The Quarterback (narry)

four

four

The week went on as normal.

Wake up.

Work.

Bar.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Work.

Bar.

Sleep.

Wake up.

Work.

Bar.

Sleep.

That cycle repeated day in and day out until the next Sunday. I couldn't stop thinking about Harry's interview.

Normally, I did think about Harry, but not as often as I had been thinking about him. The worst part was, it wasn't even the dirty, sexual, fun fantasies. It was fantasies of if we ever got married and had children and grandchildren and a life together.

"I'll be eighty years old and playing the game with my grandkids."

That's what Harry had said. So he wanted kids and even more, he wanted grandkids. Although, he was probably talking about having children with Ruby. We wouldn't be able to have children unless we got a serget or adopted children. He didn't want to do that. He wanted to marry a woman and have a child between them, not marry a man. Especially not me.

I was just a thin, ugly boy while Harry was a muscular, tall, perfect man.

"Niall! Come on!" I heard Louis shout from my living room as I was in my bedroom getting ready to head to the bar. 

"Shut it, Lou! I'm almost finished!" I shouted back at him as I stood in front of the mirror, fixing my hair so it was up in a quiff, the blond strands sticking up and out in a messy, but some-how clean looking style. "Why are you rushing me anyway?" I called out to him, chuckling to myself when I heard him pacing over my hardwood floors.

"That's a secret! I also don't want to miss the game! Just hurry up already!" He groaned, plopping down onto my couch with a heavy sigh.

Someone is cranky.

"Chill out, Louis. The game doesn't start for another hour and I only live ten minutes away from the bar," I said, but stopped myself when I heard frantic keyboard clicks coming from his cell phone. 

Why the hell was he in such a big rush? The game wasn't for another hour and even so, we would be there before everyone else. 

 I pulled my light blue jean jacket on over my 'Styles' jersey and walked out of the bedroom to Louis, laughing when he stood up wide eyed. "What the hell took you so long? Were you doing your makeup?" He snapped and grabbed my wrist, and as much as I struggled, he managed to drag me out to his car.

"Louis, come on. Let go of me," I complained as I was crammed into the passenger seat of his car, rolling my eyes when he buckled me in as if I was a little kid that couldn't do it myself. I tried to push his hands away, but every time I did, he would smack them and tell me 'No! Stop it!'

Once I was buckled in, Louis got in and buckled himself up before he pulled away from my house. He drove away from the house and toward Champions, even though it was only a ten minute walk. He was a lazy ass sometimes.

It took us five minutes to get to the bar and once Louis parked and shut off the car, he turned to face me, opening his mouth to speak. 

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion when no words came out of hisgaping mouth, a frown forming across my lips. Usually he couldn't keep his trap shut, which is what led me to crying and throwing up last Sunday. I didn't want to do that again.