Before You Leave Me Today (a One Direction love story)

66. Three Weeks

Chapter 66:

Strong arms slide underneath my neck and back and lift my limp body into the air. A groan escapes my lips and I snuggle closer to the person who has lifted me. I recognize Niall’s smell and smile against his chest. He sets me down on the bed and I open my eyes.

  “Go back to sleep, baby,” he whispers. My eyes oblige as tiredness takes over and I fall back to sleep.

  “Del.”

  “Delilah.”

  “Wake up, babe.”

Niall stands over me, nervousness clear on his face as he shakes my shoulder to wake me. I can’t help but smile at his worried expression.

  “My plane leaves in uh like an hour and erm—“ I interrupt his nervous chatter and throw my arms around his neck. He shuts up and rubs his hand along my back.

  “Uh, Del?” Niall breaks the comfortable silence of our embrace.

  “Hmm?”

  “Yer hairs in me face,” he says with a laugh. I pull back and swat his shoulder playfully. He sits on the edge of our bed and faces me. I sit up and pull the covers around my legs, sitting cross-legged to face him. I try to push my curly mess of hair out of my face and rest my hands on my lap. Niall brushes a lock of hair from my face and places a kiss on my forehead.

  “I will see you at Christmastime. Three weeks,” Niall says quietly as he puts his forehead to mine. He takes my hands in his and holds them on his lap. I nod slowly and he gives me a gentle kiss. “Hey, we’ll be in Ireland together in three weeks.”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “It’s the greatest country in the world, I’m tellin’ ye,” Niall’s smile widens.

  “I believe you.”

We’re silent for a minute before Niall stands up. He runs his thumb across the promise ring on my left hand before walking towards the doorway.

  “Don’t go kissing any more super models!” I say impulsively.

  “I won’t,” Niall says with a lighthearted laugh.

  “You better get this to that table, you wanker,” the manager says roughly under his breath. I lift the heavy tray over my head, holding it flat with my hand.

  “All right,” I say as I set the huge tray on a stand beside the table. O’Malley’s is packed tonight. I’ve had 12 tables just tonight, and it’s only 6:30. “Your Rueben,” I say setting the huge sandwich in front of a heavyset man. He grunts in reply and I try to give him a weak smile. I hurry to the next tables, dropping off their meals and asking if they need anything. A shout summons me from across the room, so I spin quickly on my heel to make my way across the restaurant. Something solid bumps into my chest and I fall to the ground. A full pint of beer falls to the floor, shatters, and covers me in the foamy liquid.

The man who bumped me stares me right in the face. Ian.

  “Ian, what the actual fuck?” I snap at him.

  “I’m so sorry, Delilah. Here let me,” he reaches for my wrist and attempts to pull me to my feet. My sneaker slips on the slippery floor and I fall again, this time, pulling Ian with me. After we’ve made a complete scene in the restaurant, I pick up the tray and the fragments of the pint glass and hurry back to the kitchen. Ian is right at my heels.

  “Do you need something?” I spit out as I push past him with a mop to clean my mess. My manager glares at me from behind the bar. “Excuse me,” I squeak as I try to push past the people in the crowded restaurant. Ian leans against the wall as I mop up the beer.