Sweet Dreams (A Niall Horan Fanfic)

The Tube

He doesn't mean anything to you Samantha!

You don't like him!

Get a hold of yourself!

I was now laying in bed, my eyes staring blankly at my deep red ceiling, trying to convince myself that I wasn't developing feelings for that Irish tosser that completely violated my own personal space only hours ago. The image of him and his cocky demeanor, as well as the memory of him kissing me reoccurs in my mind over and over again, driving me to the point of insanity. All I wanted to do was get as far away from all my thoughts and memories, especially the ones about him.

You don't care about him Samantha! He's nothing to you, you have no feelings for him! The voice in my head violently shouts at me. I close my eyes, trying to clear my mind with no avail.

I restlessly turn over onto my side, eyes still closed tightly.

“But what if I do?” I whisper, so quietly I almost couldn't hear it myself.

I just couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop the tingling sensation pulsing through my core every time I imagined Niall. I couldn't stop the way my heart fluttered whenever the image of Niall's cool, soft lips pressed against my own popped into my head.

But most of all, I couldn't ignore the burning sensation of hatred I felt for the lad at the same time. It annoyed me how mixed my own feelings were for him. I wanted nothing more, than to undoubtedly despise him.

But I couldn't.

With a sigh, I try to relax myself, wanting to get some shut eye to sleep this eventful night away. I hadn't spoken to my brother since the incident at the club, ticked off that he'd gotten into a situation like that even when he said he'd try not to. I hated being mad at Joey, but sometimes I needed to be. It felt like I wouldn't be in this situation, practically drooling over some prick I didn't even know, id it weren’t for him.

After a little while I doze off into an anything but restful sleep. My thoughts of Niall only seem to switch into dreams and I dreamt about him. Dreamt about his soft pink lips kissing me all over, his cool hands gripping my body tightly, making me want more of him than ever before. The surroundings were blurry, but I could tell it was just him and I. In my dream, I was comfortable with Niall, loving how rough he was with me.

Occasionally I'd wake up, feeling uneasy due to the inner workings of my brain and my subconscious desires for the handsome Irish man. I'd run my hands through my messy hair, wishing these thoughts and feelings for him would stop, only to fall back into a troubled slumber and have the dream start all over again.

After three short hours of forcefully thrashing under my cream and black lace duvet, my alarm clock goes off. The smooth rhythmic beats of Kendrick Lamar's song “Poetic Justice” plays out of the system. I slowly sit up from my sleeping position, my head banging from the hangover I was now suffering. My body began to ache due to all the tossing and turning I'd done in my sleep, while my eyes slightly burned from the lack of it.

I reach over to my bedside table, turning off my slick black alarm before getting out of bed. I tiredly make my way to my bathroom, my feet dragging across the cold hardwood floor.

I do my daily routine, brushing my teeth, and taking a hot shower, before going back to my room. I quickly throw on my undergarments, afterward putting on a heather blue chambray button down shirt with cuffs rolled up to the middle of my biceps. I slip on a pair of black leggings as well as a pair of light blue vans.

I shuffle over to my vanity, applying a little foundation, concealer and powder along with some mascara and a little brown eyeliner. I examine myself in my mirror, my eyes looking tired and red because I hadn't gotten much sleep. My reddish brown hair had fallen from their perfect curls last night into messy waves, and being that I was too lazy to do anything at the moment, I kept it that way.