Words To Say

Oпε: Wishes

Chapter Oпε

 

Dedicated to directioner122, who also writes an awesome Nouis fic called My Sister’s Boyfriend. Love ya, Sammie :D

 

Heh, didn’t expect you to like this story that much! So thank you for that!!

Most of the story will be told from Nialler’s P.O.V. unless indicated otherwise!

 

Love, Em

~

 

 

 

  I wake up with last night’s dream still lingering on my mind.

  In my dream, I was eating somewhere fancy with—guess who—Louis. It was like The Ivy or something, I don’t know.  We were being very couple-y and super cheesy with the whole feeding each other, drinking fancy champagnes with our arms linked together, and playing footsie under the mahogany table.  I got some of the creamy sauce on my upper lip purposefully. The beautiful brunet leaned across the table, saying, “You got somethin’ on your lip.”

  “What?” I feigned ignorance.

  “Right there,” he whispered as he kissed my top lip, sucking it into his mouth gently. I pressed into the warmth of his lips as much as I could with the table between us. Soon, I become greedy for more. Grinning, I glide the tip of my tongue across the seam of his lips, demanding entrance.  He resists for a moment or two but gives in as I add more pressure.

  And, of course, just as he lets me in, the eejit of an alarm rings loudly.

  Groaning, I sit up slowly in my bed.

  Ugh, crushing on your best mate/flat mate is hard enough as it is.  But what makes it even worse is that Eleanor is a genuinely likeable girl! She has got a sincere smile, brown eyes that exude kindness and love, and nice wavy light brown hair past her shoulders. Yah, if I fancied girls, I would have thought that she is ‘hot’.

  Today, I’m due for another session with Ed Sheeran.  Even after two weeks, it seems unrealistic that I am working with a Brit-award winning artist such as Ed. He has been nothing but insanely kind to me from the start.  He really loves the suggestions that I have.  And of course, the degree I have in sound engineering adds extra pounds to my monthly paycheque, which was impressive from the beginning anyways.

  “NIALL! TURN OFF THE BLEEDING ALARM CLOCK BEFORE I BASH YOUR HEAD IN WITH THAT CRAP!” Louis bellows.  Oops, I forgot to turn it off.  Laughing hoarsely, I punch the off button.

  I roll out of my bed and grab a red Ralph Lauren polo, cargo trousers, and Calvin Kleins from the floor.  Socks are a bit more difficult to find so I make a mental note to clean up my room later, and to remind Lou that we have to tidy up the entire flat sometime in the late afternoon.  I wager it’ll be easier with Eleanor coming to visit.

  My room is an organised mess as per usual: random clothes strewn about, loose manuscript papers all over the desk, and the zip of my acoustic guitar case done up halfway. My electric is all zipped up because I haven’t played it since yesterday at the studios.  If I earned more money, I would have bought a second acoustic, perhaps with a steel-string for a louder and brighter sound. The classic-styled string is fine, but loudness has its own appeal at times.