Niall & Harry Take Miami (22 Times Series)

Chapter Seventeen

“Niall, wait,” Francis follows me and I groan, turning around. The look she gives me makes me feel terrible; I didn’t mean to hurt her. I am just not in a mood to be talking to people – if it’s not Savannah, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s enough going on, Francine,” I shake my head, “I need some time to think, I’m sorry.”

“But…” I start running away from Francis, like if she was a fan. She goes after me like I knew she would. There’s two elevators, one is closed and the other on is closing. I quickly get in with other two people and watch Francis who stays before it, staring at me with sad eyes. The elevator closes and I sigh.

When the elevator opens again, I’m in the lobby. I dial Savannah’s number, and still no fucking answer. I want to go to her house, but she’s probably working or Daniel is in the house with her. Fucking Daniel… how dare he lie to Savannah? What’s the reason behind it?

“Ni,” I groan loudly as I see Francis running towards me, “I used the stairs,” she has fatigue and then again I feel terrible, “you need to talk to someone, and I can be that someone. I don’t like you seeing like this.”

“I don’t like treating you like this but please leave me alone,” I walk away, calling Savannah again which once again it sends me to her voicemail.

Miami is warm today; still, the sun burns my skin. My skin is pink and my cheeks are sun burnt, I must say I look like bacon.

“She’s married, Niall. We have one week left in Miami and soon we’re in tour again. What do you think this thing will go? Huh?”

Without thinking, I punch the wall of a building. There’s a cracking sound and I kneel, bringing my bleeding knuckles to my face. Few people are laughing, of course they are laughing. I punched a wall and I’m nearly crying.

“Do you think that’ll sting when you go shower?”

“For the love of God, Francis…”

“What are you doing? You’re not the funny Niall that I know, where’s my adorable Irishman?” She kneels in front of me.

“I am not adorable.”

“Yes you are, like a puppy.” She grabs my hand, “Should we go back and get this cleaned?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” I lie and she raises a brow, not believing me, “I can handle this.” I clean the blood with my sweatpants. Now it has a stain.

“It seems like you killed someone.” She laughs.

“I might do if you don’t leave me alone.”

“Whatever, oh,” Before she goes away she stands on front of me, “Liam needs to talk to you.”

“I know.” I stand up.

She smiles, takes a glance of my hand and leaves.

As I finally get to the tattoo shop, the only tattoo shop close to the hotel, I open the door and come inside. Carter, the artist and Harrry’s friend, greets.

“The first client of the day,” He says while reading a punk magazine.

“Um yea, I came here for another tattoo.”

“I see, sit here and let’s get started,” Carter pats a chair, I sit down and the woman who tattooed me Noah on my arm recognized me. She smirked.

When he sits next to me with all this stuff, I look down at my left leg, good thing the sweatpants are short.

“I want a tattoo of the face of an angry lion on my leg,”

“Big or small?”

“Big.” I say. I am so going to regret this, but I’m proud.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Carter, hurry up.” I say harshly.

While he starts my phone rings, I pick it up after I see it’s Savannah.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry. Daniel didn’t go to work today so he could be with me, and he’s being awfully close to me,” She whispers, “I’m in the bathroom right now, pretending to be using the toilet. He didn’t want me to use the phone…”

“He probably knows our thing.”

“I want to see you again. I finally convinced him to let me go to work, so do you want to visit me there?”

“Yeah sure”

“I’ll call you later,” There’s a banging on her door, and I hear Daniel’s voice.

“Alright”

**

“What the hell?” Harry asks me as I walk into the room; he’s lying on his bed checking his phone. He stands up and stares at my leg, “That tattoo looks ridiculous, I want it.”

“It’s sick, isn’t it?”

“I thought you weren’t going to get a tattoo for real.” He shakes his head unbelieving this.

“You thought wrong, mate.”

“Yea...” He trails off, “Too bad it’s fake.”

“What?” I have a bad feeling about this.

“I couldn’t let you do this so I had to.”

“You had to what?” I face him, mad again.

“I called Carter and told him to make you a fake tattoo,”

“You fucking didn’t.”  

“I did. This is not what you want Niall.”

“Stay out of my business!” I yell and Harry laughs, throwing himself to the bed. “I mean it Harry!”

“Calm down. That tattoo only lasts three days. Thank me later.” I open my mouth to say something but I’m out of words. I can’t believe this asshole.

I officially hate Harry Styles.

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