Cold Shoulders- One Direction

Chapter 20-Epilogue

Six years. Six years I had been living here in Canada. We had actually found where the suspects were hiding. We planned to move into their hideout next week. My birthday was just coming up as well. I was going to turn 25. I'm an old lady. I wasn't happy with how old I was, or the fact that I still had yet to find a boyfriend that would treat me decently. The sleepy atmosphere of the pub I was in tonight was nice for a change. I lived in the busier part of Canada, so we never got a lot of quiet round here. I sat at the bar, sipping on a root beer. I watched the football match on the tiny television in front of me. I didn't know who I was going for at this point. I would usually just see who was better and go for them. 

I had also seen the pictures of Niall with various girls, getting me jealous. I honestly had nothing here. I was ready to go back to my real home. My USA. Where they called football soccer, ate a buttload of fast food, and where most were fairly polite. I wanted something to do with myself. Something to call my own. Find my secret talent, do something with my life. Spying hadn't exactly skyrocketed for me. It had mostly gone downhill. 

Other than that, Erin had stuck by me all these years. She carried a strong long-distance relationship with Louis. They were the cutest couple. She was literally the best friend I could ever ask for. She'd hold me when I was crying for no reason, wake me up if I slept too late, be snippy with me if I were in some sort of daze that only her never-ending sass could pull me out of. 

I had gotten a new MacBook, one that was far better than the suckass one I had from 2006. It finally had its last run about a year ago when I was searching a certain someone on Google. 

I still hadn't found a cure for my compulsiveness towards candy, or my on-and-off art phases, or painting my nails. Neither hand ever turned out right because I wasn't  born a lefty, and I wasn't right-handed anymore. That came from nowhere, for sure. 

I was still the only one in this pub other than a few teenagers who had just passed drinking age. I heard the door of the pub open behind me but left it, continuing to sip my root beer. I heard the chairs screeching at a table near me. I was sat alone at the bar, not seeing anything around me as I pretended to watch the match. Thoughts clouded my mind, making me not able to hear the low volume of the TV or see it, for that matter. I heard someone speaking to the bartender. Their voice came from next to me. I saw the bartender nod and get to work. The person sat down in the stool next to me.

"Hello." They said. I turned to see them. Or rather, him.

"H-hi" I stuttered. Niall's now perfectly straight teeth smiled at me.

I could've sworn I felt his hands on mine. But I wouldn't know. 

Perhaps it was just me.

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~~~~~A/N~~~~~

So, that's it then? It can't be. No, it can't. I'm literally not ready for this. I think I'm gonna cry guys.

Now this is the part of the Authors' Note where I hand you a gun and politely ask you to shoot me bc i'm fucking LATE AS FUCK but ah well.

Well I'll just go with my thanks first then. 

• First off, thank you endlessly for reading my story. I literally cannot thank you enough.

• A special thanks to those who were here with me from the beginning, supporting me with all your reads and votes. I love you alot.

• A special thanks as well to those who weren't here from the beginning but are now, as I love you very much even if you weren't the first to read for me. I'm so glad you all decided to join me.