BIRDIE | NH |

FOURTEEN

Wren

One day I won't be an overthinker.

Just kidding, I'll always think about things and keep myself up at night.

Just like right now as I lay in my bed with my hands clasped over the top of the duvet like a sick Victorian child.

It's been a few hours since I crawled under the covers but no matter how hard I try, my mind won't shut off and let me get any kind of rest.

Instead, the only thing that happens when I close my eyes is a replay of every single thing that happened at Niall's house— In high definition, director's cut, extended release.

His hands on my skin.

His lips on my skin.

His ragged breaths.

Not to mention the way it felt moving my hips in his lap like I was a horny teenager. Between the two of us, the thin pants he was wearing did nothing, and I mean nothing to disguise exactly what he had between his—

The rattle on my nightstand pulls my attention away from the heat that's once again threatening to course through my body as my phone lights up, casting a glow up on my ceiling in the otherwise dark room.

Letting out a long exhale, I rub my hands over my face as I shake my head back and forth like an etch-a-sketch, hoping it'll do the trick and erase any filthy thoughts about my boss and my fake boyfriend.

My plan was to ignore my phone considering that it's past three in the morning, knowing that I should be asleep and nothing good could come from a message this late— Honestly, it's probably a coupon code from the cosmetic line that some member of a band I used to like started.

To this day I'm not sure why I subscribed considering he wasn't even my favorite member.

Either way, I roll over with the intention of squeezing my eyes shut and counting backwards from one hundred when my phone buzzes again.

And again.

Sitting up and grabbing the device from where it lays, my eyes squint from the bright light as they adjust to see the notifications on the screen.

Niall Horan
4 iMessages

Blowing out a breath and typing in my passcode, I let them pull up on my screen.

Niall
I'm sorry.

Niall
I shouldn't have let things happen like that with you.

Niall
Do you regret it?

Niall
Are you awake?

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as my brain works overtime, scrambling to come up with a reply knowing damn well that my read receipts are on and if he's staring at his phone like I am that he can already see that.

There's a part of me that knows I should regret what happened— The same part of me that knows whatever Niall feels isn't real, that whatever is there is fake.

Only, it doesn't seem to feel that way at all most of the time.

From the time we've spent together, whether it be one of the rules Niall made or one that I made, nothing about the way we talk or have gotten to know each other feels anything less than genuine.

Even when we aren't at an event, I can feel his eyes on me whenever I step into a room just like my own do the same to him.

He's magnetic to me.