like it. As far as that girl goes, well, who you fuck is your business. But if you think you’re going to do that again if we try this and I’m going to deal with it, you’re wrong. You’re a grown ass man and you need to take responsibility for your actions, I don’t care what your excuse is, your mom, LA, touring, being drunk, whatever. I will cut you out of my life completely and it will be done.  It took me a long time to love myself Niall.  I’m not disposable.”

Having said my peace, I collapsed back against the headboard. He stared at a point on the opposite wall, seemingly unblinking while he went to work chewing at his other hand. The ball was in his court now. The silence was excruciating and I started biting at my own nails, a habit I had successfully broken in college (after seeing a nail under a microscope, I had literally wretched). I started wondering if I said too much, but then reminded myself that if he was bothered by my truthfulness (because everything I’d said was accurate) then he could piss off. “You’re right,” he finally croaked out. I kept looking at my hand, even though I could feel his gaze on me. “I need to own what I did. And I swear to ya, Z, I’ll never do that again. Hurting you wrecked me. But it made me realize what a fuckin wanker I was, and how much I care about you.” At this point, he’d stood up and was pacing the room, again with his hand in his hair, twisting the bits half to death. “You having your shit together and not needing anyone is part of what attracted me to ya in the first place. You’re real and you work hard. And you don’t just see my name or try to act a certain way to impress me. You’re just you.” Did he not realize I couldn’t be someone else if I tried? I was who I was. I’d tried when I was younger time and time again to reinvent myself, but I always ended up coming back to me.    

“I know I don’t know what I’m doin’. And you don’t need me. But we like each other. A lot, uh, at least I should say I do. But I’m gonna fuck up. I’m pretty stupid sometimes. But I’ll try my hardest to be the guy you deserve.” He paused in front of where I sat and looked at me. I let his words roll around in my head for a moment before nodding once.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He sat down next to my feet and we both let out massive signs. We spent the rest of the morning hanging out. He ended up drinking the beer I’d brought in for breakfast to ‘calm his nerves’. We were stiff and kinda formal with one another, this major thing hanging over our heads. Then I...well, I farted. Loudly. My face burned red and when I dared look over he was absolutely shaking in laughter, biting his lips not to bust out. And I lost it (because shit...shit). For once my ass actually made a situation better.

“Oh my god. That had bass. What did you eat?”

“I have very sensitive stomach. And I had a burrito for lunch yesterday.”

“That was fuckin’ legendary.”

“Well, at least we got that out of the way. The first time we FaceTimed I had to poop literally the whole time. It took everything in my power to hold it in.” He was hysterical, his head tossed back and eyes squished up in a classic belly laugh.

After, ahem, breaking the ice the tension lifted and we got back to normal.  The only action that happened was pretty PG - a few kisses, hand holding, and once in a decidedly  hot move, he smacked my ass when I stood up. I think by my jump he knew that I liked it, and the shit eating grin I received did nothing to stop the thumping of my heart.

“Ya sure you have to go to work?” He was sitting on the floor in the hallway, talking to me as I put on my makeup, tossing a pair of balled up socks he found in the air and catching them.

“Yeah. This family is coming all the way from Birmingham for a second consult. I don’t do a lot of appointments on Fridays, especially this late in the day, but it’s a favor for a friend. I want to see him tired since he’s having particular issues at night. I saw him during the day last time and he was brilliant. I need to get a look at the real problems.” The last bit was garbled as I opened my mouth wide to apply my mascara.

“I like when you talk about your job.”

“Really?”

“You get excited. It obvious you love what you do.”

“Yeah. Some days suck, but that’s with anything, right? Not always going to be sunshine and roses.”

He leaned back, his weight on his hands behind him. God, he looked hot. I really would like to skip the office and climb onto his lap for a few rounds, but duty called. And I promised myself that I wasn’t going to give it up yet (I didn’t really believe that, either).

“I watched concert footage after I met you. It’s pretty obvious you love what you do, as well,” I nudged him with my foot so I could walk back to my room. “But I don’t know how much you love playing the guitar, really.”

He looked like I had personally insulted his grandmother as he stood up to follow me in. “What? I fucking love the gui-.”

“I think it’s just something for you to do to keep your hands occupied.” I pulled a sweater out of the closet and turned around, giving him an evil grin. “If you didn’t have that, your hands would be bloody from all your nomming. And your dick raw from the chronic masturbation.”

He laughed. “Probably. Can’t imagine pulling off more than I do now, though.”

“Gah! My ears!” I pulled off my t-shirt and threw it at his head. He caught it and openly leered.

“Gonna think of those next time I do.”

“Hey, you might not even have to use your hands!” I mimicked humping and ducked as the t-shirt came back at me.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Bechtel.”

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 7

We laid on the couch for another hour or so, touching one another and necking. When I explained that term to him as a synonym for making out, he started blowing raspberries into my neck, causing me to simultaneously launch into a giggle fit and get so turned on that I couldn’t see straight. He knew exactly what he was doing, as he traced his hand over my clothed nipple. Two layers of fabric couldn’t hide my excitement, and I bit down on his lower lip, nibbling on it as I pressed my chest into his hand.

“Bedroom?” He asked, running his nose down the slope of my neck. “Damn, you smell good.”

“Yeah. Bedroom.” My mind was filled with a lust I’d never encountered, and I wanted him in every way I could get him. He pulled me up, kissing my mouth, and gestured for me to lead the way. He fell in behind me for the twelve steps into the other room, his hands grabbing my hips and his mouth panting on the back of my neck. I could not have felt any sexier or more desired at that moment, even with my gimp hand. He did something to me that no one else ever had.

I didn’t even get the light on before we were on my bed, laughing and moaning at the same time. His shirt went flying across the room, quickly joined by mine and my bra. He raised off me for a moment, and fumbled around. I figured he was going for his belt, so I reached down to work on my own. When the lamp on my nightstand flipped on, I blinked, confused and momentarily blinded.

“Light? Why?” I nearly choked on my words when I caught sight of him.  Oh wow, he was gorgeous shirtless. The thick brown hair on his chest was begging for me to do naughty things to it. And I felt a visceral need to sink my teeth into his tiny, pink nipples.   

His eyes were locked on my body, like it would physically pain him to look away.  “Wanna see you. Wanted to see your tits the night I met you. Before then even. Christ, Z. They’re fucking gorgeous.”

I almost wanted to cover them, slightly unnerved by his gaze. Most guys liked big boobs and mine received a fair amount of attention. But, my breasts were one of the areas of my body I hated the most - they’d come in at once when I was 15, big and the opposite of perky. It took miracles of modern engineering and physics to make them look presentable most days. I’d long joked about a reduction, but had neither scraped together the money nor vacation time necessary to get one done. And here he was admiring them. I could imagine that this is what wanton felt like. In a moment of sheer bravery, I pushed them together with my upper arms, arching my back again. His face lit up even more, and he fell into my chest, kissing and nibbling away. Even if the feeling wasn’t amazing (and God, it was), the noises he made would have had climbing the walls. When he asked, eyes heavy with craving, if he could taste me, who was I to say no (actually, I just thrusted my pelvis and yelled yes)?

The next half an hour or so was the most intense of my life. Seriously, his mouth should win awards - it had more than just a pretty voice going for it. He edged me multiple times and ate like he was starving, then would return to soft kitten licks. My throat was dry and sore from the panting, and he just kept going. He seemed to have a photographic memory for what I liked. When I finished, locking my thighs together so he would quit torturing me, I reached down to pull him up to me, kissing his mouth with enough tongue to make Gene Simmons jealous. I wanted to return the favor. Badly.

“Can I? Please?” I slid my hand down towards his white Calvins, dying to slip my hand in and feel. Imagine my shock when he caught my hand and scooted away.

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to.”

What the fuck? What guy turns down head?

“Niall, I know I don’t have to. I really want to, though. Please.” My pout was exaggerated to maximum size and I rubbed my chest against his. Pulling out all the stops.

“Really, Zo, it’s good. I’m okay.” I finally tore my face away from his and looked at his crotch. No movement. Huh? Going down on me didn’t turn him on even a little? My God, I showered this morning. And he seemed really into it while he was doing it. He was making all sorts of noises and muttering about being hot. By instinct, I pulled away a bit, sure I had done something to render a virile 22 year old man flaccid, and my face filling with horror.

“God, was it bad? Did you hate i-”

“NO, ZOE.” He groaned in frustration, pulling a pillow over his head and said something into it. I pulled the pillow away, and he sat up, gesturing to his crotch. “I fucking came in my pants, okay? Right before you finished. Couldn’t fucking help it. I’m like a fucking 14 year old.” He reclaimed the pillow from my hand and buried his face in it again. While still horny, I was kind of amazed. And had questions.

“But your hands were, um...occupied. With me. You weren’t jerking off.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“But how did you…?”

“Do we have to discuss this? I’m mortified.” He must have sensed me staring at him, because he sighed. “I was rubbing against the blankets. It felt good, and ya tasted so damn good, and fuck, you make amazing noises. And say the nastiest stuff.” Okay, last bit was totally true. I was a fan of the naughty dialogue.

“I toned it down tonight. Was afraid I’d scare you.”

“Christ, don’t tell me that.” He let out one of his strangled noises and I couldn’t help it. “Seriously. I was 14 the last time I did this shit.” I started laughing.

“You’re not helping, Zoe, uh...Fuck, I don’t know your middle name.”

“Jane. And I know, but you’re so adorable that I can’t stand it.” I leaned over and started kissing all over his face. He relented and allowed this, pecking me back a few times.

“Fine, Zoe Jane Bechtel. You aren’t helping. But you’re cute doing it.” I smacked a loud kiss square on his mouth.

“Do you need to clean up?” I pointed down. “You can borrow some sweat pants or something to sleep in. Or go commando. I’m okay with that.”

“Yeah.” He rolled off the bed, and walked like he’d been on a horse too long. I can only imagine that it felt weird and slimy. And I started giggling.

“This stays in this room. You tell no one. Promise?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sunshine.” He gave me the finger and I fell back against the pillows, grinning. I was strangely proud that I’d made him come undone without actually having to do anything.

I’d curled up into a happy ball when Niall came back from the bathroom.

“Threw that washcloth in the hamper. Um, wrapped it up in the towel so you don’t have to um, touch it when you do clothes.”

I nodded, biting my lips to keep from laughing out loud.

“Go ahead, I know you’re dying to laugh.”

“Am not.”

“Liar.” He’d pulled the blankets back to crawl under, scooting close to me, and tucking me in, dragging his nose down my cheek. I realized too late that he was rendering me defenseless for his incoming tickle attack. He dug his fingers into my sides and under my arms, and I howled, trying to get away from him.

“Not fair! Not fucking fair, you ass.” I was out of breath and had elbowed him in the chest to finally make my escape, scurrying off the bed.

“Just thought I’d give you something to laugh at,” he said cockily, rubbing the spot where I’d assaulted him. “Luckily you don’t elbow as hard as you punch.”

I pursed my lips at him with my hands on my hips, and he grinned back. The covers were yanked back again, and there he was, on display in only my sweatpants. He watched my eyes take him in, and relaxed into a classic Playgirl pose. I bent to pick my pillow off the floor and threw it at him as he busted out laughing. I turned out the bedside lamp and settled back down in my usual space, my back to Niall.

“Gonna be like that, huh?”

“Hmph.” I knew he could hear the smile in my grunt.

“Okay.” He maneuvered closer, pressing his chest against my back. “I like being the big spoon.” Who was I to deny him? I cuddled closer, adjusting my hips so they rubbed against his. We were quiet for the first time that didn’t involve swapping body fluids that night. I ran my fingers up and down his forearm, petting the curly hairs. It felt like a perfect moment as his lips ran across my shoulder. Way to jinx myself.

A few minutes later, he whispered, “Zoe, are you asleep?”

I shook my head, slightly annoyed that he was breaking the silence. It had felt so comfortable and my eyes had been getting heavy.

“So I need to tell you somethin’.” I noticed his body had gotten tense, and he’d removed his hand from my chest. I rolled onto my back and he was staring at me. From the moonlight coming in through the partially open blinds, it was obvious he was pensive and chewing on his thumb nail. This ain’t gonna be good.

“Okayyyy.” (Please God, let it be an evil twin or that he secretly is a Nickelback fan. Those things I can deal with. Okay, maybe not Nickelback.) I bit on my own lip as he struggled, sitting up a bit more, leaning on his elbow. “Niall, what’s up? You’re freaking me out.”

“When I’m in LA I do dumb shit, right?” Oh I do not like the direction this was going. “I party too much and basically just fuck around. It’s a free for all.” He exhaled deeply and began pulling at the blond tips of his hair., I felt my stomach drop to my feet. “So there’s this girl…”

No. NO. NO. Pull yourself together, Zoe. I blinked about ten times and willed him to continue, to put me out of my misery.  I could feel my entire body start to buzz with adrenaline, my fight or flight response gearing up for battle. “Yes?”

He’d moved from his thumb to his pointer finger. There’d be no skin left on them if it kept up at this pace. I pulled his hand away from his mouth, and kissed it softly. I had no idea why. I was too fond of him to watch him hurt himself, I guess. The noise he made in response sounded so pained that it almost hurt me inside.

