Daytona Baby [N.H]

48

Olivia Campbell

I woke up alone. Niall never came to bed last night. Even after the way he acted I still wanted to feel his arms around me, roll into his body where the mattress dipped from his weight.

Apparently I was naïve in my hopes that he would sneak into our room sheepishly, saying he's sorry for being so harsh and he loves me.

Instead I slept restlessly, curled up on the left side of the bed, chilled by my solitude.

How could the best night of my life turn to shit in the blink of an eye? One minute we were kissing, laughing and dancing; the next we were yelling at each other on the balcony after Niall tried to fucking shoot Oliver simply for talking to me. If I didn't step in, he might've killed him. I think that was his intention.

I had plenty of time to think about it all last night while I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep without Niall next to me, and I'm still left with more questions and no answers. The first being whatever Oliver was about to tell me before Niall showed up. Something important he thought I had a right to know. The truth, he said to Niall.

I'm still uncertain if that's what upset Niall so much, whatever Oliver was going to tell me, or if it was his presence in general. I doubt he would've reacted that way had I been casually making small talk with a stranger. They clearly have history.

But that doesn't excuse his behaviour. Not until I get a proper apology and explanation, at least.

It blows me away, the audacity of him to yell at me and try to tell me who I'm allowed to talk to or not. Maybe if he explained his background with Oliver, I could judge for myself if he's someone I should bother conversing with. But when Niall spoke to me like a child yet again, and I've only had pleasant conversations with Oliver, it becomes clear who I should be upset with right now.

Just when I thought our relationship was starting to head in the right direction, it takes a turn for the worse.

I took my time getting up, allowing myself to lay in bed until late morning. Usually I'll open the curtains right away, but today I didn't bother. My head was pounding and I was in desperate need of some water. I trudged my way into the ensuite and sighed at the sight of my tired face in the mirror. It's becoming more and more familiar. I open the cupboard in search of Advil or Tylenol and found none. But I found some type of painkiller that instructs I take one. I popped two in my mouth and washed them down with water from under the tap.

I'm not sure what my approach should be when I see Niall. Ask him to talk? Ignore him entirely? We'll need to have a chat about this eventually. I can't avoid him for long. And it'll be nice to finally have some answers. I'd like to think I've been an open book with Niall in terms of my family and past, but he's a fortress of secrecy I have yet to break through. Maybe today is the day.

I threw on shorts and a tee shirt that I quickly switched for a different one before I was brave enough to leave the room. A foreboding silence lingered through the apartment. I wondered momentarily if I was alone until I saw Niall sitting on the couch. He was staring off into space, seeming deep in thought. If he noticed my presence he didn't acknowledge it.

An unsettling feeling grew in my stomach, anxiety making itself at home, and I walked to the kitchen quietly. I became hyper aware of my every movement, every sound. The creak of the cupboard door, the clink of one glass against another, the rush of the faucet. Niall hadn't moved. His silence was unnerving.

I took a few large mouthfuls of water and poured the rest in the sink. I turned around and leaned back on the edge of the counter. Where Niall was kissing me last night, whispering in my ear that he was addicted. I'd better get this over with.