Trouble. (niall horan au)

chapter 29 - the reveal

"Fine," Niall said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the cramped motel bathroom, "If you're not that drunk, say the alphabet backwards."

I met his eyes in the mirror, pausing to wring out my wet hair in the sink. "Uh. Z, X, Y, um, B-"

"B is at the beginning of the alphabet."

"Damn your sorcery," I exclaimed, shaking my fist at him, "Nobody can even do that sober. You try." And he did try. And did it perfectly. Twice. And then again in French. I huffed, annoyed. "Show off. That's black magic like I've never seen."

Niall laughed and leaned back against the tiled wall, all strong arms and wet hair and tired eyes. It was late, like 2 pm late, the time for insomniacs and mischief makers. Or, the time for a (only kinda) drunk girl and effervescent boy in a rented motel room to like each other a lot and try to figure out what to do with all of it.

We had just returned from the pool and had taken (separate) showers, since the water had left a slimy film coating over our skin, a fact I tried not to think much about. Niall had ran to his car to see if he had any extra clothes in the trunk. Unfortunately, all he could find were the clothes Zayn and his girlfriend Becca had left in the backseat after they, as Zayn liked to so often describe it (much to our distaste), made love while they waited for Niall and I to come back out of the grocery store. We returned too soon, apparently. (I remember closing my eyes and dropping the bags; Niall chased them out with a window squeegee).

"Cute," I said in regards to the neon tank I now had on that said 'I'm a good girl that swallows and never spits' that belonged to Becca. "I always swallow my drinks though. Wanna see me drink a glass of water?"

"I really would," Niall replied solemly, adorned in Zayn's usual I'm-a-hip-artist-slash-cool-skater-guy black shirt with some vague band name on it. "But that's not exactly what it means."

"What?" I said, then read it again. Niall looked down subtly at his crotch. "Oh," I exclaimed, "OH. Dear god. I didn't know you guys like- jazzed in a cup, then expected girls to drink it without spitting, like-" I chuckled, "Like, can I get a lemon wedge please?"

Niall face palmed so aggressivley it looked like it hurt. He then explained something to me. I was horrified.

"Oh sweetheart," he said after the brief sex ed lesson, "You're just so-"

"Naive? Prude? A model for abstinence? Possibly the only female of my age and relationship status who has never feasted her eyes on a mans diddly dangly."

Niall's lips puckered like they did when he was trying very hard to take me seriously. "I'm trying to not sound overtly romance-story cliche, but you're just so innocent." He spit his gum into the trash can, still managing to look attractive. "I realize now why guys like 'innocent girls'. Because we're all a bunch of fucking sickos who like to explain innapropiate things;"

"We should watch a movie," I shouted several minutes after that startling revelation, as Niall moved behind me and began towel drying my hair to stop the aggressive dog shake I had been previously doing.

"Bed," Niall deadpanned, pausing to work his fingers through an unruly tangle.

"How about an erotic horror film," I suggested, bouncing on the heels of my feet, "Because I'm not tired. I think we should also play hide and go seek or-"

Niall stopped and looped the towel around my waist, spinning me around and basically lassoing me towards him. He pressed a single finger to my open mouth. "You've reached the high energy stage of your drunkenness," he examined, tightening his hold on the towel to control my rapid movement, "Which means you're about to inevitably crash and burn. Besides, you hate horror. And erotic. You like glitter and skipping in public places. Now, bed."