“Fuck. FUCK. Don’t be nice to me, Z. Seriously.” Okay, yeah, this bombshell, that I knew, I KNEW was on the tip of his tongue was going to slam me like a motherfucker. “I slept with her.” Yep, I was right. That was a blow to my heart. I instantly went into self-protection mode, rolling back to my side, pulling Grandma B’s quilt over me. “I don’t know why I did it. I thought it was out of habit, but I felt like shit the next day, Z. Like I was the absolute biggest dickhead on Earth. I’d spent the whole mornin’ before talking to you, and I told you that I liked you. I haven’t told someone that in a long time.” I laid perfectly still, while silent tears poured down my cheeks. I desperately tried to control my breathing so he wouldn’t know I was crying. “I think Willie is right, I’m fuckin’ scared. That’s why I got quiet. It was nothin’ you did. I was ashamed of myself. You deserve better than someone who can’t get their shit together.” He wasn’t wrong - I did deserve way better than that.

A sniffle escaped, much to my disgust, and he touched my arm. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted...I wanted you to know, and I wanted to be the person that told you. I didn’t want to keep something from you. After tonight, especially.” He paused for several seconds, seemingly weighing his next comment in his head. “Been one of the best nights of my life.” His accent was thick, and his voice low. His finger kept rubbing up and down my arm, tracing designs. I didn’t shake him off or ask him to not touch me. I needed to reconcile all of this.

“I know Willie told you ‘bout my Mam. He didn’t come up with that theory on his own. He used to date this girl, Ashley, who was tryin’ to be a psychologist. She liked to tell us everything that was wrong with us. She told me I had mammy issues and that’s why I am shite with girls. I guess Willie remembered that. Said I don’t know how to trust a woman because of Maura. And that I hurt them before they can hurt me, and that I run when someone gets too close. I don’t know if he’s right ‘bout all that, but I don’t know that he’s wrong. I freaked the fuck out. I was bein’ serious before when I told you that you scare me. You’re something special and I don’t know what to do with myself.” I think the quiet and tension were too much for him. He just kept talking to fill the air. “Deo about knocked the shit out of me when he saw her leave the next morning. Called me a fuckin’ idiot wanker.”

“Team Deo,” I whispered, deciding to hug the little turd next that I saw him.

“Yeah, you’ve got both my cousins on your side.” He let out a dry chuckle, now using his full hand to caress my back. “Willie called me up a few days later and laid into me good. Told me that I was fucking up things with you because I couldn’t pull my head out of my arse. Said that Hannah said you were hurtin’ and confused. That she told you to leave me alone. I called you when I got off the phone with him and you sent me to voicemail. That fuckin’ terrified me. Oh, and she said she was going to cut my balls off. She didn’t even know about the girl! I’m fuckin’ petrified of her.”

That’s my bestie. I can only imagine the shit Willie had gotten from Hannah. She was loyal to a fault. And we both had momma bear personalities - willing to take someone out for our cubs. She wasn’t above taking Niall’s sins out on Willie.    

“Okay.” That was pretty much the only thing I could verbalize. My mind was foggy. “Thank you for telling me.” My voice was scratchy and full of emotion. We weren’t together, neither then or now. He could fuck whomever he pleased. Why did my heart feel like it had been yanked out of my chest? I needed a few moments alone. I pulled myself out of bed and whispered, “Bathroom.”

I sat on the closed toilet lid for about ten minutes, composing myself while the water ran in the sink so he couldn’t hear me cry. I had no idea what to do. I hated to admit it, but I was pretty far gone for him already. He made me laugh, he listened, and he got me. Oh, and made me come like a freight train. This was a second screw up, though. I had told him one more chance. Granted, he had already done the deed, so to speak, when I issued the caveat. And he come clean of his own volition. I might have never known if he hadn’t told me (really, I would have found out somehow - I’m that good). The admission felt like it was something more. Like he wanted to get it out that so it could be moved past. My heart was screaming that it was because he wanted real, he wanted to do this properly. My brain was telling me to slow my damned roll. This was a man who, by that nature of his life, was out of town more that he was in. Could he even be trusted to be faithful? Or, at the very least, not break my fucking heart? Was I going to look pathetic and let him do whatever he wanted because he was Niall Freakin’ Horan?  Jesus.

When I went back into my room, Niall was sitting at the foot of the bed, his clothes back on. His head was dropped down, and he really looked someone had just run over his dog. His shoes were on the bed next to him, and I suddenly feared he would leave and that would be it. I really did love the emotional masochism.

“Where are you going?” My voice was so much softer than usual.

He looked up and I noticed his eyes were red rimmed and glassy. Okay, never want to see that again. “Figured I should probably go home. Done enough damage for one night I reckon.”

“Stay.” I turned off the light and climbed back into bed. He stared at me for a few moments, then stood up, nodding, taking off his shirt and crawling back up to the headboard.

“Can I hold you, pretty girl?”

I nodded and cuddled up to him, the weight of the last eight hours or so hitting me all at once. I rested my cheek on his pec. He played with my hair, whispering soft apologies as we both fell asleep.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikey Chapter 6

At Niall’s insistence, I let him take me home. Paul was pissed that I was missing quiz night for the second week in a row, a fight not being a reasonable excuse for abandoning him and not defending our honor. He let it be known that if I missed next week he was breaking up with me for good. I kissed his cheek, and when I went to lift my head, he whispered, “I love you. And if he hurts you again, know they won’t find his body. I’m from Lincolnshire. I know hog farmers.” This boy watched too much true crime TV. I gave him a second kiss (God, I couldn’t have found a better gay boyfriend) and assured him that if that was the case, I’d help him.

Leaving, we encountered something new for me. Two girls, probably nineteen or so, stopped Niall as we walked out of the pub. One looked absolutely starstruck, mouth agape (girl, I feel ya), and the other took charge, asking questions. They verified his identity and let out little squeals. He sweetly hugged them both and took the selfies with them himself because their hands shook too much to hold the phones. I dug in my bag with my left hand, and retrieved a small notebook and pen I always carried, and thrusted them at him.

“Here, so they can have your autograph, too.” The shocked girl smiled at me and whispered a thank you. I gave her a thumbs up.

The ride to my flat was fairly quiet. I tried to give him directions, but ended up thoroughly confusing him. He put my address into his navigation system and let it lead the way. I was hit with a bit of who he was - his fame and his wealth (and that we didn’t really exist on the same planet) this evening. I was pretty sure this SUV cost more than my entire post-secondary education (six years, if you’re keeping track).  The seats were made of leather so soft that I wanted to rub my cheek against them. Casually, I did. When he turned on my seat warmer, I let out a little moan.

“Like that, huh?” He sided eyed me at the stoplight, giving me a cocky little grin.

“Mmmm. A warm ass is a great thing.”

He shook his head and kept up his smile. I think we both knew what he was thinking. And it was on my mind, too. Unable to meet his eye, I watched London pass by out the window and tapped my feet to the music playing.

“Who is this? I really like it.”

“It’s good, right? My mate Bressie’s band, The Blizzards. Big back home.”

“Bressie. He commented on your Insta the other day, didn’t he?” I knew exactly who Bressie was. I’d almost licked my phone when I saw his picture. Big, tall, and muscular, he was every crush I’d ever had wrapped up into one. And it might be fun to see where Niall stood.

“Yep. One of my best buddies.”

“He’s hot.” I side eyed Niall and caught his jaw drop just a hint. “Like really, really, hot. He should have auditioned to play Superman.” He gripped the wheel a little tighter, and it was everything I could do not to laugh out loud. “I’d hit that like the wrath of God.” He had a cute little vein in his neck that bulged, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer, shaking with laughter. “You’re a little green there, punkin’.”

“That wasn’t nice. Thought I was going to have to beat up my own friend to win your affection.” He gave me a relieved smile, and I grinned back at him.

I had warned him that parking near my flat was a challenge. Having never owned a  car in London, I didn’t quite grasp how annoying on the street parking was until now. The only time I rode in a car I was usually picked up or dropped off. Niall circled around twice, muttering to himself.

“You can just let me out,” I offered. I wasn’t really sure what his plans were, and I didn’t want to impose on his time. “My flat is a mess anyhow and I fear I might scare you away if you see what a disaster I am.”

“Not possible.”

“No, really. It’ll be like that old episode of Full House when Danny goes on a date and gets back to the girl’s place and there are clothes and food everywhere and he about has a coronary. I’m trying to save you.” And now this seemed kind of real and I was more than a little terrified.

He chuckled. “Are you comparing me to Danny Tanner? I’m totally a Joey and Uncle Jesse hybrid.” Oh snap, he knows his Full House. “I’m not that much of a neat freak.”

I scoffed, “Dude, I’ve slept in your room. I creeped your closet. I’m terrified of your anal retentive wa-Stop!”

He slammed on the brakes, both of us jerking forward a bit. “Old Man Flannigan is walking to his car,” I gestured wildly behind us. “It’s the red VW.”

“Shite, it’ll be gone by the time we can get around the block again. This street is too narrow for me to let him by so I can back up.”

“No problem.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door as Flannigan flipped on his headlights. “I’ve got it. Go.” I motioned him to leave.

“Z, I’m coming inside with ya, I’m not leaving you here.” Flannigan had pulled out and was behind us and honked his horn, looking as annoyed as ever.

“No, dummy. I’m going to save the space. Go around the block again.” I rolled my eyes at him and shut the door, walking back and giving the old man behind us my biggest, fakest smile. He flipped me off. I stood in the empty space and waited for Niall to come back around, waving off people who thought they could slide in. It had gotten chilly, as it’s prone to do in mid-March London, and I danced around trying to warm myself a bit. My hand throbbed and had swollen to what felt like an Incredible Hulk sized fist, and there was going to be a lovely bruise, but I could move it so I figured I was okay. When the black SUV approached, I raised my arms and shook my hips, turning in a circle. He shook his head and rolled down the window.

“Move, ya nutter.” Surprising myself, I blew him an exaggerated kiss that he caught and pretended to rub on his lips. I waited on the sidewalk as he maneuvered into the space.

“Ya know, there’s something undeniably sexy about a man who can parallel park,” I informed him as he got out, hopping from foot to foot to keep my blood flowing.

“Really? You should see me do a three point turn.”

“Dirty talk.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we walked the four doors down to my building. “Ya cold? Your jacket isn’t very thick.”

“Freezing. Let’s get inside.” He pulled me closer and I rested my head on his shoulder.

I’d considered making him wait in the hall for ten minutes while I did a quick sweep through, but honestly, I didn’t have that much energy. And I was one handed. To know me is to love me, and part of that is my propensity for leaving a trail of my belongings anywhere I’d been. And to realize I wasn’t going to do the dishes until they smelled.

We went inside and he looked around, as you do in a new space. It wasn’t as messy as I feared (I’d gotten ready in a flash this morning, having accidentally turned off my alarm). There was, however, a bra lying on the kitchen table. A very large, very red lace bra. Our eyes landed on it at the same time, and I dove to retrieve it, stuffing it in my purse as he let out a hyena laugh.

“So this is my place. Grand tour - kitchen is there, this is the living room, bathroom is back there, and the magic happens there,” I pointed to my bedroom and gave him a half smile. “By magic, of course, I mean sleep.”

“Yeah. Course.” He wiggled his eyebrow and shot me a wry smile. “Let’s get you some fresh ice, yeah? You’re swelling up pretty good.”

“There’s a bag of peas in the freezer. Could you grab them for me?” I toed off my boots as he walked into the kitchen. I watched him walk in and open the fridge and felt my heart squeeze just a little. This is the first time, other than the pub bathroom and hallway, that we had ever been in a space alone. Trying to control myself, I walked over and turned on my “chill” playlist (creative at naming such things I am not). “Beg, Steal, or Borrow” by Ray LaMontagne filled the flat as I walked into the kitchen.

“Are these your nephews?” He motioned at the picture on the fridge of me with three golden haired boys, tucked among various invitations and save-the-dates as he handed me the peas.

“There’s beer in there if you want to grab some,” I told him, reaching into the cabinet and getting out a bottle of ibuprofen. “And yeah, those are the boys. Jack is the oldest, Sam in the middle, and Charlie is the little guy I’m holding. That’s a from Christmas a year ago, the last time I was home.” I accepted the bottle of Harp he handed me and I passed him the medicine bottle. “Could you open these for me, please?” He handed me three and I washed them down with the beer. We stood awkwardly, both leaning against the counter. I faced him, truly appreciating how handsome he was as he swallowed his drink, his lean body in skinnies and a comfy looking blue henley. Something about his Adam’s apple moving caused a definite clench in my pants. And his profile was amazing. He might just have the world’s most perfect nose, and those lips. It took a hundredth of a second for me to imagine, for the umpteenth time, kissing them and how’d they feel on any and every part of my body.

“You’re starin’,” his deep voice interrupted my dirty thoughts. Shit, he caught me. “What’s going on it that mind of yours, Zo?”

Jeff Buckley sang about lilac wine in the other room, and surprisingly my flush wasn’t as bad as it could be. What the hell, might as well go for it.

“I was thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” He turned his body towards mine, and stepped closer. “I’m right here. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I’ve told you about my most embarrassing experience (falling down a flight of stairs in my prom dress in front of the whole senior class), how much I can’t stand my brother, why I love my job, and all that. I know your fear of needles, all about the first time you got drunk, and why you’re never allowed back in that hotel in Tokyo. We’ve shared more than I have with some people I’ve been with for months. And we’ve never kissed.” Your move, Horan.

I’m happy to say that he took the gauntlet I’d thrown down. Before I could close my mouth completely from my last words, his hand was behind my ear and the other arm wrapped around my waist. His lips were every bit as soft as they looked, and his breath was warm. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened slightly for him. I could taste the beer, but also a touch of mint, like he’d been chewing gum earlier. It was sweet and my god, I never wanted anything else. He made tiny little noises of pleasure, as he held me against the cabinets, his thumbs rubbing circles in their locations. My arms were around his neck, holding his head to mine with my good hand. I could feel his smile against my mouth. I hoped he felt mine, too.

