Niall Horan Imagines

Mr. Horan

With your legs crossed politely and your hands folded in your lap, you nibbled on your lip while letting your eyes wander around you. The lobby was pristine, without a single thing out of line. The silver-rimmed clock hung perfectly centered on the wall above the desk. All the women behind the desk wore matching smiles every time someone approached them. Even the typing of their keyboards seemed simultaneous.

After a few moments, a deep sigh slipped past your lips. A receptionist glanced up at you, flashing her routine smile when your eyes met with hers. Your facial expression fell and you dropped your eyes. You were growing more impatient as time passed. Part of you considered just standing up and marching right out of that building. But a better part of you convinced you to stay right where you were, because this was a largely successful business that could offer a fine job for you, if you were to get hired. That was why you found yourself planted to the cushioned seat in the lobby - because you needed a job.

But you sure had been waiting a long time. When getting the phone call a few days earlier, you were thrilled to hear that the employer was interested in an interview with you. The interview was scheduled for one o'clock, but as you glanced at the square-shaped clock on the wall, you confirmed that it was going on 2:00. Your patience was hanging on a very thin line.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A receptionist chirped, raising her head from behind the tall desk. That smile was plastered to her red lips as she nodded at you, asking, "Are you Miss (Y/N)?"

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet. "Yeah, that's me," You casually replied. You were being a bit bitter, especially in thinking that you wanted to slap that ridiculous smile right from her face. But it was only because you'd been stuck in the same lobby for an hour longer than you expected to be.

"Great!" She beamed, ignoring your sour attitude as she stood and moved around the desk. Holding a green folder in her arm, she approached you while saying, "If you'd just follow me. Mr. Horan will speak with you now."

"Mister - who?" You questioned, but followed her, anyway. No one had ever bothered to mention that name of the person that would be interviewing you. The woman took quick steps, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked. You jogged a little to catch up with her. She led you down a long hallway, filled with offices. You couldn't help but to peek into each open door you passed. The employees hidden behind doors didn't smile like the receptionists did.

"Nobody told you?" She asked with a giggle. You were walking beside her now. She grinned at you from the side before coming to a stop at the very end of the hallway. Directly in front of you was a window, but to the right was an open office door. "Mr. Horan is our boss," She explained, "He'll be interviewing you today. Everyone kind of falls at his feet, you know? You'll understand as soon as you see him. He'll be with you in a minute." She motioned for you to enter the office to your right. You hesitantly looked at her before stepping inside. She closed the door after you. You jumped at the sound of the door clicking shut.

You were stood in the middle of what quite possibly could have been the most drab office you'd ever seen. There was nothing special about it. In fact, it was really just a desk with a few papers on it, and a pair of chairs. There was shelving around the perimeter of the room and a filing cabinet to the left of the desk. The desk was wooden and had a leather office chair behind it, and behind the office chair was a window with closed blinds. On the opposite side of the desk was the other chair - one that looked similar to those that rested out in the lobby. You folded your hands in front of you, rocking on your feet. With your lips pressed together, you awkwardly looked around the room, unsure of what to do.