STORM | Niall Horan |

Heartaches

Chapter 7

“So… Tell me about yourself.”

Niall looked over at me, already drinking his second glass of coffee as I returned from the kitchen to open yet another bag of biscuits. We didn’t talk much, and most of the time it was both of us simply sitting next to each other, eating and drinking.

“What do you want to know?”

I asked in return, glancing back at him. It seemed like he was really interested in asking me about myself, and I awaited his question patiently. Placing his fingers on his chin, he looked up at the ceiling, obviously thinking. How cute he looked. Whoa, hold on. Niall was not cute. He might be many things, but cute isn’t one of them.

“Hmm… What do you do for a living?”

“I have an internship at Berkeley Industries.”

He seemed surprised by my answer and raised an eyebrow, quickly skipping over the living room once again before turning his attention back to me. “You get enough money from the internship to pay the rent of an apartment like this?” I could feel my cheeks reddening and looked away.

No, the salary from the internship wasn’t enough at all. I had a bank account from the times where I still lived with my parents, and saved most of the pocket money I got there. Okay, my hard working girl that doesn’t use her parents’ money-image is officially gone. But I do work hard, and use the money I saved on my own. Which was quite a lot.

“Um, yeah. My boss pays me well.”

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I couldn’t help it, mainly because I didn’t want to embarrass myself with the fact that I was nineteen years old, lived on my own for five months and still used my parents’ money in a way. Shame on me. I didn’t even know what to do once the money in the bank account was gone.

Niall nodded at my answer, seeming suspicious for a little moment. “Well, anyways, judging by the fact that you have an internship and not an actual job, I assume that you still go to college?” Thank god I could answer this question better than the previous one.

“Yeah. It’s my second year.”

“Which college?”

Why did he want to know all of this? For the reference, I sat on the couch at my home with a man I met two days ago and told him everything about me. I can be so dumb sometimes. What now? Should I continue telling him more about me, or not?

Gah, fuck it.

“St. Patrick’s College.”

He took a small break, before beginning to bombard me with more and more questions; my age, where I came from, my family, he was really interested in me. I answered everything, not exactly with details, but he got his responses none the less.

After a while, I thought that it was my turn to ask questions, and so I begun. What should I ask? The first thing that came on my mind was whether he had a girlfriend or not, but that would be stupid. He hadn’t asked me if I was single either, so why should I?

I bet he had someone. I mean, he was handsome, the owner of an exclusive club, and caring from what I have experienced; only his cold attitude was a little scary. My heart suddenly dropped at the thought of him having a significant other. Why did I feel that way?

Maybe I should ask him later, but in an indirect way. Anyways, as I had finally found something to ask, I turned my head towards him, smiling as he looked at me with an anxious expression. He most likely wondered what kind of question would take me so long to think of.