We broke apart, and it took everything in my power not to climb him like a tree. I know my grin was goofy, but to be fair, so was his. Maybe even sillier than mine. His hand stayed behind my ear, anchoring my forehead against his. When he exhaled again, he let out a little laugh that warmed me down to my toes.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a month now. Christ, woman.”

Not one to ever do anything in moderation, ever (my ass can testify to that), I pulled his head back down for more. This time he was a little more forceful, pinning me with his hips, his left hand running down my side. My nipples responded to the electricity, and I pressed them into his chest. He groaned and sucked on my tongue. I was done. These underwear just went the way of the Titanic.

We ended up on the sofa, kissing like horny sixteen year olds. The little bit of scruff he had was rubbing my chin raw, but I had zero fucks to give. His weight on top of me was perfect, and I’d wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh. When Chet Faker’s cover of “No Diggity” started in the background, he raised his head and smiled, his eyes crinkling, showing his eye dimple, which I decided I wanted to claim as mine.

“Love this song.”

In response I started singing along. “...gettin’ paid is our forte, each and every day, true player way.” He joined me me, our faces inches from each others, so close that I could count the freckles on his nose and observe the lines in his forehead when he raised his eyebrows, both of us singing and laughing. The moment was something out of Nicholas Sparks novel, if he used folk covers of 90s rap hits as a plot device. I lifted my head and rubbed my nose against his, and whispered in my best phone sex operator voice, “Stroke. Stroke.” His peals of laughter had to be heard on the street. That noise was a high I’d never experienced, and I was going to crave it from there on out. I was hooked on this stupid dork to spite myself. I didn’t care about who he was or what he did. This guy on top of me, even if he was a street sweeper living in a van down by the river, could own me just with those eyes, that laugh, and his grin. What surprised me most was what he said next:

“You scare me, Z.”

Huh? To quote the man himself, I’m about as intimidating as a baby penguin (all bark and absolutely no bite). My confusion was written all over my face, and he ran his thumb across the furrow of my brows.

“I’ve already fucked this up once. I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay. Don’t then. Don’t get in your own head. Let’s just be.”

Now if that isn’t easier said than done.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 5

Later that week we FaceTimed for two and a half hours (random texts had been exchanged in the meantime, plus our ongoing IG flirtation). I tried for the first hour and a half to position my iPad at a perfect angle so no double chin was showing and I actually looked like I had cheekbones (can someone invent a SnapChat filter for FT?). Finally I gave up and propped it up using books on my nightstand.

“Finally! I was wonderin’ if you were ever going to get comfortable.”

“Dick.” His response was a huge smile, showing off all his dimples. Both cheeks, chin, and eye. I tried to control my swoon, aware that he was watching me. I laid on my side and propped my head up on two pillows. He looked back at me, intently. The blue of his Nike t-shirt made his sleepy eyes look even more heavenly, and the dark scruff on his chin was begging to be touched.

“You look cozy. And I was right about your room. It looks just like ya.”

I looked around my space, taking in the off white walls (I loved color, but was too lazy to paint a rental), the Ikea bed that I’d bribed Paul and Aaron with four dozen cookies and a night’s worth of drinks to help me assemble, multiple blankets, and mismatched sheets. He could only see one of the three paintings my college best friend, Lindsay, had done for me (abstract florals) and a bit of my dresser.

“Wow. You think I look like a boho hobo, eh? Glad you think so highly of me. I think you look just like your sterile cha-cha hotel room. No.Fun.” To accentuate my point, I stuck out my tongue.

“Agh.” His little strangled noise was so cute I died. “I mean it looks warm and unique. Like you could stay there forever and never get bored.” I’m pretty sure our blushes were matching at this point. I buried my face in my pillow and groaned and he started gnawing this thumbnail.

“Hey, how did you know I have a quilt made by my Grandma?” We needed a conversation changer so I asked the question that had totally weirded me out last time.

“You do? Really?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. I yanked it up closer to the screen to show him. He just shook his head. “I dunno why I thought that. Uh, it just seemed like a Zoe thing. Can’t believe you really have one.”

“Grandma B made this for me when I was eight. I spent part of the summer at their house and had picked all the scrap fabric leftovers from when she and Auntie Kay would sew. She found my collection after I went home and made this for me for Christmas that year. It’s the first thing I’d grab if I had to leave in an emergency. She passed away two years ago, so it’s the only thing I’ve got that reminds me of her.” My voice had gotten smaller at the end, and I gave him a wry smile. “No one really ever talks about someone after they die, and that’s hard for me. I talk about EVERYTHING.”

We held one another’s eyes for longer than a moment and he leaned back against the back of the chair he was sitting in, exhaling deeply and giving me a soft smile. “Tell me about your Nan.”

Thursday I called him when I got home from the pub. He was appreciative of the fact that Paul had placed a beer at the empty seat on my other side, and took a picture of me next to the chair with my lip out, pouting. “That was the cutest fuckin’ thing I ever seen.”

Friday I was pooped. Bowing out of my happy hour(s) plans with Jess and Aaron and a new guy Aaron liked, I went home. Plus, I had a phone date. I’d just made it in the door when my phone rang but ’d begged off FaceTime so he wouldn’t watch me slurp my frozen dinner. And I was dying to take off my bra. After casual flirting and chatting, the topic of family came up. We both had older brothers that we weren’t on good terms with, and nephews (he had one to my three). Like me, he considered his friends his family, but I could tell he was fond of his ‘Da’, too. I prattled on about my mom, the only person I really missed from home, and he got quiet. “Don’t talk to mine much.” I knew from Google that he’d lived with his dad (whose cheeks were dying for me to pinch them) after his parents divorced. Obviously it was a touchy subject. So I went full Zoe.

“Hey, I have an idea!” I was taking my makeup off with a wipe, so it probably sounded more like, “heymurhwiteee!”

“What’s that, love?”

“So we’re getting to know each other, right? I don’t have a filter, so I’ll tell you anything you want to know, obviously. More, probably. I, um, realize that not everyone appreciates this. If I ask a question you don’t want to answer, or if either one of us wants to change the conversation, we should have a code word.” I was really a genius.

The line got quiet. Then I could hear amusement in his voice, “Z, are you suggesting we have a safe word?”

Oh my fucking god. I was. “No, for conversa-”. My face turned red, but without him being there to stare at me, I just starting cackling. “Christ. Not sexual!” He was flat out giggling and I was almost hyperventilating.

“I think a safe word is an excellent idea,” he finally sputtered out. “Jesus, I wish you could see me right now. I’m doubled over on the edge of the bed laughin’ my arse off.”

“Mock me, Horan. Go ahead. I’ll just keep asking you all of your deep hidden secrets.”

“Go ahead, babe. I’d tell you anything.”

Well now my blush had just gone down to the top of my chest, and my breathing increased. “I don’t know if you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into. I’m relentless.”

“God, I hope so.” There was that octave drop again, and suddenly we were talking about something completely different. Help me. I had no idea how to do this. I just listened to him breathe for a moment, twirling a loose thread on my t-shirt, trying to figure out what to do next.

A loud thump sounded on Niall’s end, followed by a “Son of a whore!” Deo to the rescue (or not, depending on how you wanted this to turn out). The moment broken, we returned to normal conversation. We agreed our code (safe) word would be Pringles. It was just odd enough that it wouldn’t come up in regular conversation. He had suggested potato as the word, but I corrected him that potatoes come up frequently in my conversations. There was no greater food. Pringles, we both agreed, were shit, though. There you have it.

He told me about his weekend plans, which included the VIP treatment that night at a LA Galaxy game, while I packed some things for the work trip I had next week. I informed him real men rooted for the Columbus Crew (the only MLS team I knew - a high school friend worked for them). Saturday he was going to hang out with his lad Louis (I was assuming the one from the band, I didn’t ask so as to not appear too nosy). Next weekend he was going to a UFC thing in Vegas on Saturday as the guest of some big time Irish fighter, prolonging his trip a few extra days (I felt my lip jut out in a pout when he said this). He sounded like a kid in a candy store, so I tried to follow along. Thanks to Brian and Carly’s boyfriend, Ty, I had seen a few UFC fights. Then he started talking golf.

Everything I knew about golf could fit on the end a one of the tees (or, when I couldn’t think of the word, “those things from the peg game at Cracker Barrel!”). I knew he loved it and was passionate, but I had no idea to what extreme. Apparently he and Deo had scheduled a round for the next week at some famous course with important people, and he prattled on and on. Since he was basically speaking Latin as far as my comprehension went, my mind wandered off, adding in an occasional “really?” and “wow”. I used my iPad to check Twitter, commenting on a few things, retweeting others, and posting a witty quote from a very wasted Carly the night before (“No, ya bellends, it was the fucking Teletubbies!”). There were a few beeping alerts in the background and I noticed Niall had fallen quiet.

“Ni?”

“Jus’ tell me if you’re not interested in what I’m talkin’ about, Zoe,” he sounded perturbed. Shit. Busted.

“What?!” (Innocence wasn’t my strong game.) “You and Deo are going golfing with that guy from the waffle commercials (shit, his name...what was it?). Last time you played him you lost but you’ve been working on your swing. It’ll be good for your golf company.” Yes, I had actually retained some information.

“You posted eight times on Twitter while I was talkin’.” His voice sounded hurt, and I felt like a total asshole. Shit shit shit.

“I’m sorry, boo.” Boo? When did I give him a lovey nickname? “I hadn’t checked it since this morning, and I don’t know anyth---.” Wait a second. “Hold up, I’ve never given you my Twitter account.” I might be forgetful as hell regarding day to day chores and putting things in the post, but incidental things? Those were my jam. I remembered every small detail, and for the last two weeks I’d been running all of my conversations with Niall through my head on a loop. “And unless you’re a super sleuth, you didn’t just find it. My name isn’t attached to it and it’s an old email account.” My family followed my Facebook and IG. Twitter was where I went to unload. My friends knew my account, but that was it. I had several thousand followers from around the globe - I’d been around forever and am irreverent as hell. I kept it public because I liked the attention (I’ll admit it) but was careful to not post pics of myself or anything readily identifiable.

Niall cleared his throat. And then did it again. “Pringles?”

“Spill it, buttercup. I’m waiting.”

“Um. Agh. I follow ya. Have been for a while.”

Whaaaaaa?

“Omg. That was that beeping noise. You have me on notifications!” Well done, Horan. “How? What? Why?”

He sounded like he wanted to find a hole and crawl into it. I imagined him biting the skin around his nails like I’d seen him do in interviews. Oh, the shoe is on the other foot now, mister. The pained groan he let out was one of the funnier things I’d ever heard. He was embarrassed. And it was because of me. I was so pleased.

“So Hannah hung out at my house a few times before the first quiz night, okay?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

“This is mortifyin’ and I sound like a stalker.”

“Tell me or I’ll tip off TMZ where you’re going to be all weekend.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I talked a good game and that was the extent of it and (we both knew it) but he continued.

“So she talked about you lot all the time. We teased her that you all sounded like a TV show: the sassy gay guy, his ex-boyfriend, the sweet innocent girl, the maneater, the jerk, and the hilarious sidekick.”

“I hope I’m the hilarious sidekick.” I sat back against my pillows and waited for more. I’m glad he couldn’t see my smile or smug look.

“Ya are. She read us a few of your tweets. Like the one about the dog shite in the park. Your philosophy on microbrews. And the one about your love of your big mixer.”

“Yeah? I do love that damn mixer.”

“So much you want to write love poems to it?”

“Exactly.”

“Then she showed us pics from her IG,” his voice trailed off a bit. “I thought you were cute. Um, beautiful, actually. The rest of the girls would all be posing inna group pic, and you’re making a face or stickin’ your tongue out. You’re diff’rent. And I was still laughin’ about the tweets. So I followed you on my private account.”

Wow. I was going to need a few minutes to process this. And by minutes I meant years. I’m pretty sure my jaw was getting rug burn from how hard it hit the floor.  

“Z? Fuck, I freaked you out, didn’t I?” His voice was almost panicked. I assumed this was new territory for a guy who got any girl he looked at.

“No. I’m just. Well, it...Damn. That doesn’t make sense.” I tried to laugh, but my hands were shaking and my heart was in my throat. This was not the direction I ever dreamed this conversation would take. I knew what pics were on Hannah’s IG. I always complained and felt kind of crappy because everyone else always looked hot girl, and I was just me. And yes, I usually pulled a stupid face.

“It makes a lot of sense, Zoe. You’re pretty fuckin’ great. Even if ya know nothin’ about golf.”

Knock me over with a feather.

Saturday night I joined Paul and a group of his coworkers at a trendy nightclub (someone in the group was blowing one of the doormen, I didn’t ask questions). An hour into it I was over the experience and trying to find a graceful way to exit. This wasn’t my scene - way too many of the young rich and famous. Taking out my phone for entertainment, I realized I hadn’t heard hide nor hair from Niall all day. I won’t lie, I was a little surprised after the bomb he’d dropped last night.

“Stop looking at your phone, hooker,” Paul slid in next to me, handing me another drink. “That guy I was dancing with had a tiny dick. Not wasting my time. I heard Rafferty Law is here somewhere. Let’s find him!”

Unable to resist Paul (and a good treasure hunt) we spent the evening attempting to sneak into VIP. And downing cold vodka. We managed to annoy the shit out of some doormen but not get thrown out.  That’s a win in our books. Eating a kebab on the way home, I broke my own rule and texted Niall first.

“Was in your world tonight. Paulie got us into Libertine. Too many boob jobs and coke.”

“Anyhow, how’s my favorite Irishman (don’t tell Deo, I’m letting him down easy)?”

