Last First Kiss (A Niall Horan Fan Fiction) (*ON HOLD*)

Chapter Eight - Heart Attack

I tapped on Layla's door lightly and with a whoosh she opened it as if she had been waiting for me, impatiently, behind the door. I stood back, preventing the door from scraping my face and maybe possibly even scarring me for life.

"Hey, come in, come in." she said, beckoning with her hand for me to enter the house. Her voice sounded breathless and flourished. She must have been fretting a lot over whatever it was.

I stepped into her house. She was so creative and I'd always thought she should have done something with her art. Her walls we painted eccentric, bold colours like bright blue, startling red and hot pink. It wasn't really the type of decoration I would want for my house and I most certainly wouldn't recommend it to anyone else but it was if the house described her. She was loud, funny, and creative and it was just a part of her. She was an amazing drawer as well. In fact, everything to do with art was easy for her and she produced some amazing work.

I tried to start going through my normal routine of taking it all in and adjusting my eyes to the brightness so they wouldn't hurt but Layla stopped me by tugging on my arm impatiently. "Come on, Amy! You've had, like, ages to get used to this. Just quit it and get in the kitchen!" she pulled me into the kitchen, her fingers making red marks on my arm. I don't think she meant it though.

She sat down on one of the blue chequered chairs and I did too, pulling it forwards so that my stomach was practically trapped between the chair and table and clasped my hands together and put them in front of me on the table.

"What is it Layla? Whats happ-?"

Before I could finish the word 'happened' she cut off my speech and started babbling away. "He's onto you, Amy. He's back. He's angry. It's him."

I frowned, my brown eyebrows pulling together. "What?"

She opened her mouth to start talking but a red car pulled in and beeped its horn twice, quickly. It was Jared, her new boyfriend. They'd been going out six weeks now and were starting to get serious. She still wasn't over her obsession of Niall though. When she came over once she asked if she could draw him. That was awkward. In fact, she had even set a date to come around. Niall seemed enthused by the idea though but he might have been keeping a poker face and putting it on. He tried his hardest to get on with everyone I knew, however irritating or annoying he found them.

The car beeped again impatiently and Layla got up and swung her pink handbag on her shoulder. She ran towards the door and just before she left she turned around to look at me and said, "Just be careful, you know what he's like."

No I didn't know what he was like. I didn’t even know who he was. What was she on about? Was she just going crazy over nothing again? No, she didn’t do that. That was what Emma did. Layla always saw the serious side of situations and if we ever had a falling out, you could guarantee that she would be the person to sort it out.

I got up and went to my Mercedes car, sat down and started up the engine. I sat there for a couple of minutes and as I did so, the questions ran around in my head, a new possibility or query popping up every few seconds and making me shiver. Before I turned the wheel and backed out of Layla’s massive, tarmac drive, I looked over my shoulder expecting to see a dark figure with watchful, piercing eyes burning into me. But all I saw was the lamppost at the end of the street.

It took me longer than expected to get back to Niall's house because I was scrolling back through my mind, trying to pick out something, anything that could possibly be linked to what Layla was talking about. 'He's back.' 'Be careful.' 'You know what he's like.' she had said to me. Warned me. She was talking as if I ought to know who she was on about. Like I knew this person. 'He's onto you.' I remembered the look of terror and concern all over her face when she pronounced these words in particular. The look of seriousness in her eyes.