Trouble. (niall horan au)

chapter 7 - unfortunate innuendo

"Niall," I whispered urgently, tugging on his shirt hem to get his attention, "What are you planning on saying happened?"

At the moment we were currently standing in line at the reception desk in the ER of the hospital, patiently waiting our turn to register behind a man who appeared to of broken his arm. Hospitals always made me nervous, with doctors bustling around and the nagging thought of all the deaths that have occurred in these walls. Niall doesn't seem as bothered by this.

"I was just going to say you fell down the stairs or something," he replied back offhandedly.

My lips parted, "Niall!"

"What?"

"You said you had a plan," I muttered through gritted teeth, anxiously twisting on a lock of my hair- it was a nervous habit. I had sudden envisions of them calling our bluff and me panicking and trying to run.

"Next!" the lady at the reception called, peering at us from over her wire rimmed glasses.

"I never said it was a good plan," Niall whispered quickly as we stepped up. The lady, who's silver name tag pinned to her blouse read Carla, looked wearily at my disheveled state.

Niall rapped his knuckles on the desk to get her attention away from me, "Excuse me, but I'd like to register Abbey Farrell here to see a doctor. Her cut needs stitches."

"Uh-hu," Carla said in monotone, long red nails clicking away at her keyboard, "And who would you be exactly?"

"I'm her boyfriend, Niall Horan," Niall stated breezily. He gave me a cheesy, mega watt smile, draping an arm over my shoulder. "Darling," he cooed, as I ducked out from his touch.

Carla raised an eyebrow as she took in the two of us. That's when I realized another obvious flaw in our plan. Niall, with his dyed hair and dark tattooes simply radiated power and arrogance, someone that would make you cross the street if they were walking down your way. He just looked mean- always with that constant scowl. And here I was, a much smaller girl, with brown hair and freckles across my nose and more childlike demeanor. I had a suspicious cut on my head and Niall still had some of my blood on his hands. There was no way she would believe us.

"Right," Carla deadpanned, "Well, please sit in the waiting area. You'll be informed when a doctor is ready to see you."

I began to move towards the waiting area, flush with relief that she was letting us through. Niall, on the other hand, prevented me from leaving. "Wait?" he barked, "You expect us to wait? She's bleeding all over the place."

To prove his point he motioned rigidly towards the small bandaid on my forehead, that did nothing to cover the cut nor stop the blood flow.

"And that will get taken care of, once you wait." she said, loosing her bored demeanor and suddenly look nervous

"Like hell it will!" he snapped, slapping a hand on the desk and causing a cup of pencils to tip over and scatter across the floor. People nearby glanced at us in alarm by his outburst. I quickly grabbed a fistful of Niall's tshirt.

"Niall," I scolded, "For christs sake, calm down. It's fine. Jesus."

Niall stared down the receptionist for a moment longer, scowled, and brushed me off of him. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath, still loud enough so that Carla could hear and know it was directed at her. Her lipsticked mouth opened in surprise as Niall stormed off.

"It really isn't a big deal," I counseled as we sat down in the hard, ugly patterned waiting chairs in the far corner of the room. "You really need to learn how to control your temper."