The Keepers (Niall Horan FanFic)

Chapter 7-The First Encounter

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

I let out a gasp of false horror as I reach for some expensive-looking napkins on the table. I've turned straight into Niall Horan, who's now sporting some of my beverage on his previously spotless white dress shirt. There's a medium-sized stain of muted red right smack in the middle of his chest.

"Um, it's ok.." he says, looking down at his shirt, assessing the damage. "Can always..buy another one.."

His sentance trails off as our eyes meet for the first time. The lighting isn't pristine since the sun's long gone, but I notice that his eyes are almost the exact same color as water; the clear, see-through-to-the-bottom kind that looks like it's trapped the reflecting sun beams inside of it.

"Not in time for the show! God, I'm so sorry..here, let me try to..blot it, or something.." I say, attempting to dab his shirt.

"No, really, it's fine. Never liked this shirt anyway. Shame you didn't get the whole outfit," he says, smiling. I avoid his gaze and keep on dabbing. C'mon, touch my hand, I think. Or, ok, keep on smiling. I'll just ineffectively continue dabbing like an idiot.

My ruse works; I feel his hand grasp mine. "Woah, calm down there, uh.." "Willow," I say, without even thinking. One of my earliest lessons: When working, never use your real name. "Well, Willow, it's ok, I meant it when I said I didn't like this outfit..and anyways, I don't really think you're accomplishing much.." He looks at me again, still smiling a goofy lop-sided smile; my hand is still somewhat in his, and I don't try to pull it away. The longer his skin is in contact with mine, the better.

He must have seen my eyes flick toward them, though, because he releases them and akwardly looks down at his shirt again. "That's probably true, but I can't just..not even try..I mean, what kind of person spills her drink on someone who's about to go on national television?" I say, smiling and looking straight into his eyes, trying to bring him back into the conversation.

It works. He looks up, smiling once again. "Well, I'll admit, it wasn't a terribly smooth move..but a girl who's as pretty as you can spill a drink on me anyday," He says, blushing as soon as the words came out of his mouth, yet holding my gaze. It takes an enormous amount of self-control to keep from rolling my eyes.

Great, a ladies' man. Just what I need. And I used to think Harry was the only one out of his little posse of five..

Oh, what marvelous things I'm learning about the male population tonight. 

 "You mean to tell me, no pretty girls have ever spilled their drink on you? How do I know you've never used that line before?" I say, slightly narrowing my eyes and smiling a suspicious-looking smile."Oh, they have," He says in a thick Irish accent. "It's just that, well, none have ever been quite as pretty as you."

This time I almost do roll my eyes. I quickly look down and fake a smile, praying he didn't notice. Don't you dare. Don't you dare mess this up, Aster, or I swear I'll take away your vegan cake pops for a month-

"Um, look, I know we just met and everything, but, um..uh..would you, ya know, like to.." he takes in a quick breath, interrupting my thoughts. "Would you like me to escort you to your seat?"

I look up at him, searching his eyes while silently praising myself. The whole operation's gone better than expected, really. I didn't even plan on getting this much attention from him, though the red dress certainly makes me hard to ignore.

I let a smile spread  across my face. "You're sure this isn't another one of your moves?" I say, narrowing my eyes again. He smile reappears, along with a flush of color in his cheeks.

"I've only ever been to a couple awards shows, Miss Willow, and I can tell you right now, I haven't ever seen anybody like you," He says, holding out his arm. "I'm actually glad you spilled your drink on me, even if I will have to face a red-faced costume designer," He whispers, his warm breath falling on my ear. Yup, definitley the dress, I think, mentally thanking whoever picked it out.

I give him a warm smile in return, grabbing onto his arm just like I did with my previous escort. The celebrities are all making their way towards the stairs, signaling that social hour is up, along with my alone-time with Niall.

As I find myself at the top of the stairs looking down into the crowd of cameras, a message becomes crystal clear; I may have Niall smitten, but I don't have his trust. Without his trust, I don't have his secrets. I know I can get them, but there's one big obstacle standing in my way. Or should I say, four.

Time to convince the rest of the boys.