Trouble. (niall horan au)

chapter 15 - shirtless party

"Maybe we should take this upstairs." Niall said suggestively, raising an eyebrow and grinning down at me. In that moment I felt my sudden bravery deflate and let my mind wrap around the situation. Everything was moving fast- too fast.

"Ah," I replied, "Right. Up the stairs. I don't know about that, my room is kind of messy."

"Your room is messy." Niall echoed.

I nodded solemly. "Right. I haven't vacuumed, in like, weeks. So dusty. Horrible for people with allergies."

Niall stared at me for a long time without saying anything. Then, silently, he picked up my hand and pulled it up in front of his face to examine. It was shaking against my will. I attempted to pull my hand away, but he held tight, curling my fingers into my palm to try to steady the movement.

"Why is your hand shaking?" he intoned, voice turning icy.

I craned my neck towards the front door. "Did you hear that? I think a package was just dropped off."

"What are you- no, there wasn't a package dropped off. Answer me." And when I didn't, simply stayed silently and picked at a loose thread on the couch pillow, he swore.

"Oh fuck." he exclaimed, dropping my hand and instantly rolling off of me. I pulled my knees to my chest as he paced the carpet and continued to spew obscenities. "For the love of fuck." He stopped and spun around, eyes a brewing mix of apologetic and mad. "God damn it, you're scared. I'm moving too fast, aren't I? I am. What am I thinking? I got too excited. Fuck. You should be scared of me. Christ, I'm scary aren't I? I'm so fucking scary. About to whisk you off to your room. And you're so new to everything."

He clenched a fistful of lilac hair on top of his head, letting out a deep sigh. I nervously tugged on the end of my ponytail. "I think the shaking hand is just a weird twitch."

Niall didn't lift his head, but let out a small laugh. "Sweetheart. Oh lord. I'm sorry. I just, I suppose I had just been so excited to see you. See your skin. It looks so soft."

I watched him from where he stood, muscles taunt with frustration. Then I slid off the couch and moved a couple feet away from him on the opposite end of the throw rug. If somebody were to write a paper on rash decisions, they should include my next move in the first chapter. After a moments pause I crossed my arms across my front, hesitantly grasping the front hem of my shirt before pulling it off over my head. I was nervous though- hands unsteady and struggling to get the fabric untangled from my hair.

"What are you doing?" Niall asked, sounding confused. "You don't have to to that. It's fine, don't rush things you aren't comfortable with."

My grand gesture and attempt at being seductive failed spectacularly as I discovered I had trapped myself in my top. Fabulous.

I heard Niall laugh. "Sweetheart, it's okay. It's okay, calm down. Let me help you."

"I can usually take off my shirt." I replied, voice muffled through the cotton. Niall gently guided it off and tossed it aside casually, blue eyes feasting on my exposed skin.

"It's so enticing when you do that thing." he said distractedly, "You know. That girl thing."

"What thing?"

"You know, you take off your shirt by crossing your arms and doing that cute little twist move. It's so enticing, like opening a present. Or I have my own show."

Any confidence I had moments before vanished. I crossed my arms uncomfortably over my chest and glanced over to where my top lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. My bra wasn't nice, not like girls who wear the super-lacy-extra-padded Victoria secret stuff every where they go. Factoring in the whole touching thing basically meant my sexual life was non existent, so I never worried about an encounter where I would have to take off my shirt.