Irish Folk [Niall Horan/ OFC]

A College AU One-Shot

2:23 a.m. on a Saturday morning was really the most opportune time to spend curled up in a dryer, chugging a Guinness, and crying. It didn't take very long for Kimber to figure that out. She had the whole place to herself; nothing but the scent of Ocean BreezeTM and a load of colors to keep her company. Her bare legs swung from the circular entrance of the drum as she hiccupped and took another long swig of her beer.

And okay, so maybe it was a little pathetic. But what else was a girl to do when she was approximately 4,200 miles away from home in an unfamiliar city and the only person she even knew in this godforsaken town was romancing some tall blonde with huge tits and the personality of a thumbtack? Really, Kimber thought, she was doing pretty well for herself.

So with a six pack of Guinness at the foot of the appliance and a fresh set of dryer sheets, truly she was set. There was always something she found comforting about laundry. She liked the vibration of the washer and watching the foamy water slosh from side to side. The whirring of the machine was almost lulling, comforting and steady to listen to. Above all else, she liked the scent of it and the feeling of warm fabric brushing at her fingertips. It was why at her lowest point, she found herself wrapped in a warm cocoon of freshly laundered clothes, trying not to think about Harry's dumb green eyes. Kimber swallowed back a sob and brought the bottle to her lips again.

Overhead, a row of lights flickered on.

For a moment, she sat frozen with indecision on whether or not she should crawl out of the pit she both metaphorically and literally found herself in. It was enough time for her to hear the shuffling of feet, steadily growing louder as each step was taken in her direction. Abruptly, the sound stopped and she knew whoever it was had probably spotted her bare legs hanging out in the open, her top half tucked away from sight. As if to confirm this assumption, a pair of jean clad legs appeared suddenly before her. The figure leaned forward, revealing a blonde, blue-eyed boy. A furrow appeared between his brows as he took in the scene before him. Kimber blinked in response.

A sigh of relief bubbled to her throat when he straightened, his legs disappearing as he moved on. It quickly dissipated with the realization that the washer beside her was being opened. There was the soft sound of fabric fluttering, then the ticking of a knob being turned. The sound of running water began, followed by the loud clang of the door being slammed shut. And she had to ask, who the fuck does laundry at 2:23 a.m.?

She almost laughed, but the action threatened to become hyperventilation and in order to shut that down before it started, she placed the mouth of the bottle to her lips and tipped back. It worked for the time being, but a minute later the tears were still flowing and she was wiping at them with the back of her hand.

"Mind if I have one?" a voice chirped in a distinctly Irish accent.

A hand appeared at the opening of the dryer, reaching over her bare legs and pulling up a bottle. It hesitated, held there in the open air for her to survey and make her decision. Kimber eyed it warily before managing to choke out a, "Go ahead."

"T'anks," the boy murmured in response, the bottle and hand disappearing from her line of sight. She could hear the cap twist off before falling to the floor with a soft clank. Her own beer was only half-finished, but she was working her way to trusty number four. At this rate, she'd have to go out and get another six pack.

Utterly bored and buzzed, she raised a finger to pick at one of the air holes in the stainless drum. Beside her, she could hear the washer kick on. It was much harder to hear when the boy broke the silence again.

"What scent is that?" Kimber frowned at her bottle, unsure he had even spoken. "Smells beachy."

"Ocean Breeze," she mumbled.