Nada.

Over the weekend various pictures of him came across my Twitter feed (yeah, I followed an update account, even I judged myself). Him at a Galaxy practice, clowning around and acting a fool. A cute fool, but a fool nonetheless. Pics from his night out with Louis, including him peeing on a building. I was a little concerned that I hadn’t heard from him in almost a day and a half, but he was obviously busy. I tried to ignore the girl who showed up in a few shots, and talked down my inner jealous monster when I saw one where he was doing some sort of wrestling move on her. He’s a freaking popstar. There are girls dying for a molecule of the oxygen he’d breathed. Of course there were girls hanging around the practice. And I was going to ignore that the same girl was in the background of the pics of him and Louis. Also, I needed to stop. I called Jess to meet me for an early dinner. Erring on the safe side, I left my phone at home.

I got home around 8. Two texts from Niall. Thank God.

“Yeah Libertine can be a mess .”

“Got a wicked hangover .”

“Peed on a building, eh?”

“Ugh. My manager is fuckin mad at me .”

“And what the hell did you do to your hair? It’s neon!”

“Not nice. It went too blonde .”

“No shit. You’re still pretty cute, though.” That, folks, was the patented Zoe Bechtel flirt move. Insult them and then try to say something clever. And fail. Fail particularly hard when his response is,

“Going to lay back down. Head hurts.” Mine, too, Niall. Mine, too.

Monday was a few short messages here and there. Short answers, though he did initiate it by saying good morning shortly after 8am.  I’m not a dumb girl. It was obvious that he was pulling away, and fuck him if he was. I was fine before him, and I’ll be fine after. I put my head down and worked. And stayed late to prepare for being out of the office the rest of the week for a conference in Manchester. By the time I got home I was too tired to care about Niall. I took melatonin and went to bed, physically and mentally exhausted.

Over the next few days I threw myself into the conference. I got to see some of my favorite people and socialized when we weren’t in sessions. Tuesday I sent him a “Hi” that didn’t get answered for eleven hours. He tried to call me Wednesday night, but I let it go voicemail. He didn’t leave one. Thursday night I got lonely. I didn’t want to go out, I wanted to sulk. My people were all together without me, and the boy who told me 6 days ago that he liked me had suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth. I was sad so I went with my favorite coping mechanism, ordering a bottle of wine from room service. After 2 glasses, I FaceTimed Hannah on my iPad. Even if I wasn’t in London, I wanted to hang out with everyone. Unfortunately, Social Meme-ia were big babies who whined that we were cheating, so we had to disconnect. I ran a bath and climbed in with the rest of the bottle.

An hour or so later, my phone rang. Annoyed because the Rage Against the Machine I was listening to had been interrupted. Who dare interrupt my pity party? Hannah.

“Hey, babe. You okay?” Hannah had been kept apprised of the Niall situation (initially thrilled - ‘we’ll be cousins-in-law or some shit!’ she now had bounty out on his head). She’d offered to break into his closet and break all of his sunglasses. I had told her I’d get back to her on that.

“Dandy.”

“Willie wants to talk to you.”

“Not in the mood, Han.”

“Get in the mood. He’s Team Z.”

Before I could argue further, Willie’s brogue came on the line. “Zoe?”

“Hey, Willie. Listen, we don’t need to do this, it’s just weird and stupid and-”

“My cousin is a fucking idgit.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

Willie started off by issuing a caveat that he loved Niall like a brother. I understood this - he had a bond with Deo and Willie that was obvious to even the casual observer. Then he filled me in on Maura, Niall’s mum. She had left when he was little, and drifted in and out of his life over the years, showing up when it was convenient for her. In the past few years, of course, she’d shown up quite a bit more often.

“He’s never quite known what to do with girls, Z. He won’t say, and I don’t think he even knows it, but he’s afraid someone is going to leave him like Maura did. He doesn’t know how to trust a woman. He knows how to pick ‘em up, and how to get ‘em in bed, but beyond that, he’s still a teenager. He sabotages relationships so they breakup with him, or he ghosts them if he thinks they’re getting too close. Got a wall around his heart.”   

“Or he’s just a dick.” Sigh.

“Or he’s just a dick. But we both know he’s really not. Z, I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at ya. Fuck, he was arse over tits for ya before he even met ya.”

My fingers were pruning and I was feeling devastatingly sober. “Listen, I’m not into being Niall’s emotional guinea pig. I have my own shit to deal with. And I’m working on my application to the nearest convent.” Try to insert some humor.

“I hear ya. But as your friend and his, don’t give up on him completely. I told him you’re hurtin’ and I think his heart broke.”

“That’s on him. I appreciate the talk, Willie. You’re a good guy. And please don’t feel like you need to be in the middle of whatever the hell this is. Tell Hannah I said goodnight.”

“Night, Zoe.”

I slept for shit that night. How much of a risk was I willing to take on second hand information? Did I even want to get involved with someone who, if this was to be believed, was pretty emotionally unavailable. I banged my head into the mattress. Why couldn’t he just be the nice guy from last week? I knew that shit was too good to be true.  

As I got ready Friday morning, my text alert dinged.

“Hi”

“I’m an asshole .

“you don’t deserve this .

“Sorry Z . I fucked up .”

“Can I make it right ?”

That’s a loaded fucking question. And one I needed to toss over in my head. All the way through the morning sessions and the closing luncheon. And my train ride home. I literally made a pro/con list. And wiggled around in my seat so much that I thought the gentleman next to me was going to beat me upon the head with his umbrella. When I got to my flat (after a hellacious cab trip in which I’m sure the driver hit every pothole in England), I stared at my phone for at least ten minutes. The masochist in me wanted to just throw caution to the wind and go for it. The sensible Zoe, who had been hurt far too many times by friends and lovers screwing her over, was begging me to throw the phone against the wall.

In the end, I was weak. I liked the way it felt have his attention. I liked his voice, his weird strangling sounds, and the excitement that was evident when he talked about music and sports. I liked that he asked me questions that no guy ever had before (What were you for Halloween when you were a kid? What’s your favorite smell?) and that he listened to my answers. I liked that his sense of humor was as twisted as mine, and that his laugh was what I imagined sunshine would sound like if it made noise. So I texted him.

“You’ve got one shot, Horan. Make it good.”

My phone rang in 32 seconds.

I’d be lying if I said I was warm and chatty to Niall. He didn’t say anything about it (nor should he). The conversation was pretty superficial - we both discussed what we had been doing over the week (me: conference, him: golf and stuff for his new house). There was not a lot of light hearted teasing or joking like there had been before. How did I miss something that had only happened a few times? After about thirty minutes and me audibly yawning a few times (the lack of sleep had caught up with me, and it was late), he let me go. He was off to Vegas for the fight.

“Have a safe trip, Ni.”

“Will do.” He sighed. “Um, Zo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me call you. I’m sorry.”

I was actually stunned silent for a moment. I could hear him still breathing so I knew he hadn’t hung up. “Okay, Niall. Just be careful with me, okay? I’m fragile.” I hung up before he could respond.

I slept until noon. He’d texted while I was out, telling me he’d arrived in Vegas and at his hotel, and sent a pic of an Elvis impersonator. Even though it was in the middle of the night there, I responded with a sleepy smile selfie with my thumb up and a crown emoji. He was The King, after all. My melancholy mood had lifted slightly, and I tried to psyche myself up for the party Willie was throwing that night. I’d be in Niall’s house for the first time, and he was literally five thousand miles away.

I hadn’t been to Hertfordshire since I finished grad school. Niall’s house was a neighborhood that poor students didn’t venture into. It was surprisingly humble and normal - definitely not out of an episode of Cribs. The party was already in full swing when we arrived. The Irish had definitely cracked the beers open early. Hannah, already two sheets to the wind, encouraged Jess, Carly, and I to catch up. We were introduced around, and a few too many people gave me knowing looks when I was said I was Hannah’s friend Zoe. It was kind of Twilight Zone-ish. What exactly did they know about me?

I hadn’t told Niall I was going to be at his house. I assumed he knew that the party was going on, and that our group was invited. After doing shots with a guy named Connor who had a ponytail and a nice smile, I sipped on my beer. It might be funny to send Niall a picture from inside his house. I considered going into his bedroom and posing in his closet (really, I just wanted to check out the legendary hyper-organized room that everyone busted his balls about), but thought that might be a bit too much. And Willie said no. I settled for President Obama and a bottle of Jameson.

“Look who I found out and about tonight? You might be hanging with the King, but I found a nice presidential garden statue in Hertfordshire.”

“Hahahaha I’m surprised you didn’t break into my room and selfie from there .”

The way he had an understanding of my brain kind of scared me.

     “Wanted to. Willie shot me down.”

“Tell him you have special rights .”

I didn’t have a good response to this, and Carly grabbed me to play flip cup. I’d get back to him later.

It was a surprise to the partygoers (well, those who’d only known us a few hours) that Carly and I were flip cup masters. She was tall, blonde, and posh - not someone you would expect to chug a beer like it was her job. By God’s grace, I had a baby face (chubby cheeks will do that to a girl) that gave off a sense of innocence I’d never possessed. Fairly certain I destroyed any illusions the first time I bellowed, “Drink, motherfucker!” to a guy named Max. It appeared Paul and Brian made a few bucks betting  Willie’s friends. At the end of the night we were all too tired (and drunk) to go home, so we ended up crashing in various locations in the house. I tried to wiggle into a corner of the couch I was sharing with Jess, and gave up.

“So this will be a weird question…”

“Nothing shocks me Z .”

“Can I sleep in your room? The sofa is cramped and I’m about to cry I’m so tired.”

“Course . One condition . Send me a pic of you in my bed .”

“In the morning. Night.”

Jess joined me in Niall’s gigantic bed in his pristine room. He was a bigger neat freak that I figured, which could be a problem. I’m a slob. His bed was heaven, though, and I never wanted to sleep anywhere else.

“I’m in love with your bed. I’m taking it home with me.”

“Good morning, btw.”

“Glad you sleep well . Do I get my picture ?”

Luckily, I had washed my face when I used the bathroom, so the crusty eyeliner and smudged lipstick was gone. I curled up behind Jess, spooning her, and took a pic.

“Holy shit . There are two girls in my bed .”

“Si. And you’re not here. We only made out a little, though.”

“Jesus . Dont even tease like that . We’re just gettin back to the hotel . Deo might not be safe .”

     “ ;)”

“Oh hey, I solved a great Niall mystery.”

“What’s that ?”

“You have a familiar smell I couldn’t place. I know now.”

“My manly musk ?”

“Your shampoo. We use the same kind.”

“Good . One less thing for you to bring next time you sleep over .”

Well.

Niall and Deo got back Thursday morning. He assured me they would be at the pub even though I told him it wasn’t necessary, I knew he’d be exhausted. We could hang out another time over the weekend. I’d been a little aloof over the week, not ready to jump back in as hard as I’d been. Caution, thy name is Zoe. However, I was secretly very pleased when Paul texted me that Niall and Deo were already there when he arrived, and had claimed our table. I, of course, was late-partially because I redid my whole face and spent 15 minutes trying to style my hair before I left the office, and partially because London traffic is a bitch. I finally abandoned my cab two blocks from my destination and hoofed it the rest of the way - the waiting was driving me crazy. Full of nerves, I entered the pub. And I didn’t fall. Score.

As I started to walk over to our table, carefully navigating the other patrons, I heard my name followed by a lewd comment regarding the size of my ass and boybanders. Hell no. Anger flashing, I whipped around to the table of guys from Social Meme-ia.

“Excuse me, fuck boy, WHAT did you just say?” I got a leering grin in response from the member that Jess and I called Captain Creepy, because of his rude comments and incapability to keep his hands to himself.

“I was just complimenting your fat ass, Zoe. Carly is a little too skinny for my taste. You always look like you could use a good fuck. Obviously your little pop star isn’t satisfying you. I’d love to stick my co-...”

He didn’t get to finish his thought as my brain snapped in two. I pushed, hard, knocking him back several feet. “Listen, asshole. I know you think you’re being cute, but is it not enough that I pounce on your itty bitty brain cells every week? You want me to kick your ass right here in front of all your friends?” I pushed him again, sending him into one of his teammates. “Because really, I’d be doing every woman you ever encounter in your life a favor, you fucking degenerate piece of TRASH!” By this time I was in his face with a pointed finger, and my voice was echoing throughout the pub.

One of his friends jumped up to get between us as he yelled, “Jesus, you fucking bitch! Someone needs to beat your...” It was at this moment he made the unwise decision to grab my left arm and yank me. Hard. I squared up out of instinct and threw the punch my dad had been training me for my entire life. He yelled, falling into the table. I screamed as I recoiled, blood splattering on his face and beer hitting the floor.

“What the fuck is the problem here?” A deep Irish accent carried through the bar, and Niall was next to me, tucking me into his side. “Zoe, are you okay?”

Niall was flanked by Deo, Willie, and Aaron, our often absent friend (and Paul’s ex boyfriend). Willie had his arm on Hannah, and it looked like he was physically restraining her from lunging at Creepy. Jess and Carly watched with gaping mouths from the table. Niall’s jaw was set and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m fucking peachy.” Goddamn, that hurt and felt amazing at the same time. I tore myself away from Niall and continued, “it seems that this walking sexual assault’s mother never bothered to teach him basic manners or how to respect women!” My adrenaline was pumping and I lunged at him again, Aaron catching me from behind and picking my feet off the ground.

