Chapter 23

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Niall's POV

"So, Niall, what do you do?"

Her question threw me off guard.  Why, I couldn't say, knowing that at some point she was going to ask or find out some other way.  I sat there, quietly for a moment until I felt her eyes on me.  When I looked at her, I slightly panicked.

"Niall?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Hear what?" I played like I didn't.

"I asked what you do for a living?  Or, are you in school?  What brought two Irishman out to LA?"

"Oh, well, Mully is actually aiming to do the same thing as you.  He recently opened up his own restaurant."

She perked up at that, "Oh, so maybe I do need to be talking to him?"

"Yeah, he could offer you some great advice on what not to do." 

She laughed a little.  "I'll keep that in mind.  And what about you?"  She turned in the booth a bit more so she was facing me directly.

I looked away for a moment, taking a sip of my drink, before deciding I needed to just be open and honest, especially since it's what I needed from her.  "I'm a singer."

"Yeah?  Anything I would know?"

"Uhh, perhaps."

"Sooo, like what?"

"Umm, I am the one responsible for Slow Hands, probably my biggest hit."

"Slow Hands?  Seriously?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

She backed up a bit an odd expression on her face.  "I'm sorry but I have to do this," she said before she slapped me, not hard, but playfully, on the arm and then the face.

"Hey!  What's that for?" I said, holding my arms up in defense.

She laughed, "Sorry, I love the song but I hate that one damn line about laundry!  It makes me think you were too lazy to wash your clothes!  I have literally joked about smacking you for it if I ever got the chance.  And, look at me, I don't even recognize you when you're right in front of my face.  Although, to be fair, I don't entirely know if I even knew what you looked like."  She laughed a little at that and then stopped.  "Shit, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have hit you."

"No, it's okay, you did it playfully, I could tell."

"No, but still, I shouldn't have actually done that.  Joking or not."

I reached out and placed my hand on her knee, "It's okay, Ophelia.  Really.  I've had a couple of people question me about that line."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, honest."

"So what the fuck does it mean?"

"Nothing really.  I mean, I guess, it's meant more for how you go out all night and your clothes aren't necessarily the most clean by the time you get home...or, by the time you get to the other person's place and you're, uh, working up a different kind of sweat?  I don't know.  I honestly didn't think too much into it.  I liked it so I stuck with it. I need to stop talking now," I said, getting embarrassed.

"No, you're okay.  But, still, sorry for slapping you."

"Stop saying you're sorry.  You meant no harm in it.  New topic, please?"

"Okay."  There was a bit of silence.  "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"You."

"Me?"

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