An Angel Named Niall

Chapter 4

JULIETS POV

What am I doing? I'm running, then i'm tripping on my own feet, and now i'm following this random person to his house. 

He's tall, with blonde hair. That's as much as I can take in. Something about him makes me feel little. Maybe it's the way he holds himself-with such confidence. Something I don't have. 

His thick accent tells me he's not from here. I can feel him looking at me at times. I want to run the opposite way and never look back, yet here I am following him. My cut stings as the wind blows through it. 

I don't even know how I ended up in this area. Must be the good side of LA. 

Silence was perfectly okay with me, until he introduced himself and asked me for mine. His name is Niall-a name i've never heard before. It's sweet, yet boyish. It's a charming name. 

When we reach his house, I hesitate stepping in. Just the front of it gives away that he makes some good money. How old is he?

The house is two-story, with a short frontyard. The driveway is long and I only get a glimpse of a black car. 

When I actually step it, the house looks empty...almost like he barely bought it. I immediately regret it the further we walk in. But he asks me to follow him. 

Something about his voice, his demeanor, even his dog, invites me in. Comfort? Distraction? Yes, distraction. He's working as a distraction for me as I try to ridden of my emotions. The tears have ceased, and I'm glad he only saw a bit of it. Just thinking about the cause behind the tears triggers more tears. I bite down on my lip so it can join the pain from my scrape to distract me from Matt. 

There are three white couches making a square in this vast living room. At the front, is a firewood, which I don't understand, since it's always burning in California. It is so neat, and well adorned. Guitars are glued to the wall by the large window. 

The couch is extremely comfortable, as I'm sure it cost a fortune. He leaves the room to grab the kit, leaving me alienated. How can he trust me? I'm a stranger from the streets. Doesn't it cross his mind that I can easily grab something and make a run for it? 

His dog comes over to me and begins to sniff me. His nose ticklets the back of my hand, as he investigates me. Looking at his tag, I see his name is Doug. I place my good hand over his head and scratch it. I think he likes it. I can feel a small smile form on my lips. What is it about dogs?

"I got the kit," he says. My hand immediately leaves Doug's head and Niall walks over to me. 

My heart accelerates when he tells me Doug likes me. But my heart comes to a halt when he sits right by me. His proximity is surprisingly making me feel nervous. My palms begin to sweat as I can smell his cologne. 

"May I?" His hand is opened towards me. He wants me hand. He wants me to place my hand in his. What is going on? 

With every nerve in me going berserk, I slowly place mine in his. When my skin makes contacts with him, my heart rate increases. His hand is warm and soft...so comforting compared to my cold one. 

"This is going to sting," he warns. I finally look at him in the eyes and I am in awe as I stare at a pair of beautiful, clear blue eyes. They're wide as he stares at me. He cuts eye contact, and when the wipe smooths over my skin, I wince. 

"Sorry," he says. His cleans the scrap with ease and a sense of gentlesness, careful not to hurt me. I take the opportunity to examine his face. His pale skin looks smooth, not a single mark of flaw evident. His nose aligns perfectly down. The small freckles I can see adorn his face. 

When he looks up, I snap my eyes to my hand. He must have felt my eyes on him. 

"Okay, it should be fine." He smiles and throws the wipes into a plastic bag. I look at my now cleaned hand. 

"Thank you," I say. He looks shocked that words left my mouth. He grins and says, "You're welcome." The awkwardness consumes the room, but Doug walks in, taking it out. Niall ruffles his head, but Doug comes to me. 

"Alright, Doug. I see how it is. You're sleeping outside tonight," Niall jokes. A smile creeps on my face and Niall catches it. 

"I'm really hungry. Are you?" For some reason I expected him to ask me about why I was crying. I don't know if I could handle him asking that. 

"I make great sandwiches. I can make you one," he says when I don't answer. I tuck my falling hair behind me ear, and agree for a sandwich. 

"Come on." He stands up, and waits for me to get up before leading the way. 

His kitchen is bright because of the blazing sun outside. There's a sliding door that leads to his massive backyard. A pool and hottub are planted to the side. 

"Take a seat," he nods towards the stool. The walls are white, but the color of the cabinets are a redish brown. The island in the middle has enough space to site about 6 people. The dinner table is to my back, but I don't dare look at it. 

He takes out the ingredients one by one. Slowly, the space in front of me gets covered by food. Doug is right by his side, wanting to get a piece of ham. 

He places two bread pieces on each plate. I feel odd just staring at him. I should help or be doing something. 

"I can...make my own," I say. He stops applying mayo on the bread and looks up at me. Something about his eyes makes me quiver. I clear my throat. "Is it okay if I wash my hands?"

"Go for it," he smiles. Very slowly, I make my way to the sink, and although the soap stings on my scrape, I wash them anyway.