Niall’s eyes flashed dark, his face bright red, and I could see Deo straighten his posture. Hold up, were these crazy Irish motherfuckers going to fight someone for me?  “Listen, mate,” Niall’s voice had dropped an octave, and I’m not going to lie that it was hot as hell (oh for fuck’s sake), “I think you owe the lady an apology.” He got closer to Creepy’s face, “You don’t speak to my girl like that, EVER, motherfucker.”

Deo joined in “I think you better take your ass out of here.”

Hold up. Niall referred to me as “my girl”. And honestly, I was fairly certain I could fight both he and Deo by myself, but them trying to come to my rescue was cute. Aaron was the only one was was even remotely intimidating. I crossed my arms across my chest, still being held aloft, and stared at Creepy, enjoying the blood gushing out of his nose.

“Listen, Zoe, we’re sorry, he’s pissed and -” one of his teammates tried to speak.

“What the fuck is going on? Is Z murdering someone?” I could hear Paul’s yell from the back of pub.

“And he’s going to regret that tomorrow,” Eric, the doorman, pushed his way into our circle. “Guys, you’re all out of here. No quiz night, and he’s not welcome back again. Ever.” He motioned to Aaron and the rest of our group to return to the table as he started clearing out Social Meme-ia.

Hannah grabbed me out of Aaron’s grasp and hugged me. “Oh my god are you okay? Shit, Z, your hand is swelling already.”

“I’m fine,” I stretched my fist and goddamn it, it hurt. “Seething, but fine.”

“Holy shit, Zo,” Deo patted my shoulder, “remind me to never step in front of your fist. I think you broke that cunt’s nose.”

My friends walked me over to our table, Willie taking my bag and coat and tucking them away. Brian was filling in Paul on the drama, and I’m sure Paul was going to be mad because he missed it. Carly and Jess gave me hugs. I knew my face was burning red because everyone in place was looking at me. This was certainly not how I’d planned on my night starting. I tucked my head down a bit and closed my eyes. Shit. I could feel tears burning in the back of my eyes. Emotions. Crap. Bathroom. I need to gather myself.

When I stood, something touched my elbow. Niall was behind me, with a whiskey in one hand and a bunched up bar towel in the other. “Here,” he handed me the drink, “and here.” The towel was actually an ice pack, and he placed it gently on my swelling hand as I swallowed the shot. I choked a bit, and he grabbed a pint from the table, holding it up to my mouth for a sip. “It’s okay, it’s mine. I’m not contagious.” His smile was soft, but didn’t reach his eyes which still were heavy with concern. “Where ya going?”

“Bathroom. I think I need a minute,” I whispered in a voice so low I don’t know how he heard me. But he nodded and lead me to the back using my good hand, knocking on the door to the ladies room and sticking his head in when there was no response. “C’mon, it’s all clear.” He held the door open for me, and followed me in, locking the door.

I let out a deep sigh, not wanting to deal with anything else tonight. “Niall, you don’t have to stay in here. I’m fine, I just need-”

“Hey, I want to make sure you’re okay. With everything.” When he touched my cheek I was done, and the tears fell. Instead of sobbing, however, broken laughter came out of my mouth. Niall wrapped his arms around me in the tightest hug I’ve ever received. “Please be okay, Z.” I buried my head into his chest and he sighed.  

“I’ve never hit anyone in my life that I’m not biologically related to. Shit. Do you think I really broke his nose?” Talking about Captain Creepy meant not talking about the past week and a half. I’d take potential assault charges over drama.

“You were amazing. You ARE amazing.”  He tugged on the hair behind his ear out of nervous habit. “That jackass got everything that was coming to him. You’re a damned ninja.”

“Yeah. Um, I guess he did. Thanks for having my back.” Is a thank you appropriate when your not-really-boyfriend tries to defend your honor when you’ve already taken care of matters yourself?

“Z, I literally did nothing. And, uh, I’m so sorry. So sorry. For everything.” Whoa, double meaning much? “I would have liked to decked that motherfucker myself, but you took care of it. I have never been so proud of anyone in my life.” He kept rubbing my back, appearing to not want to break physical contact.

I pulled my head back and looked Niall in the eye. Proud? He smiled at me, and this time it reached his eyes. “I’m calling you Rocky from now on. Can I hire you for part of my security team?”

“Haha,” I pushed him away and walked over to the mirror, trying to fix my destroyed face. He stood behind me, so close I could feel his breath on my neck. I could not think with him this close. He put his hands on my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror. For a moment, I let myself just take in the picture before me. We looked good together. My almost-black hair offset his bleach blonde. His skin was still tan from his walkabout and weeks in LA, and mine was its usual alabaster. The most amazing blue eyes met my wide set brown pair. We were like a ying yang, but it worked. We each made up the differences between us to make a whole. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm the nerves that were once again rocketing through my body. Neither one of us knew what the hell we were doing, right now or in general. His arms closed in, hugging me from behind. When I opened my lids, I saw his face tucked into my hair. I leaned back into him, and allowed him to hold me like this for several moments. I was a goner.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 4

Despite my throbbing head, Friday flew by. I tried not to check my phone every 38 seconds, but failed. I wanted him to text me, but he had to do it first. I don’t play by “The Rules” usually (hmmmm, given my dating history, maybe I should try) but out of sheer anxiety I never call or text first. It doesn’t mean that I don’t bite my nails while waiting, however. And more than once I’ve basically bitten a whole finger off waiting for a message that never came. I tried to distract myself at work by helping in the office in between appointments, explaining some procedures to Rose’s replacement (I’m sure telling her the total wrong thing). At lunch I decided to take a walk to occupy myself, but ended up sitting in the tea shop seven doors down eating a chocolate croissant and sipping Earl Grey. I was wearing ballet flats - there’s simply not enough arch support for a walk. Plus, my afternoon appointments didn’t need to see me sweaty. It was in the best interest of my patients. I was a woman of the people.

That evening Carly and I went to see Kinky Boots on the West End. It was my favorite and Carly had gotten box seats through someone at work. We sang like ninnies throughout the show, laughing and carrying on. Afterwards we hit a swank gastro-pub she’d heard about. As we settled in and were chatting about our days, she dropped the bomb I knew she’d been dying to ask, “So, Niall?”

“Nope.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yep. Spill.”

“Well yes, young Niall. He’s a friend of a friend. Perhaps you’ve noticed him at quiz night. Blonde thing, Irish?”

Biting into the olive in her martini, she stuck her tongue out at me. “Seems like he’s more than a friend of a friend. You two were almost snogging last night.”

“I was just playing with his hair. It was innocent. I do that to Paulie all the time.”

“Paul doesn’t practically drool on your boobs when you play with his hair. And he doesn’t look that cozy, either.”

“Stop.”

“Z,” she started. “He rea-...”

“No, Carly. I said stop.” I knew my irritation was evident. I had no poker face - anything I thought or felt was always on display. “Listen, he’s really nice and all the other stuff. But it’s nothing. NOTHING.” She tried to interrupt and I held up my hand. “Don’t. I will not get my hopes up. Because every time someone shows me interest I get a little excited, and I am not doing that anymore. It never ends well, and I’m not putting myself through it again. Remember Adam?” I took a long drink of my martini (Ketel One, extra dirty) and stared at her.

“Right. He was a dick.”

“He was a dick who lead me on for two months and then Aaron found out he had a girlfriend in Leeds. And before him there was Sam, and, um, Robbie. In college there was Dave. High school was Sean. And Kyle The Worst.  I’m not doing it. Short of Niall Horan tattooing my name on his ass, I will not believe this is anything more than friendship.” For emphasis, I smacked my hand on the table, startling the tables around us. I eyeballed people who were looking, and stuck my tongue out at a kid about 7 who was staring. Like a sensible human being, he stuck his back out at me.

I’d been unable to get over my hissy fit with Carly, so we called it a night after one drink and no dinner. She hugged me outside of the pub. “Sorry, Z. I didn’t mean to upset you. But don’t shut him down. Friend or whatever, I think he’d be a good guy to keep around.” I nodded at her and hugged her back. I wasn’t mad at her really - she said the same things I would have said if the tables were turned. But Carly didn’t have my history with men, so she couldn’t understand where I was coming from. Sigh. I dug around my purse and found an emergency Valium in my container of miscellaneous pills, swallowing it as the cab sped towards my flat.

I slept late Saturday and Sunday mornings (okay, I sleep late every weekend) and ran errands. I’d begrudgingly let Hannah talk me into hot yoga on the condition that we got pancakes afterwards. I spent the rest of my free time on laundry, had dinner and wine at one of the other therapist’s in my office’s house, and caught up on paperwork. My friends all avoided any mention of Niall - I was assuming Carly had made everyone aware of my meltdown Friday night and they were tiptoeing around me. I was okay with that, though. I didn’t post on Instagram, but went on a few rants on Twitter. Nothing exciting happened, not that I expected it to. Sadly my philosophy on life was to set low expectations and never be disappointed.  

Monday began earlier than I expected when my texts notifications dinged at 6:30 (my alarm was set for 6:45 - those 15 minutes make a huge difference). Having been raised to believe that no good came of late night or early morning phone calls, and having adapted this to texting as well, I fumbled for my phone, knocking it off the nightstand. Trying to get to it as soon as possible (Did someone need bail money? Had my sister-in-law finally snapped and murdered my brother?), I fell off the bed. Happy fucking Monday.

Niall. The text was from Niall. I rubbed the tiny knot rising on my forehead (which I knew would swelll into a goose egg by the time the morning was over), and opened it.

“Dragged everyone to quiz night . Not the same without ya !

“I’m shite at the science questions-wish ya were here Z .”

Holy fuck beans. I was wide awake now. As I processed this info, another text came in.

“Oh, and it’s trivia night here . Not quiz night . Americans ;) .”

That was flirty. It was definitely flirty. There was a wink emoji. I took a screenshot of the conversation and sent it to Hannah.

“HELP!”

“HELP!

“HANNAH LOUISE GET UP! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”

“omg. he texted you! he’s flirting! that’s total flirting!”

“i’m totally squealing for you, btw”

“Right? Me too!”

“what did you say back?”

Fuck. I needed to respond.

“I haven’t. Shit, what do I say?”

“be clever.”

“Oh, that’s helpful.”

“z, it’s 6:40 on a monday morning. you’re lucky i’m awake.”

Okay, I can do this. I carried my phone (like it was my precious baby) into the kitchen while I started my Nespresso. I tried typing in several witty answers and deleted them before I could hit send.

“Sorry, my friend. You hit the quiz night goldmine with us on your first try. And damn those dirty Americans :)”

When I didn’t get a response in a few minutes, I gave up and started to get ready for the day. In the shower (washing your hair actually causes ideas to get loose, I swear) I thought of several comebacks that would have been much better. Damn. No response as I gave my hair a quick blow dry (then gave up and put it in a bun), tossed on my fast weekday makeup (BB cream, a quick swipe of eyeliner, and mascara...lipstick could be done on the tube), and tossed on a pair of gray khakis and a navy sweater. Nothing. Bullocks. I reminded myself that this was the exact reason I didn’t want to get excited about Niall in the first place-it was too easy to get caught up and let my emotions get dictated by someone else. With a concerned effort, I turned off my phone and tossed it in my bag.

When I finished with my 3:00 appointment, one of the part-time admins was standing outside of the treatment room we’d been in. “Zoe, you need to call a Hannah back as soon as possible. She’s called three times since lunch and sounds like she’s really upset. I hope everything is okay.”

Damn it, Hannah, you drama queen. I went into my (tiny) office and retrieved my phone, turning it on. 14 texts from Hannah, 8 from Paul, 2 each from Jess and Carly, and 1 from Brian. She’d sent in the troops. As I scrolled through, I saw one more I’d missed in my initial perusal - Niall. First things first, though: Hannah. I called her extension at work and she picked up, “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“Wow, that’s a professional way to answer the phone. I’m fine. Turned my phone off this morning.”

“Did he not text back?” People were shouting numbers behind her and the mere idea of it gave me a rash.

“Not right away, and I didn’t want to keep looking at the phone. Just checked it since you freaking called the hounds out on me. He responded.”

“And?”

“And what? I didn’t read it yet. I called you before Scotland Yard showed up at my office.”  

“Well fucking read it!” her high pitched voice pierced the line. Ouch.

“I’ll text you shortly. Call off the posse, I’m safe.” I ended the call and stared at the phone a minute. Here goes nothing.

“I did hit the jackpot for quiz mates . Brains and beauty .”

I gasped. Literally gasped. And dropped my phone, narrowly missing my mid-afternoon San Pellegrino. Beauty. BEAUTY. But mate. But beauty. But mate. Gah! This is why my spinster plan was a good idea. Copied the text and sent to Hannah with my own “WTF?” note.

I hammered out a quick response, “Yeah, Paul’s quite the catch. You did well.” It was almost 7 am in Los Angeles (thanks, Google, because time zone math always tricked me). I didn’t figure Niall for an early riser, so back in the bag went the phone and I went into my 4:00 with Elliott, one of my favorite kids.

On the tube home I couldn’t resist and looked again. Nothing. So I did what any sensible person would do and ordered eggplant parmigiana take away. I got into my flat, changed into an old t-shirt - pants were totally optional in my house, took out my contacts, and plopped my ass down with my dinner. My Netflix and chill date was Italian and delicious. A little saucy, though.

At 9:30 my phone dinged with a text. I was half asleep and could feel the pattern from the sofa pillow indented in my face. I grabbed it and saw a text from Niall.

“Paul is a nice looking chap . Not who I had in mind, tho .”

Well fuck this, I was no good at playing cute. Trying to come up with a way to come and ask him if he was hinting at liking me, I heard another ding.

“Want to facetime? I’ll turn on the Lumineers and sing to ya .”

