Party Of 1 (A Niall Horan Fanfic)

Chapter 15: Drive Darling

[A/N so maybe I am writing in Rory's pov again]

*Rory's POV*

We drove through the city in silence. Buildings and lights whizzed by as we passed them, the sky dark and full of stars.

I wanted to ask Niall questions like you normally would if you had just met the, like: What's your favorite color? Your favorite food? Favorite store? Favorite... everything? But I already knew all the answers to those questions, so I didn't say anything. Soon Niall pulled into a posh restaurant known for its extravagant and overpriced food. Niall's GPS beeped. "You have arrived at your destination."

Niall opened my door and I got out; he handed his keys to the valet, nodding. He put his hand on my elbow, guiding me towards the front. Niall gave his name to the hostess, and she lead us to a private back room. I felt odd; why weren't we sitting out in the open like the other people with expensive outfits and expensive wine? I felt extremely under dressed in my desert boots and button up shirt that used to be my fathers. There's a couple holes spread throughout my jeans, only making my outfit look more irregular; may as well have a neon sign on my head. 

I mean, it isn't my fault; Niall didn't tell me where we were going, so how could I have known?

Niall cleared his throat, tearing my attention from the thoughts inside my head. 

"I said it earlier, but you look beautiful," he says, looking at me. He doesn't move. Neither do I.

"Thank you. You look great too."

The light from the restaurant catches his face like a picture, and if there was never anything important I ever had to do, never anything to worry about, I would stare at it forever. His eyes glint more than they usually do, full of hope and wonder. At seldom times like this I don't think of what kind of clothes I'm wearing, or if my hair is looking okay, or even if my breath smells bad, because I know that the person I'm with doesn't mind. Whether it be Adam, or my mother, or Sydney. Or Niall. 

He smiles, a dimple on his right cheek displaying. I smile back, because how can I not? 

"So, Rory Harper. Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything." He takes a sip of the water the waitress brought, a ring on the table dancing from the droplets it left behind. 

"Well, Niall Horan, you're going to have to be more specific," I say, leaning back in my chair. I sit back up, crossing my legs, because that's how proper ladies sit, and Niall Horan, global phenomenon singer of a boy band is sitting across the table from me. 

"Alright, well, what do you want to be? What do you plan on doing with your life?"

"Haven't completely figured it out yet. I want a media broadcast technology degree and a minor in web design. I've been thinking about it since eighth grade," I say. And it's true. Ever since I saw that those specific degrees were available, though there aren't many options college wise, I've been infatuated with it. "But I'm not sure anymore."

"Why's that?" He asks.

"My father wanted -encouraged- me to get these degrees, get into that college. And now, I'm not so sure. I think... I think I want to do whatever happens. You know? Like, whatever comes my way I'll take. I mean, I've already taken media and web design classes so even if I didn't go to college I would still be able to do something I love."

The sliding door to the room opens, and the waitress, Stephanie, asks us if we're ready to order. Niall says what he wants, and then I do. I tried not to go with something expensive, because again with the hotel ordeal, I just can't accept things from people, even on dates. 

"Right, where were we? What's your favorite color?" He asks, turning back towards me. 

I pick at the frayed fabric of my jeans. "Green. It's always been green. I love the color, every shade is mesmerizing." I look back up at him, and he's still looking at me like he was earlier: full of hope and wonder, though I don't know what for. 

I almost laugh because of all the time I spent in my room wondering whether or not I was ever going to meet One Direction. Or any of the boys. And here, right in front of me, is one of them. I want to physically touch him, to prove that he is real, but that would be maladroit and make things awkward so I don't. How many girls daydreamed of happy lives with them with four kids and a butler and a mansion? Too many to count. How many girls genuinely believed that themselves and one of the members of the band would run into each other like Niall and I did? Probably hundreds. Yet here I am, after daydreaming those exact things. Except now they're partially true. 

I don't know when I became so enamored by these five boys; by Niall. Maybe it was because they didn't win XFactor, and they didn't win every award they were nominated for, and not everyone liked their songs; maybe it was because they cared about their fans and they cared about staying true to themselves rather than letting fame get to their heads.

Maybe it was because the media made them out to be someone they were not, and it was like a game to find out what they were really like; a puzzle, to try and find all the pieces. 

After we left the restaurant, Niall directed the car not the way that I knew would take me home. He drove the opposite way, towards the lakes and rivers that let Northeast Indiana have any acknowledgement at all. 

It was a short drive. And every time I looked at Niall he would smile at me and turn back towards the road, never saying a word; never giving a clue as to what he had planned.

Loon Lake is a medium-sized lake, full of people that live there both year-round and weekenders, my mom called them.

I remember my mother telling me a story of long ago, from before she had met my dad. She dated a man, who had a young daughter. They had bought a lake house at this same lake, but sold it two years later when they split. Occasionally my mom would bring me up to this lake; show me the house where she thought her future would have been. She never had doubts with my father, she would have rather been with him than the man she dated years ago. We'd drive away, and I would twist my head around, waiting until the house and lake disappeared completely from my view.

And now as Niall drives past that same house I wonder how he knows about this area. Does he know about that house? My mother's past? No. Of course he doesn't, now I'm just being irrational. 

He pulls into a decent-sized house. The driveway is long and as I see lights up ahead inside the house I wonder if we're going to be met with other people.

"Does anyone live here?" I ask, suddenly worried Niall has just decided to pull into some random's person's driveway.

"No. I had the house cleaned. It's one of those weekend rented houses. Payback for you paying for my hotel room," he says, smirking. 

"You didn't have to do that."

"How can I not?"

I begin to wonder why it is Niall hasn't had a girlfriend since beginning the band. Never even dated anyone as far as I know. Well, it isn't my business anyway, just curiosity.  I mean, obviously Niall is attractive, and nice, and overall just a great person, I don't see why any girl doesn't just take every chance she can get.

"You gonna come in, then?"