Lights (Niall Horan)

eight

Niall Horan

This is it.

I glance out of the airplane window into the white, fluffy-looking clouds, wishing the plane could fly faster.

I'm into my fourth hour into the flight, flying from Pasadena to Ohio. The plane should be landing soon, maybe in another hour or so, and I'm getting anxious.

All around me, I hear people ordering fancy beverages and "gourmet" dinners, although we're just about to land.

Yeah, I'm flying in a regular aircraft with everyone else. Just a normal lad on a normal airplane.

Except I'm in first class, flanked by a random burly security guard.

I wish Paul was here. At least he's fun. But he's off enjoying his well-deserved break too.

As for the rest of the lads, Harry has gone home to Holmes Chapel, Liam to Wolverhampton, Zayn to Bradford, and Louis to Doncaster.

I'm scheduled to fly out to Mullingar in a few days, but I'm hoping to recruit Anna to come back with me.

It's part of a secret plan of mine.

Based on what she's told me, and the boys' encouragement, I honestly believe she'd love Ireland. She seems like the type of person who doesn't ask for much and loves simple, charming things.

And Ireland is the perfect place for that.

But I'd also like to introduce her to my parents.

I know, huge step--especially considering that we're not even dating. But I think they'd really like her, and probably invite her back themselves.

She's everything they hoped my future wife would be.

Wait, did I just say that? Or... Think that, rather?

I shake my head, attracting the attention of the nearest flight attendant by accident.

She frantically scurries over to me with a worried expression on her face.

"Everything alright, Mr. Horan?"

I instantly redden. "I'm fine, thank you."

I hate being referred to as 'Mr. Horan.' I'm 19 years old, for Christ's sake.

And to make matters worse, everyone says my mental age is 13.

I can see their point. I go crazy over Nando's and all.

Or any food, for that matter.

But I shouldn't complain. Our Directioners are so unique to think of that.

And also because Louis's is 5.

I recline back into my seat and sigh. I better pay more attention to who's watching my every move, or else I could get into serious trouble. Management is always on our case about that.

I turn my attention back to the tiny television screen in front of me that I paid $7 for, but I can't focus on anything.

Man, am I hungry.

There's thirty more boring minutes left, and no chance I'm going to eat any of that terrible airplane food.

This is pure torcher.

I just want to get off this airplane and see her again.

Anna Holden

Through my sunglasses, I scan the swarm of people surrounding Baggage Claim for any sight of Niall or his light-blonde-colored-hair.