Oh, fate, you’re a cruel mistress. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like right now. There was marinara on the front of my shirt, and I’m sure some on my face. I highly doubted that my makeup had lasted for 14 hours. And I had dragon breath. (I know, he wouldn’t be able to smell it because we hadn’t invented that technology yet, but I’d know.) I pondered if I could put him off long enough to take a shower, get a blow out, and properly contour and highlight my face. Instead I opted for a coy response.

“What fun would your singing be if I couldn’t play with your hair?”

“I’m not really up for FT right now - Monday slug night. Talk, though?”

One minute and 43 seconds later, my phone rang.

I finally hung up the phone at 00:18, GMT. My cheeks hurt from the smile I was rocking. At one point I'd laughed so hard as Niall told me about being chased by stadium security guards on his Segway that I got the hiccups. He, in turn, laughed so hard he had a coughing fit. “We’re a right mess, aren’t we?” he said as we both calmed down, an occasional chuckle between us. “Suppose we are. But at least we’re entertaining.” By this time I’d abandoned the living room and crawled into bed, almost purring when my back hit the mattress.

“What are you doing?” he asked in almost a whisper.

“Getting comfy. Just laid down in bed. It’s my happy place.” The silence on the other end of the line was obvious. Did I just freak him out? I wasn’t trying to get all sexy times, I just got into bed. My shirt and panties were still in place, for God’s sake. “Uh, I didn’t mean happy place like sex. Well, I mean, I guess that happens here, too, well, has happened here, but I’m just, um, laying down. Ya know, it’s late and my bed is warm.” The babbling.must.stop. “I just really like to sleep.”

His chuckle calmed my nerves. “I like to sleep, too, Z. I guess I was just thinking about you gettin’ cozy in your pajamas.” The tiny yelp noise I made echoed through my room. And the phone. But before I could get awkward, Niall beat me to it.

“Not perverted. Well, maybe a little.” I could already see him pulling at the front of his hair while he tried to explain himself. He let out that damned adorable chuckle again and continued. “I just think you’d look cute curled up in a big bed with lots of blankets. Probably one your gran made ya or something like that.”

My heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode. Unable to handle the sweetness, I laughed and said, “Do you have a camera or something in here? I thought you weren’t being perverted?” And I pulled the quilt my Grandma Bechtel made me in elementary school up closer to my chin. It scared me (in a good way, not a Jamie Dornan in The Fall kind of way) that he could imagine a scenario that was basically right on.

“I’ll keep my perverted thoughts to myself, promise. At least for now.”

Okay, well I’ll be good and goddamned if my panties weren’t on fire. “You’re testing my restraint here, Horan. I’m a good girl.”

“I have a feeling anything I say here is going to lead us down a bad path.” His voice had dropped an octave, though, and I could practically SEE the sexual tension in the air. “And, for the record, uh, I think you’re a very good girl, Z.”

Struggling to keep my heart from actually packing up and abandoning my chest, I managed to respond.  “I think I should say goodnight, Niall. Or good afternoon in your part of the world.” I barely recognized my own voice. It sounded a little higher and throatier than usual. Oh my god. It was my horny voice. I wasn’t usually in a position to actually listen to myself.

“Yeah I guess it is late there. You go and enjoy your beauty sleep. Not that ya need beauty sleep, I just mean I hope you sleep well. You’re already beautiful. Just, uh, sweet dreams, Z.”

Wow.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 3

The retirement party for our administrative director, Rose, was held at a nice restaurant a few blocks from the clinic. I’d changed into my favorite dress, a green, three season old Alice+Olivia frock I’d gotten on clearance. Due to the amount of boob that it showed, I’d added a lacy camisole to make it work-occasion appropriate. With tan boots and a chunky necklace, I felt like quite the hot little number. The wine flowed freely (none of us were going to turn down free booze on the boss’s dime) and we sent Rosie off with a bang. Paul was frantically texting me to get my ETA, and finally offered to pay my tab for the evening if I took a cab instead of the tube and just got my ass to the pub. In the car, I checked my social media accounts, and noticed that the pic I’d posted of Rose and I earlier (for a lady in her 70s she had her selfie angles down pat) had several comments. Paul whining, my mom telling me that I looked beautiful even though my lipstick was too dark (typical), and Niall asking “Where you at ?” Hold up. I wasn’t expecting him to show up for a second go round.

“Are Willie and his friends with you guys?” I texted Paul.

“If I saw yes, will you get here any faster? Or will you bail?”

“Faster.”

“Then you’re going to love this. It’s a few of your favorite things.”

A covert pic of Niall and Deo, wearing different clothes than last week, chatting with their heads turned from Paul came through almost instantly. Holy mother of Joseph, Niall was wearing a paddy cap. I had a small kink for paddy caps. In fact the number of them seen in London when I’d visited before committing to school here was one of the things that made my decision for me. I never claimed to be deep. And Paul knew this.

“Holy shit. Asking the cabbie to teleport me.”  

Instead of the terror I normally (and rightfully) would be feeling, the bottle of Pinot Noir running through me caused a surge of bravado. I didn’t scare him off, obviously. What an interesting turn of events. Even if he just liked the group of us, and really, who could blame him, it was all a bit exciting. And since I was feeling a little randy and didn’t have the good sense to be modest, I moved my jacket around and unzipped the top of my dress, wiggling around until I managed to pull the the cami over my head and toss it into my purse. I was going to go full boobage. This could only well or very, very poorly.  

Adjusting my bra so the girls were at maximize peakage, I entered the pub. And tripped on the rug. I had wanted to appear casual and confident, like everyday I walked into a room where I was known by the majority of the crowd without making an ass of myself. Like I didn’t know there was a gorgeous man who may find me slightly intriguing sitting among my friends awaiting my arrival. So much for that plan. I just prayed no one saw me. That prayer joined the list of many other unanswered ones when I joined the table and Brian yelled, “Nice wipeout, Z!” I hate him. So hard. Niall looked up from his conversation with Willie and Hannah, and gave me a beautiful smile.

“Zoe girl! You made it!” He stood and wrapped his arms around me in a quick hug. Jesus, he smelled good. Citrusy and spicy at the same time, and something familiar. I tried to steal another whiff, but he’d released me and I was being passed to Willie, who gave me a one armed hug. “Glad you’re finally here. Hannah and Paul have been chomping at the bit, and this one,” he motioned to Niall, “has been staring at the door.” What? Why would he be doing that? No time to think because Paul was yanking me down into my seat, again between himself and Niall. I settled with waving to the rest of my friends and leaning into Paul.

“Get your game face, baby girl. They’ve,” he motioned to Social Meme-ia, “got new blood tonight. Cheating tossers.”

“Dude, we had three new members last week. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

The look on Paul’s face was priceless. “Seriously? The queen of sass is calling me a hypocrite for talking shit about our mortal enemies? Those bastards are the Montagues to our Capulets!”

I mussed up Paul’s hair in affection. “Calm down, tiger. Mama's here now and I’m going to make everything taste like rainbows and sunshine, okay?”

Allie appeared across from us and asked for my order. “Can I just get a wineglass, Al? And borrow a wine key?” I dug into my huge tote and held up the bottle of (good) wine I’d liberated from the party. “You can slap a huge uncorking fee onto Paul’s tab.”

Niall looked at me, with a slightly confused look on his face. “Did you really bring your own stolen wine to a pub?”

“Yup. The stuff they have here is swill.” I accepted the glass and key from Allie, giving her a smile and pointed at Paul, mouthing, “HUGE fee” at her. She grinned back at me. “I’ve already had several glasses of wine and I’m feeling it. If I switch at this point in the game, the night will not end on a pretty note. Plus, these bottles were just sitting out at the party I came from. I figure my boss had already paid for them, so…” I rounded my eyes and blinked them innocently at Niall, shrugging my shoulders. “Also, I’m pretty much an asshole.”

He choked on his sip of Stella. “Asshole was not the term I was going to use.”

“Eh, why not? It’s the most accurate descriptor.”

Paul butted into our conversation. “It is. Used to be sperm gurgling gutter whore, but she’s worked her way up in the world. Though with her tits out like that tonight, she may be regressing.” To illustrate his point, he mimicked a honking horn. I whacked him the back of the head.

Niall just shook his head, “You are all mental.”

“Pretty much,” I responded, pinching his cheek. “Do you want to try a sip? It’s one of the best pinots I’ve had.” He accepted the glass and took a small drink, making a face as he swallowed. “No?”

“I don’t know shite about wine,” he admitted, taking a swig of his beer to wash the taste out of his mouth. “It all tastes like rotten grape juice.”

“We’re going to have to work on that, Horan. Fine tune your taste buds.”

“Lead and I’ll follow, Z.”

At the end of round one we were neck and neck with a new team playing for the first time, and Paul was fit to be tied. I’d polished off another glass and a half, and my buzz could only be described as intense. Niall and I had made a few jokes with one another, and twice I’d looked up to see him looking at me. The first time we made eye contact and both looked away. I casually pulled my dress up and cursed myself for removing the cami. I was sure I looked like the bow of a ship. The second time, he hadn’t noticed me watching him as his eyes ran across my chest and his tongue dipped out of mouth, licking his bottom lip. Shiiiiiiit. I knocked back the rest of my glass. We had officially entered the arena, gladiators, and I had no idea what to do.

I excused myself to the bathroom and was joined by Hannah. “Damn, Z. You look hot tonight. I love you in that dress.” I gave her the biggest hug in the world. “Ugh, you’re squishing me. But I love red wine Z.” We walked back to the table with our elbows linked. I stopped to chat with Carly when the announcement came that round 2 was starting. As I approached my seat, attempting to squeeze past the table behind us, Niall stood and held out his hand to help guide me in. His hand was so soft. And warm. Soft and warm. As I sat down, I realized I was was still holding his hand. Ooops.

“Do you need this back?” I asked, shaking his hand around by his wrist.

“Nah, I’m left handed. You can keep that one.” His grin could cure cancer, I’m sure of it. From my intense internet research (stalking), I knew he’d had braces, and damn it even though Simon Cowell was a disgusting piece of crap I still wanted to kiss him on his face for investing in this beautiful mouth. Around us, the quizzing started again, but I had no interest in it. I wanted to talk to Niall, personal embarrassment be damned.

“So,” I started, lifting his hand up in the air and dropping it, catching it with my into my other hand. “How do you have a tan in London in March? You’re Irish. Shouldn’t you be even paler than me?”

“Normally, yeah. I’m a ghost. We just got back from a backpackin’ trip through Asia.” I knew this. Duh. I’d seen the pictures on his IG. So much for a brilliant line. He had gripped my hand in his and started rubbing his thumb in circles over my knuckles. I felt this gesture all the way through my body and was pretty sure I was panting. I know I was squeezing my thighs.

“Oh yeah. Was it a good time?” I clearly had not had as much wine as I thought, so I poured another glass. And took a gigantic gulp.

“It was amazin’. We kind of bummed around. Got to do some of the stuff that I missed out on because I was always working.”

“What the single coolest thing you saw?” By this point I’d let go of his hand but put my elbow on the table, resting the side of my head in my hand, looking at him. My lord, he was a pretty man. He mirrored my pose and thought for a moment. “We went to this temple in Cambodia. Deo wouldn’t shut up,” I interrupted him to laugh, and he chuckled with me, “I just kinda wandered around by myself for a while. It was beautiful and I felt full. Like I was exactly where I needed to be. My mind was clear for the first time in ages. I figured a few things out that day.”

“Like what?” I was completely intrigued and had decided that I would pay to listen to him read my grocery list off to me weekly.

He gave me a half smile and a wink. “You’ll have to give me more than a few pints to find that out.”

I gave his shoulder a little push. “Tease.” He raised his shoulders in a shrug and a shit eating grin and I laughed. I felt warm all over and it wasn’t just the fact that he was gorgeous. He was charming and funny, and smart. I genuinely liked talking to him.

“So,” he cleared his throat right as a peanut came sailing over his head and landed directly in my cleavage. Behind him, Deo and Brian were fist bumping. I will have both their heads on a stick. Niall’s eyes went wide, and he whipped around. “What the fuck? Did you fucking do that?” Deo had the good sense to look chastised, though Brian was still smirking. I gave him the finger as I retrieved the offending nut out from the valley of my breasts and winged it at his face. Much to my chagrin, he caught it with his mouth (who does that? Who really does that?) and gave me a cocky smile. “Both of you need to apologize. Christ, fucking hooligans.” They muttered their apologies and walked away. Niall was still irritated. “I’m sorry. I’ll destroy Deo later.”

“No big deal. Please, you act as if this is the first time Brian has tried to lodge edibles in my boobs.”

“What is that guy’s problem?” Niall turned to me, his brows pushed together. He looked annoyed and surprisingly, protective. “You are all cool and a good time, but he seems like he lives to piss people off, especially you.”

Eh, not a subject I want to talk about with the guy I’m trying my damndest to flirt with. “We kinda have a bit of history.”

“Like you dated?”

Shit. “Like we occasionally hook up if neither of us have any other option.” I turned my face away, basically whispering the omission. I could feel the flush moving from my face down to my chest. I’m open about my sexual nature, but admitting that I have slept with a guy who Niall had just described as basically being a horrible human (he wasn’t wrong) was not my proudest moment.

“You can do better. Seriously. He’s a dick. Don’t settle for that.”

“I know. It’s just hook ups, though, and not for a while. It’s not like I’m marrying him. Or even want to make eye contact after. Total shame fucks.” I dropped my head and gave it a little shake.

He shook his head with a little laugh. “So, let’s change the topic.” Oh please and thank you. I kinda kept my head down, humiliated by my admission. He probably thinks I’m a grungy skank.

