Maybe, a dream? // Niall Horan

Chapter 40: Fun day at Interview

NIALL'S P.O.V -

"Ready for tour, huh?" Kiarra talked as I was just looking for Far. I don't know what she'd be thinking of me, probably of killing. Joking, though.

I was not even listening to Kiarra's bragging for an hour until Ed came to me, and told me that it was time for the stunt. So I practically tore myself up from Kiarra's strong hold and floated through the tent in search for her.

I found her taking to one of my friends, Michael Clifford as he was looking confused. I narrowed my eyes at the sight in front of me.

I started to run towards the duo when I found my ex girlfriend practically leaning in- probably to kiss my friend.

What the fuck is wrong with her now?!

I instantly grabbed a hold of her elbow and tugged her towards my chest. My body heaving back because of the force she came back to my chest.

"What are you doing?" I whispered in her right ear. I agreed that I wouldn't be mad at her for doing this. Because its her life now. She could do whatever she wanted. I wasn't her boyfriend anymore. But that wasn't the problem. Paparazzi were here and she was here to commit a public stunt with me. Not with Michael.

She turned to look at me, eyes widened and mouth agape open. "Niall?"

Her eyes were not focusing on anything. That meant she was drunk. God, she said she wouldn't drink today.

"Let's go." I took her hand in mine, which sent electric shots ran up my body. Oh my God. I still had feelings for her.

"Where are we going?" she squealed and squirmed her hand away. A frown took its place on my lips at her movement.

"It's time to do the stunt." I said. Michael had ran away to one of his band mates and I didn't care at the moment. I just had to get this over with.

"What?" Just as she said this, my phone ran off.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone.

FARIHA'S P.O.V -

I know what I just did was stupid and mean, but I was drunk and tipsy.

What can I say? I just had to.

I just watched him as he talked to the person over the phone. Just how his eyes would crinkle in the moonlight, and his eye brows would rise whenever he'd try to focus the words other person is saying. How his lips would move faster, to pronounce the words. How his thick Irish accent would suddenly turn into English accent and then back to Irish accent. His hair were up in a quiff, which always looked good on him.

"Okay, that'd be good. Yeah." He cut the call and looked at me. His eyes shined brightly; as if he was happy. Why was he happy?

"Are you happy?" I asked bluntly.

"Um- I don't know. Why?" He answered slowly.

"Your, your eyes. They crinkle whenever you're happy." I told him honestly. No need to hide now.

"Really?" He asked slyly; amused on my observing.

"Yeah. Sometimes they are deep blue. But when you're angry, they turn almost black. It's scary." I shrugged.

"Oh. I seriously don't like to get mad, or angry. With you specially." He murmured, coming closer to my face.

"Then don't."

"But you make me mad." he replied.

"I don't. It's-"

"No need to hide, love. You do things that make me mad. Like the thing your pulled out minutes ago. I had every right to be mad. But I didn't." He spoke calmly.