Chapter 22

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In which everyone has their own undeclared agenda and that is not all right with Fitz.

Chapter 22

I was going to throw up.

It wasn't just an uneasy flip in my stomach or a bundle of nerves gathered in my chest, either. No, there was actual bile rising in my throat, so very imminent and threatening that I turned on my heels on the porch and prepared to go home.

But the door flung open behind me, so I whirled back around to find myself face to face with Niall, standing in the doorway dressed in nothing but a loose, white sleeveless shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and a green snapback.

"Where ya goin', Fitz?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Nowhere," I replied, pushing my hair over my shoulder. Wearing formfitting jeans, knee high boots and makeup, I was no match for Niall's very casual/barely dressed ensemble.

"Then why didn't you knock?"

His smug grin was both irritating and worrisome. Gulping down the bile, I asked, "How did you even know I was out here?"

"Saw you walk by five minutes ago. Figured you would have let yourself in, or at least knocked by now. You been standing out here in the cold?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Shut up."

"You're a bit early, too. We're not expecting anyone for another hour. Liam's not even home from campus yet."

For exacerbating my humiliation, Niall Horan was my least favourite person that evening.

While he waited for my rebuttal, I offered him only a fiery glare.

He shivered as a gust of wind passed us by. "Jesus, it's freezing out here. Are you coming in or spending the rest of the night on the porch?"

With a huff, I brushed past him as he held open the door for me, hissing under my breath as I passed, "Idiot."

I'd never admit it, but I was sort of glad Niall had found me lurking on the porch in front of his house – otherwise, I might never have bucked up the courage to knock. I'd spent the entire day in a state of bubbly excitement, knowing that I'd been personally requested to show up early by Zayn to spend a few extra moments alone with him. Nevertheless, when the time came, I found myself close to keeling over with paralyzing doubt.

I was single. He was single. He'd asked for me.

It was going to happen.

Niall closed the door behind him, passing me in the entrance and gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen. Because Zayn was nowhere in sight, I obliged after removing my coat.

Their house was a boys' house, that much was certain. Flags of their favourite football teams adorned the walls of their common area, three different gaming consoles littered the floor in front of their television, and atop their kitchen cupboards were hundreds of empty cans of beer stacked to perfection.

"Now that you're here, you have the privilege of witnessing me tapping the first keg," Niall was saying. The boys had set up all three kegs on their wobbly wooden kitchen table, which seemed somewhat of a hazard to me. Niall noticed my apprehension and added, "The plan was to keep the kegs in the backyard, but after standing in the doorway for twenty seconds and feeling the chill, I've made the executive decision to keep them safe in here."

"I don't think so," came Zayn's voice as he stepped into the kitchen. I fought the urge to gasp in surprise as he entered. "They'll keep cold outside. Hi, June."

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