“I don’t think you’re a grungy skank,” he said, pulling my chin up to look at him.

“Oh my fucking GOD, did I say that out loud?” My worst fears had been realized. My internal dialogue was out for the world to hear.

“Yep.”

I pulled my chin away and buried my head in my arms, sighing in defeat. And smacking my forehead on the table for good measure. He reached over and rubbed my shoulders.

“Zoe, you okay?” Jess’s voice was coming from in front of me, and I lifted my head to see her eyes.

“Fine, just committing verbal suicide. Nothing to see here.” Her eyes looked at Niall’s, and she gave him a nod. He laid his head on the table, his elbows touching mine. “I’m pretty sure we’re both going to get hepatitis or some shit from our faces on this table,” he said. I let out a chortle. “There’s a laugh. C’mon, I’ve been waiting all week to talk to you. Don’t get quiet now because of that piece of shite.”

Did he just say he’d been waiting all week to talk to me? I raised my head cautiously and met his eyes. He raised his brows, and I raised mine back. He stuck his tongue out, and I did the same, adding an eye cross to the mix. He wrinkled his nose and growled, and I busted out into a full blown giggle. “No, not the nose wrinkle! I’m helpless against it.”

“I know. It’s my secret weapon against you. Now if only you’d stroke it again…”

I narrowed my eyes at him and flipped him off, and he tossed his head back, letting out the loudest, most amazing laugh ever. A choir of angels, if you will. I made him laugh like that. The smile on my face couldn’t have been bigger.

We ended up winning by a smidge, no thanks to Niall and I, as Paul kept reminding us. We’d sequestered ourselves in our own bubble, discussing movies and where to get the best Thai in London. I’d begun drunkenly playing with Niall’s hair that stuck out under his cap while he sang along to Springsteen on the jukebox. After the song was over, I removed my fingers. “Why’d you stop?” he’d stuck his lip out in a perfect pout. I was not quite inebriated enough to bite it, but I thought about it. Hard. “Song’s over. You quit singing and I quit petting.” He reached into his wallet and handed Paul a wad of cash, “Play every fucking song on there.” He took off his cap, placing it on my head, and leaned over, resting his head on my shoulder. “Continue, please.” When the Lumineers started, I swayed to the music, (while scratching his head. Multi-talented, this one.) joining him in singing. “You like the Lumineers?” he turned his head so he was looking at my face. “Mmmm. One of my favorites. Jess, Aaron, and I are going to the show in April.” He gave me a satisfied smile and closed his eyes, singing along softly. How was this moment freaking intimate, in a dirty pub surrounded by my obnoxious friends?

At the end of the night it came up that he and Deo were leaving for LA in a few days, and wouldn’t be here next week for quiz night. I tried not to let my sheer disappointment show my face, but I’m pretty sure I did a shit job at it. He put his phone in my hands, “Can we talk while I’m out of town?” It was obvious, in my head at least, that I would never deny this man anything, and typed in my number. I put let him text me his, and posed while he took a picture of me for his contacts. “I like you in my hat.” Slay me now.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 2

Shots, as I’d long suspected, were an excellent way to bond with a stranger. Especially if you were the female embodiment of Raj from The Big Bang Theory and the other person a multi-millionaire boy bander. Niall was quick witted and surprisingly smart (I don’t know why I was shocked by this, but I was. Sue me.). Carly had given up her flirtation when he didn’t buy her a shot as well. In between questions, I noticed Deo trying hard to get Carly’s attention, but she deflected with the kind of stealth only a woman who had been getting hit on since age twelve could muster. Niall picked up on it too, and we caught one another smirking. Knowing that we shouldn’t be laughing made it even funnier. From then on, he’d poke my ribs or I’d kick his ankle when something was said between the two. No one quite understood while we were hiccupping to the point of tears, and honestly, I wasn’t sure, either. But he made me laugh in a way that few people could - I was accustomed to being the one with the snark.

By the end of the third round, our team had defended its title thanks to a correct answer on Irish history from Niall. We smashed the pub’s record for consecutive victories. Jess and I stood to do a victory dance to Lady Gaga, Paul picked Niall up and kissed his cheek, much to Niall’s shock, and Brian bought all of us another round of shots to celebrate. As Paul invited “The New Crew” as he had nicknamed them back to play with us anytime,  Allie helped Brian back to the table with the small cups of purple liquor.

“What the hell is this shite?” Deo eyed the drink.

Never missing a chance to take the piss out of Brian, I stage whispered to Niall and Deo, “Brian can’t do real shots. These are purple hooters, boys. He drinks like a 14 year at their first kegger.” He gave me the finger and I threw my head back in laughter. Both the Irishmen at my end of the table wrinkled their noses with disgust (Willie was otherwise occupied with his tongue in Hannah’s mouth). I realized that all the sneezing panda videos in the world could not possibly be a cute as Niall’s wrinkled nose. And before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and touched it. Okay, I lovingly caressed it. He raised his eyebrows at me as I opened my mouth in shock. Yes, even I surprise myself with my actions (and words) sometimes. I pulled back quickly and stood up. Before I could flee, he grabbed my wrist and kissed my knuckles. Holy shit balls.

“Sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to stroke you.” His face broke out into a huge grin and he cackled. Stroke. I said STROKE. Out loud. “Oh my God. Touch. I’m sorry I touched you.”

Deo looked over, observing my freaked out expression and Niall’s face, and in a concerned parent voice, “Niall, did the mean lady touch your personal parts?” Niall officially lost it and I took the opportunity to run to the bathroom. Luckily all of my friends were too drunk and involved in their conversations to notice my escape. I locked myself in the stall and counted to 100. And plotted creative ways to dispose of Hannah’s body for this shame. Coming to my senses I decided it was time to head home. I tried to figure out the best way leave, and decided to go, fittingly, with an Irish exit. I would just grab my stuff, toss some cash on the table, and text someone when I was safely ensconsed in the back of an Uber.

The wrench in my plan was the 5’8” blonde leaning against the wall across from the ladies room, waiting on me to come out. I briefly considered slamming the door shut and climbing out of the window, but it was cold and I would probably end up mortally wounding myself.

“Hey, are you okay?” His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Well I was, because stroked was funny, but I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“No. Yeah. I mean, I’m fine. Just had to pee!” I tried to breeze past him to go back to the table to continue onto my exit plan. Why was he following me?

“Zoe, wait.” Niall grabbed my shoulder and I stopped. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. It was funny.” I gave him a bright, fake smile and started speed walking to the table. Really, it was funny and had I been an observer I would have probably died laughing. My constant putting my foot in my mouth was old, however, and as always my reaction had made it worse. I had embarrassed myself in front of one of the hottest dudes I had ever met. Time for self loathing and my pillow.

My friends were all still scattered into little groups. Niall had made his way to the bar and was chatting with Willie and Hannah. Trying to do a rough estimate in my head of what I’d drank, I gave up and threw 50 quid on the table. The Uber app said a driver was 4 minutes away, so I covertly grabbed my things and made my way to the door. When I climbed into the back of the car, I let out a sigh. Figuring Jess would be the most laid back about my exit, I texted her to tell everyone goodnight for me. I closed my eyes and let the weight of the evening and the booze hit me.

Friday was the day from hell. Trying to fill out case plans with a pounding headache was no fun, and every smell (and this was a place filled with children, so there were lots of them) made me gag. Plus I had to deal with Hannah texting me.

“What the fuck, Z?” Oy, she was starting off light.

“Sorry, dude. All of the booze hit me. I had to get out of there.”

“Bullshit.”

“For real.” Damn it, she knew me too well.

“What happened? You were getting on with Niall and then you bolted.”

“*sigh* I said something dumb.”

“The stroke thing? He thought it was hilarious.”

“1) How do you know that? 2) I touched his NOSE, too, H.”

“I know because he was worried he’d upset you and caused you to leave. He liked you, Z. A lot. And I think he liked you touching his nose.”

“Go away. I hate you.”

“Suck it. The cute boy liked you in spite of you awkwardness.”

“OMG you’re high. I knew it. They let you snort coke at lunch like The Wolf of Wall Street.”

“Slag.”

“Skank.”

“Love you.

“Back at ya.”

My hangover finally went away late Saturday afternoon, but I didn’t let that stop me from being a sloth. I had laid around my flat binge watching Transparent and napping. Oh, and Google stalking one Niall Horan. And putting myself through the masochistic pain of looking at pics of him with dates. As I assumed, all swimsuit models, but it didn’t appear he dated much. The internet consensus was that he liked hanging with his boys and possibly having short term flings. He was being 22 and having a good time, and who could blame him? Hell, I’d date most the girls he was photographed with. I knew Hannah was off base with her assessment.  

Sunday I ventured out to the shops to get some groceries and mascara. While I was putting my purchases away, a notice popped up on my Instagram. Deo Devine had sent me a follow request. I accepted and started going through his pics, laughing at some stupid ones. Within 10 minutes, a message appeared in my direct box. “Hey Zoe. Hannah gave me your account. Niall wants to follow you, too, but on his private account. Cool?” Realizing no one was around to observe, I did a small fist pump (who would deny this request? Plus I was GOOD on the internet. Smooth and flirty. Ish.) and responded that it was, in fact, cool. Mere seconds later, I received a request from a Pele Henley, whose profile pic was a dark haired guy in a jersey. Accepting, I found Niall’s private account. There were adorable pics of him with his friends, smiling and looking genuinely happy. In my (keen) observation of his photos on Google, his smile was often forced, and didn’t meet his eyes. Natural for someone who had been photographed most waking moments of his life for the last 5 years. These pictures, however, were pure joy. Dimples and smiling eyes. He only followed 24 people on this account. Why on earth would he want me to have access to this? He didn’t know me, and this material was private. However, I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip - I would never break his confidence, but I wanted more information for my personal mental file on Niall Horan. Having absolutely no chill, I liked his most recent picture, which was him and Deo sitting on the lap of what appeared to be a statue of Barack Obama. I carefully scrolled through old posts, taking great care to not touch anywhere near the heart icon - lest I end up looking like an internet stalker. He looked beautiful on a beach in Bali, funny holding a ping pong paddle, and wasted at a wedding. It was disturbing how photogenic and attractive he was. For shits and giggles I also followed his official account. If I was going in, I might as well go whole hog.

After I climbed into bed, I looked through my schedule for the week. I realized I’d forgotten about a retirement party for a colleague Thursday evening, which would make me late to quiz night. While I was thinking of it, sent a message to our group chat assuring I would be there, just delayed. Before Paul could start freaking out, I closed the app and laid down. A short time later as I tossed and turned (falling asleep was never the easiest thing for me), I noticed my phone light up. I opened the notification - Pele had liked my 2 most recent pics: the pizza Jess and I had last week at some gourmet place in Camden (tagged #basicbitches #jesshatesmushroomsandhappiness #imtoocheesy), and me posting Kevin McAllister-style with my hands on my cheeks and mouth open in front of a pic of Boris Johnson. Not my best angle, but it was funny.  Then another notification that he liked another pic. From 16 months ago. Oh my god. Niall was Instagram stalking me. My tummy did a flip as I tapped the pic - Carly, Paul, and I in Portugal on holiday, tan with drunk smiles. I reminisced on the pic for a moment and noticed he had unliked it. I imagined him realizing he’d hit the heart and freaking out (I’d done this more times than I cared to remember), frantically trying to unlike it. Too bad little leprechaun. I saw it.

All week I took care to post on IG more and with higher quality that I usually did. Monday was a selfie from the bus, my hair carefully done and eyebrows on point captioned with lyrics from “Monday Monday” by the Mamas and Papas (#really #seriously #ididmyhaironamonday). The second person to like it? One Pele Henley. Internal dancing and high fives. Tuesday afternoon I shared the brown ankle boots I’d been coveting from Chloe (#thinkingaboutit #sorryretirementfund #fancy #sofancy). As always, my friends and I engaged in banter over the posts, with Paul insulting my fashion sense and instead suggesting dominatrix books from Thierry Mugler with a matching whip, and Carly commenting on how fast I’d end up in the hospital, either from flogging myself on accident or breaking my leg in the boots. My Woman Crush Wednesday was a tribute to Hannah for taking in a lonely, troublesome American and bestowing love and friendship upon me, complimented with a picture of us lying on our stomachs on the beach in Brighton last summer, wide grins and heavy cleavage on display. It was a favorite pic of mine, because even I thought I looked hot in it. It finally garnered a comment from Mr. (Henley) Horan, “Beautiful girls !” Yaaaaaaaas. Throw Back Thursday was a picture of my first year at the clinic with my colleagues and some patients at Night Walks for Autism. My hair was back in a ponytail and I was squatting, hugging Miriam, one of my clients. It was a picture that made me happy because it reminded me of what good work we did with these kids (#nightwalks #nightwalkslondon #autism #nationalautisticsociety). A like from Pele and a comment, “Are you doing the walk this year ? Let me know !” Hmmm. This burst got me through the day with a smile on my face.

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 1

I will be the first person to tell you - there was nothing about this relationship that made sense. On paper, we were painfully dissimilar: him, a sexy, successful Irish popstar wanted by half the world, and me, an American werewolf living in London. Well, not quite a werewolf, but it took monthly waxings to keep my Greek heritage off my upper lip. I barely topped out at 5’2” on a good shoe day, and leaned more towards the plump end of the body shape spectrum. My grandmother often spoke of my child bearing hips and tried to convince me that men liked a big ass and full boobs. She had yet to be proven right. Meanwhile, his chicken legs looked like they could barely support him. He binged watched ESPN and Golf Channel, and I had zero hand/eye coordination (the fact that I played soccer in high school was a fluke - there were no cuts). Before I met him I barely even knew what a melody was and had forgotten everything I had learned in elementary school music classes. He played the guitar like he was born with it, and pulled notes out of the air to make music that made my heart ache. As I said, nothing about us made sense.

