Lost & Found (a Harry/Niall fanfiction)

VI: Indecisive

My face registers shock. “What?”

“You heard me.” Louis’ face becoming the familiar smirk of Harry’s I know. “Kiss him.”

“B-but I can’t,” I sputter out.

“Somebody shy?” Zayn teases me. I narrow my eyes at him.

“No, but-“

“No reason not to!”

I look at Liam pleadingly. He gives me a slight shrug. He understands the situation I’m trapped in, but he doesn’t make any effort to help me. Thanks, Payne.

Niall gives my hand a squeeze, giving me his permission. I take a look at that pair of vivid blue eyes, inquisitive and trusting. Oh, Niall. He’d never understand what my true fear was: not that one kiss would mean cheating on him, but what would come after as a result of that kiss.

I finally give in, accept defeat. “Fine, but one kiss.”

Harry’s been watching me, a bemused expression on his face. I crawl over to him, across the circle. I stop when I’m so close to him that I can smell his overpowering cologne and see the sweep of his dark eyelashes. I take a shaky breath, closing my ears, preparing myself.

But it’s him who initiates contact. Putting hands on my hips, drawing me to him, he captures my mouth with his. Surrending myself to the sweet taste of his mouth, giving his imploring tongue entrance. Enjoying the feeling of his hands as they wander up and down my body, the warmth that radiates from him. I want to stay in this moment forever, feeling the electric jolts through my body with every touch of his, every movement. But I can’t. I sense Harry holds himself back in that kiss, restrains it from spiralling out of control and becoming rough.

When I pull away, they’re all staring at me.

“What?” I ask, flustered. Harry sits back, a smile playing on his lips.

“Nothing,” Megan smiles sweetly at me.

Thankfully, I don’t get chosen. The next hour or so results in Niall removing his trousers, Megan forced to kiss Zayn (not that she protested too loudly), Zayn chugging down a keg of beer and Harry confessing to my next door neighbour he was madly in love with him. Him. He knocked on the door, only to face a disgruntled-looking man with sweat stains on his clinging white vest, and a goatee.

The consequences weren’t positive.

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“I’m exhausted.” I flop back on my bed, next to Megan.

“I’m not. I could kiss Zayn all night,” she sing-songs.

I groan. “Spare me the details.”

“Oh, I won’t.”

It’s four in the morning, and due to Louis being physically unable to stand, Megan suggested the boys stay over. She relished the reaction I gave, and the thought of only a wooden door separating her, and Zayn Malik.

In the end, I had to admit they weren’t in a good state to be able to drive back to their hotel, where they were staying. Somehow managing to think ahead, Liam contacted their manager, explaining they were staying over at a ‘friend’s’.

Currently, they’d set up camp in our living room. We’d gathered all the blankets, cushions, pillows we possessed and given it to them.

Five drunk, rowdy boys equalled trouble. Megan sent me to ‘check up on them’, and I’d discovered Louis had started a pillow fight with Niall. Tackled to the ground, Niall’s mercilessly beaten by Louis with a pillow, shouting, “Give in! Give in, Irish!”