The Bucket List (A Niall Horan Fanfic)

Chapter 19: Surfing, Sass, Secret's Out.

I opened my hotel room door to see Louis expectantly staring back at me.

“We’re not having the luau tonight after all,” he informed me, walking past me into my room as if it was his own room with his hands jammed into his pockets, “They’re moving it to the night before we leave,” he said, staring out my window to the view of the open ocean.

“Who’s going to be there?” I asked, walking over to where he was standing.

“There’s going to be some people from management and some important people from the city... models... actors ... whoever is in town,” he calmly said, not bothering to look back at me.

“Oh. That sounds… fun,” I said slowly, walking back over to my suit case, beginning to rummage through it.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, turning around.

“Anything else?” I asked, this time not giving him my own attention.

“Umm, yea,” he said scratching the back of his neck. “Niall told you about…” he trailed off.

“Yeah, he told me,” I said, nodding. “But I’m not too worried,” I lied, thinking he was referring to being a permanent part of the band.

“Right,” he said, looking slightly confused, though I didn’t think anything of it, “Well I’ll see you around,” he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

“Mr. Adams,” I began as I took a deep breath in when I walked up to my boss who was making his way out of the hotel lobby. He turned to see who had called his name, raising his grasses above his eyes and squinting at me.

“Yes,” he said as if I had interrupted him while he was in the middle of leading his wife though labour. I instantly regretted coming to him at that time, but maybe if I asked him what I needed to he would say yes, just to get rid of me.

“I need to fly to New York sometime in the near future for a performance for Julliard,” I quickly blurted out in one breath.  He looked at me as if I had just told him that I was Hannah Montana… or something.

“What days did you have in mind?” he asked, pushing his glasses up and over his head. The abrupt question caught me off guard and I was left to stammer for a moment before I answered.

“I was thinking about the twenty-first of June when we fly out of the Dominican and into Texas I could fly to New York because we have a day off the day afterward. Then I could fly back to Texas in time for the show,” I explained.

After he gave me a long stare, he finally said, “I’ll have to talk it over with some people,” then he left me to stand alone in the middle of the lobby with people rushing past me. I stood there for a moment before I felt myself taking a deep breath in and turning around, leaving the situation with as much hopefulness and confidence that I could gather. I knew that I would just have to wait.

Before the show that night, I decided that I was going to go down to the beach and try to get more writing done. I did get some work done, though it was difficult because of the sound the waves made when they ripped across the ocean, the wind blowing through my knotted hair and the sand running across my feet made. It me want to do anything but work… or do anything for that matter. After about an hour or so, I looked up from my laptop to see the pumpkin curls that I would recognize anywhere.

“April,” I called out from my beach chair to the young girl who was walking along the shore. The girl whirled around and sure enough I saw her toothy grin and shinning green eyes that I had met in a Starbucks that seemed like forever ago. When she saw me, her face lit up.