Have you ever heard of an elevator pitch? It’s the ability to pitch a product to someone in the amount of time it takes to ride the elevator from the floor that you leave to the floor that you get off. Being a journalist, I didn’t have a product to pitch Niall Horan. But being a journalist, what do you ask Niall Horan while riding an elevator?
“You’re the really young reporter girl, right?” Niall asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“That’s what they call me,” I said, pushing the floor button.
“Really?” he asked, “That’s silly.”
I smiled to myself as I looked up at the decreasing numbers at the top of the elevator. Eight, seven, six- then all of a sudden there was a shaking halt.
“What was that,” I said, sort of panicky.
“Well,” Niall said, walking over to the array of buttons. “It looks like we’re stuck.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening,” I said, taking out my phone. “And there’s no reception in here,” I screamed, holding my phone above my head as if that would make a difference.
“Because nothing is worse than spending five minutes with me in an elevator,” Niall said, looking amused at the amount of distress I was in.
“No, it’s just that I have a Coldplay interview I need to be at in a couple hours,” I said.
“Don’t worry, it will take ten minutes for them to fix, at the most,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’ve seen movies where this happens and it never takes ten minutes,” I said, paranoid.
“That’s because this is real life,” he said, smirking.
“I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this,” I said, walking over to the side of the elevator and sliding down the wall till I was sitting on the floor, “I’m just stressed. “ he watched me, laughing. “This is a journalist’s dream,” I said, looking up at him.
“Really?” he asked, sitting down next to me. “So now that you have my full and undivided attention, what would you like to ask me?” he asked, looking straight into my eyes. It was then that I realized just how think his Irish accent was.
I leaned my head back against the wall, thinking. “Does it bug you that you don't get an many solos as the other boys?” I asked sympathetically. I had listened to their albums the night before and couldn't understand why. He sung like an angel.
He turned to look at me, shocked, “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“I’m not just anyone,” I said. I waited for him as he thought about it.
“I think it sometimes does. I mean, all the lads have amazing voices,” he stopped to think, “I’m doing what I love and that’s what matters, I just wish that we all got to sing the same amount… but that’s management for you.”
“That’s silly,” I quoted him as I caught a smirk from the blonde boy sitting next to me.
“Alright, it’s my turn to ask you a question,” he said.
YOU ARE READING
The Bucket List (A Niall Horan Fanfic)
FanfictionShe's that crazy musical genius who received a scholarship to Juilliard, but vowed she would never play a note of music again, turned down the scholarship and moved across Canada to pursue journalism. Most people saw Summer Terrace as a lost cause...
