Taking The Chance [A Niall Horan Fanfiction]

// Chapter Thirteen //

I spent my Saturday doing two things I would have never thought I would do on any weekend in the fabulous city of London: schoolwork and laundry.

Honestly, I thought I would spend the weekend exploring the campus grounds or hanging around with Louis, Eleanor, Harry, and Liam around campus or in town, since shuttles from town to campus run hourly on the weekends. But Louis and Eleanor had planned a date out in the town, Harry was busy (and I didn't feel comfortable enough to hang out with him alone; we only met a few days ago), and I haven't seen Liam since the first day of school. Nathan did ask me if I wanted to go with him and his friends downtown, but I made up some dumb excuse like, "I have to study," or "I have to do my laundry." Turns out that I actually had to do those things. It was still better than hanging out with him.

I was really hoping that Niall would be online while I was studying or before I went down to the laundry room, but he never did log on. I did have the chance to talk to my parents and sister before they went to go watch a show on The Strip--I wish I could watch a show on The Strip instead of being the loner on campus--but I was stuck in the academy completing a study guide for a grade for English I that I could do in my sleep, taking notes on "The Nature of Science" for biology, annotating some poem for British Literature, and doing Pre-Calculus problems.

By four in the afternoon, I had finished everything except my homework for Pre-Calculus; I had a minor migraine from all the work I had done before. Now would be a good time for a break. Grabbing my laundry basket, I walked down to the laundry room which was in the hallway where I got scolded by Dean Payne (I shivered a little bit passing by the tables still in place). I entered the midsize room, wall to wall with washers on the top row and dryers on the bottom row, folding tables in the middle of the room, a flat-screen TV mounted on an unused portion of a wall, and a couple of leather couches off to the side to relax on while the clothes were being cleaned. I was shocked to see how many machines were in that room; there were more machines in there than there were at a laundromat!

What was even more shocking was that I wasn't the only person in the room. I wasn't a complete loner on campus!

A teenage boy stood with his back turned from me in front of one of the dryers on the far wall. He was wearing a denim jacket, jeans, and clean white sneakers. His skin was a darker shade and he had some facial hair on his chin. The front of his thick black hair was styled upwards and shaved on the sides. He stared down at his phone, thumbs typing a text message. He didn't hear me enter the room, the click of the door drowned out by the dryer's drumming.

On my tiptoes to make sure I don't bother the boy, I walked to the farthest washing machine away from him and loaded my clothes in. I glanced over my shoulder often at the teenage boy, but he showed no indication that he knew I was in the room. With no phone to text someone with or play mindless games on, I took a seat on the leather couch and grabbed the remote. I never watched much TV; it was only on for background noise while I was on my phone or laptop, so I was surprised when I felt the urge to watch TV. I pressed the power button on the remote, but nothing happened. I tried again, pointing directly at the TV and pressing the button multiple times. Still nothing.

"The telly doesn't work," a rough British accent pointed out. "It broke last year. I guess administration was too lazy to replace it."

I looked up and saw the teenage boy leaning on the edge of another couch. Another handsome British guy. I really need to move here. I noticed he had a nice smile, although I only saw it for a few seconds. His eyes were brown and bright, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Oh," I paused to put the remote down, "thanks for telling me."

"No problem," he nodded, taking a seat on that couch and resumed his attention to his phone.

Silence clung to the air between us, apart from the occasional taps his thumbs made on his phone. Well, this is awkward. I stared at my poorly-painted nails to avoid the uncomfortable silence… to no avail. Sighing, I turned to the boy and smiled. "Hi, I'm Mara." I extended my hand.