I’d moved to the UK to attend grad school four years ago, and ended up staying. After spending my first year year here alone, and going on what can only be described as a series of tragic dates with men I’d met online, I was lonely and seemingly incapable of making friends. In an act of desperation, I texted my godmother’s niece, Hannah. The one and only time I'd met her we were six. She had told me that my hair cut made me look like a boy and I tripped her going up the stairs. It definitely was not love at first sight. I’d come to London with the number programmed into my phone, but determined not to contact the now-grown mean girl. However, desperate times...

It turned out that Hannah had actually grown up quite kick ass. She did something in the financial sector I could not begin to explain, but she was funny, charming, and when drunk could belch the alphabet. Given that my previous 52 Saturday nights had been filled with Netflix and listening to my neighbors fight or fuck, I latched on quickly. Over the course of the next few years I became friends with her crowd of friends, and a few people I befriended came into the mix. It was a small but lovely urban family, and for the most part we all accepted one another for who we were. I barely missed getting laid so good that my head pounded into a headboard while screaming out for God. Barely.

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Hannah was obsessed. Seriously. I was ready to brain her. The girl had finally swiped right and found a guy she was really into. For weeks we heard about him ad nauseum - Willie was Irish, worked at a firm four doors down from her in The City, and seemed like an all around decent chap. Being bitter, I naturally hated him before I met him. The nail in his coffin came the night Hannah casually brought up his roommate, and how she thought I’d like him. Nope. Not the dreaded friend fix up.

“Stop it right now. You know that’s a hard no.” I flung a piece of baby corn at her out of my stir fry to accentuate my point.

“C’mon. He’s proper cute, and is laddy without being a lad.”

“Yeah, because everything about me screams that I’m the lad type.”

“It’s not like a new type would kill you. There are only so many men in London who live in their mother’s basements with cats.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are ya?”

“Nope. Come on. He’s a musician and he’s hilarious. I met him at their house the other night. I think you two would get on. So does Willie.”

“Willie hasn’t met me. How does he have any idea who I’d get along with?”

“Obviously he’s heard all about you and the rest of the gang and seen pics on my Insta.”

I went back to my dinner frowning. It’s not that I didn’t want to meet guys, it’s that I was scared to meet them. Undoubtedly I would say something weird or awkward, or give out far more information than they ever wanted to know. A few dudes had piqued my interest over the years, but no one that I liked ever really liked me, and vice versa. A lot of mediocre to decent sex had been had (I’m not angel - momma knows what she likes), but that whole happily ever after thing didn’t seem like reality. At 27, I resigned myself to possibly getting a hamster (allergic to cats and who wants to walk a dog in London?) and embracing my spinsterhood.

This conversation and my lack of game stayed in the back of my mind for the next few days. Hannah was right about needing a change in my scenery. Especially since the failed date with the cat dude. My eyes itched in the memory. However, it was Thursday, and Thursday was quiz night at the pub. Most of our crew usually turned out to showcase our combined hundreds of years of education and to get a decent drunk on. I intentionally scheduled a light caseload on Fridays in the event of a hangover. I may get older, but wiser didn’t seem to be coming with the territory.

As luck would have it, I stayed late with a client this evening so I had to book it from the Tube stop to the pub. I texted Paul, one of our friends, asking him to save me a seat and order me a Stella. And a shot of Jameson’s. It had been that kind of day.

A text buzzed from Hannah as I got within a block of the bar. “Are you coming from work?”

“Yup. Got tied up in a session. Be there in 5.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you trying to come onto me, perv? Work clothes.”

“That you rolled around the floor all day in?”

What the fuck? I looked down at my black jersey pants and green boatneck tee. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing, but I did spend the majority of my day on the floor working with kids with autism. It’s not like I could do that wearing cashmere and stilettos. And who the fuck was I trying to impress? Two of the guys in our crew were gay, and I’d hooked up with the straight one already. These people had seen me vomit through my nose. Nothing I do could phase them.

Walking into the bar I greeted Eric, the doorman, with a wave (yeah, I’d made out with him once upon a tequila evening) and flashed a peace sign to Allie, our favorite server. We sat the same table every week thanks to the fact that Paul worked a few blocks away and often took a late lunch/early dismissal to get here in time to secure a table. Counting heads, I noticed the numbers were off. Instead of our usual 7-8, there were 10. Oh hell. New people.

As I got closer, I noticed Hannah hanging on the arm of one of the new faces. Great, it’s meet the boyfriend time. And he obviously brought his friends. I said a silent prayer that they weren’t stupid-we take pride in our 10 week unbeaten streak. Oh well, here goes nothing.

“What’s up, bitches?” I shouted as I wrapped my arm around Carly’s shoulder.

“Zoe!” Multiple people responded in salute as I squeezed in next to Paul. The empty seat was flanked by an unfamiliar blonde head, and being me, I didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence.

“A Stella and a shot, my queen,” Paul said, gesturing to the table while offering his ruddy cheek for a kiss.

“Thank you, pookie bear.” I leaned down and blew a raspberry on his cheek.

“Zoe!” I heard Hannah trying to get my attention from three seats away. Grabbing the shot and sucking it back (oh, burning), I made eye contact with her, silently yelling for her invasion of my safety zone, and waved.

“This is Willie!” She squeezed the arm of the pale, dark haired guy next to her. He grinned, and shit, I did like his smile. He practically was a heart eyed emoji looking at Hannah, so I could check my attitude for the night.

“Hi, Willie,” I shook his outstretched hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Zoe. I hear I need to be on my toes around you lot.”

“We’re friendly savages once you get to know us,” I assured him.

Hannah piped up, “This is Deo, Willie’s brother.” Deo had eyebrows that challenged my tact, but he gave me a friendly smile. I made brief eye contact and nodded. Fine and dandy.

“And this is Niall. Willie’s roommate.” The blonde on my left grinned at me and offered his hand. Well holy motherfucker. This is why she was asking if I had changed. He was beautiful. Seriously. The scene from Wayne’s World where Wayne sees Cassandra for the first time basically became my life. I swear I could hear “Dreamweaver” playing in the background. I averted my eyes as I felt Paul elbow me.

“Hi,” I was very focused on tucking my purse under the table and adjusting my jacket just so on the back of the chair.

“Hey there,” he said. His voice sounded like the shot of Irish whiskey burning its way to my stomach. Oh hell. His (large, beautiful) hand was still hanging out there, waiting to be acknowledged. Unable to respond to basic decorum, I gave him a sideways high five. Oh my god. Paul loudly snorted into his beer as my face flushed hotter than the sun.

My phone beeped, saving me from more embarrassment. I looked at the text from Jess, sitting across the table. “Breathe, Z. And wipe the drool.” My response was the middle finger emoji. While I was texting her, Brian sent a message from the other side of Hannah, “Your game is on point as always.” “Piss off. It got you into my bed twice in the last year.” Ugh, he was pompous asshole. Unfortunately, he was also genetically blessed, so I sometimes got weak.

Unsure what to do and faced with a dry throat, I knocked back most of my pint. Sweet, sweet beer. My right leg start jiggling uncontrollably as I stared at the table in front of me. I could literally feel the heat coming off of Niall, and knew with the tight fit of the table if I turned even slightly our legs would touch. I scooted closer to Paul.

“Oi, Z! You’re on my lap. Unless you suddenly grew a cock, I’m not drunk enough for that!” Oh fuck you, Paul. I could feel Niall laughing beside me, and prayed it was at Paul’s inappropriateness and not my obvious social anxiety. Sensing my nerves, Jess stood and announced a toilet break and motioned for me. Carefully standing to not rub my ass on Niall’s shoulder, I slid behind Paul, digging my nails into his shoulder and hissing, “Another pint and shot, dickface. And this round is on YOUR tab.”

In the bathroom, Jess pulled out her makeup bag. “Okay, we need to cover up this flush. You look like a drunk sailor.” Hannah burst into the room with Carly hot on her heels. Christ, we were such a cliche.

“I can.not. believe you didn’t tell us Niall Horan was coming to quiz night, Hannah!” Carly stole a lipstick from Jess’s bag and started re-lacquering her lips. “I mean, what the fuck? We’re your best friends!”

Hannah took the compact of powder foundation from Jess and started working on my face, even as I tried to smack her hands away. “I didn’t know he was coming for sure. I invited Willie so you all couldn’t dodge meeting him. He asked if it was okay if he brought his mates.”

“Wait, you didn’t know Willie is Niall’s cousin? Do you not follow any of their instagrams? They post pics of each other all the time!” Jess shrieked.

“Yeah, I found out last week when I went over to his house. He hadn’t told me before. I assume he didn’t want a girl using him to get to cousin.”

“Niall FUCKING Horan and you didn’t tell us!” Carly continued to rage, pulling out her bun and fluffing her hair.

I stood in shock while Hannah tried to put concealer on a zit on my chin that wouldn’t go away and Jess sprayed something into my hair. “Wait up. Who the hell is Niall Horan and why are we freaking out that he’s here? Should I be freaking out? I gave him a fucking HIGH FIVE.” I didn’t know who he was but I could feel the panic rising.

All three stopped and looked at me. “Zoe. Niall Horan...From One Direction.”

“Oh my god. He’s the blonde one. I only know the name of Harry with the long hair. The blonde one is super cute.” Three pairs of eyes looked at me as if to say, “Duh.” “Omg, I’m sitting next to him. I GAVE HIM A FUCKING HIGH FIVE, HANNAH. Jesus.” The layer of powder spackling my face was now useless. My flush could heat a thousand homes during a blizzard. “Is this the cousin you wanted to fix me up with? Are you insane?!”

“Wait, what? You wanted to fix Zoe up with Niall?” Carly looked offended, and frankly I couldn’t blame her. She was the hot one. Hannah was the sweet one, Jess was the responsible one, and I was the funny one. We all had our unassigned roles, at least in my head.

Rolling her eyes, Hannah resumed my impromptu makeover as I stood, still dumbfounded. “Yes, slag. You have a boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’d drop him in a sec,” Carly interrupted.

“Anyhow, yes, I wanted to fix up Z. His sense of humor is almost as evil as hers, and she deserves a nice, normal guy.” She poked me in the chest with a mascara wand to make her point.

“Hardly normal, isn’t he?” I responded, finally gathering a few of my thoughts. Jess laughed at my gaping jaw. “Han, I’m going to die at this table of embarrassment, and even if I don’t, Paul is going to murder me if we lose because my brain is cheese right now. I can’t TALK in front of a regular guy I don’t know. Nevermind one who is fucking famous.”

“Relax, Z.” Carly finally sensed my pending tantrum and threw her arms around me. “You’re fine. And remember, Paul is an asshole if we lose at trivia. Those bastards from Social Meme-ia are dying to break our streak. Tossers.”

An hour and a half later, we were in the middle of round two, and solidly kicking ass. I still had not made eye contact with Niall, though a few times during moments of excitement, I had bounced up and down and our legs collided. Each time I yanked mine back in horror, and I could hear him let out a little laugh. Carly had switched seats to be sitting across from us, and she was all but laying her tits on the table at him. I admired her confidence. Niall appeared to be eating it up, so good for him. Two whiskeys and three beers into the night, I was loosening up. Now I could at least blame my flushed face on the booze.

“Next two questions are for our science geeks in the crowd,” Ted, the quizmaster informed us. “Yes!” Paul pumped his fist and threw his arm around my shoulder. “This is all you, Zo!”

“No pressure or anything, thanks,” I laughed. The two questions dealt with the brain, and I squealed in delight. We won top points and took a solid lead. I made eye contact with the leader of Social Meme-ia and raised my eyebrow cockily. And maybe scratched my nose with my middle finger. Take that, losers.

“Science geek, eh?” Niall nudged my arm, forcing me to look into his blue eyes that basically cut my soul. He smiled the sweetest, softest smile I had ever seen. I (thankfully) resisted the urge to caress his cheek. And I realized I had not responded and was just staring at him.

“Um, yeah. I have a biology degree.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Ni,” okay, when did he become ‘Ni’ and why was Paul bellowing in my ear? “My Zoe girl has three fucking degrees and is the queen of the science category. She kills that ‘FUCKING WANKER at Social Meme-ia every FUCKING WEEK.’”

Trying to apologize for my drunk friend, I explained, “Paul leans on me because the only organ he can name is a penis.” Did I really just say penis?

Niall’s face turned bright red and he started cracking up. “You are all amazing.”

“Thank you, Ni!” Paul again shouted in my ear, causing me to physically cover it from his thunderous drunk voice. Also, again with the Ni? Had they even spoken to one another before this exchange? I took a swig of my pint and realized he was talking to me again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you use your biology degree? What do you do?”

That’s an easy simple question. Even I can handle this. “Me? What do I do?” Okay, maybe not. He nodded at me encouragingly, and I polished off the rest of my Stella. “I use my powers for good instead of evil. I’m an occupational therapist at a clinic for autistic kids.”

“Very cool. I work with an autism charity in Ireland.”

“That’s cool.” God, Zoe. Open your mouth and let words fall out. It’s not hard. “Um, which charity?”

Allie came to the rescue with another round of pints. Niall motioned to me and himself, and she nodded in some understanding.

“What was that about?” I questioned.

“I ordered you and I another round of Jameson. I think we need to bond over shots-you’ve got a lot to say in that pretty head that you’re not letting out.” His grin split his face and I, to my own shock, found myself smiling back at him.