Treacherous

Chapter Twenty-One

Just as I sit down at the counter, about to tell Niall my idea, it leaves me. As if it was never there. The smile I had on falters and turns to a frown.

I remember having the idea, but I don't know what in the world it was.

"Are you okay...?" Niall asks when I begin rubbing my temples, trying to ward off the migraine that I can feel coming.

"I don't know," I answer, wincing at the volume of my voice.

He moves to stand behind me, massaging my shoulders as I hold my head in my hands. Why can't I remember my idea?

I've had slight memory problems like this before. Like when you walk into a room, but forget what you were going to do. But this is different. Most of the time I have a general idea of what I was thinking, but this, this isn't the same.

It's as if I never had the idea at all.

"What's wrong, babe?" Niall whispers, leaning in closer to my ear and pressing a kiss to my neck. I reach my arm up behind me and run my fingers through his hair, messing it up inconsiderately.

"I-I can't remember," I say, dazed.

He tenses at my words and leans away from me neck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't remember my great idea." I close my eyes and think as hard as I can, searching my brain. But it's just not there. Every single trace of it is gone.

"Well, that's not too bad. At least you didn't forget me. We can think of something else to do." He immediately waves it off as nothing, but I know that it's something.

Not wanting to worry him, I shrug it off as well and swivel the chair around so I'm facing him, my migraine now long gone.

"Alright, so what's another good idea on what to do today?" I ask, running my hands up and down his arms. "Maybe the park?" I suggest when he doesn't say anything for a while.

His muscles go rigid at the thought of going out in public. "I-I don't think that's a good idea."

I sigh. "Come on, Niall. You can't keep me locked up here forever."

"I can try," he answers shakily, sniffling at the end. "God, I cry too much. I'm such a pussy."

I giggle at his choice of words, but stop as soon as the seriousness of the conversation dawns on me. "Sorry, sorry."

He laughs. "You're fine. I feel a little better now. Your laugh makes me feel good, especially when I'm the one who causes it." I smile, but lose it as soon as I feel his hands land on my hips, fingers arched.

"Don't yo-" Before I can finish, his hands attack my stomach and hips, making my eyes fill with happy tears and giggles stream uncontrollably out of my mouth.

"S-stop!" I gasp out, hardly able to breathe through the little breaths I'm able to take in as he tickles me.

"Aw, but you look so cute squirming around and spazzing out like this," he teases, all while dodging my failed attempts at swatting at him.

"P-please! I c-c-can't!" I scream, struggling to stay on the chair. My back presses up against the back of the chair and I throw my feet out in front of me, trying to kick Niall away from me. But him and those dang long arms of his somehow are able to reach around my writhing legs, still assaulting me with his fingertips.

"Sure you can." His Irish accent makes that statement all the more adorable.

Finally, what seems like ages later, he stops. "Alright I think that's enough. Don't want to tickle you to death."