Paper Houses **N.H**

Chapter 7

Evelyn's POV-

The following day, my dad and sister were both gone and I hadn't known where they had went. Assuming they had gone to the store, or something, I went ahead and walked over to the Horan's. After letting myself in when no one answered the door, I walked up the stairs and quickly found what I figured was Niall's bedroom. The door was closed, but I could hear some strumming coming from behind the walls. Plus, I could tell that was the room that faced mine.

A little anxious about being upstairs in their house for the first time, I knocked on the door. From inside, I could hear the strumming stop abruptly. Only a couple seconds later, the door opened and Niall was looking down at me. He was just wearing some shorts and a white T-Shirt. It seemed pretty plain, but then again this guy didn't seem to get out much like myself.

"Hey" I greeted, careful not to look past him into his bedroom in case he hadn't gotten his stuff put away yet.

"Hey" he smiled softly. "You ready?"

I nodded.

He stepped aside and let me walk in where I saw a little plastic on the floor, but not covering the whole area. All of his furniture was toward the middle of the room so I had space to work freely.

"Where's your dad?" I wondered curiously as he closed the door behind him.

"Oh, I think they went out with your dad and sister" he went over to the bench in front of the window and sat down, not really looking up at me. 

"Where did they go?" I asked, ducking my head down to my hair fell over the back of my head so I could throw it up in a bun.

"You know, I didn't ask" he glanced back over at me. "I just know my dad mentioned lunch"

"You didn't want to go?" I started to open the can of gray paint that matched the color I had coated their walls in in their living room.

"Not really" he hummed, picking up a notebook and licking his finger to turn the page.

"Why?"

"Why so many questions?" looking up, he gave me a little smirk before turning back to his notes.

"Sorry" I shrugged, pouring out some paint into the red pan, which was stained from my previous project of the downstairs.

"I'm just joking around" he chuckled quietly. "Honestly, I just didn't want to get interrogated by your sister"

"Was that the reason?" I raised an eyebrow, climbing up the ladder.

"Pretty much" he picked up a pen and started scribbling some stuff down.

For a few moments we were quiet, him letting me work and vice versa. Every now and then he'd start humming and strumming the guitar, then would stop and write something else down. I wanted to ask him what he was writing, but I didn't want to overstep my boundaries. I knew I was here for a job, and he was also focusing on his work.

"When did you start painting?" he didn't look up and was still writing some stuff down.

I almost thought he wasn't talking to me because his words sounded so distant, but who else would he be talking to?

"I started when my mom left" I replied, running the roller up and down along the walls, careful not to get any on the ceiling. "How about you with your music stuff?"

"Stuff" he mumbled. "Uh, I've been playing guitar since as long as I can remember, but I started writing when my parents separated"

"Does it help?" I asked.