Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

16 | midnight memories

❝There is a time for risky love. There is a time for extravagant gestures. There is a time to pour out your affections on one you love. And when the time comes -- seize it, don't miss it.❞ ▬ Max Lucado.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I wake up missing him.

I miss him so much that it makes my chest hurt and my brain swirl. It's Saturday the twenty-seventh of July, and my every thought, my every movement, my every being, revolves around him. I don't think I can take it any longer; if I don't see him soon, I might just go insane from the sheer amount of longing, which has consumed my entire body and left me feeling empty inside. 

The big day has finally rolled around and I can't wait for him to knock on my door to escort me to the tacky Irish pub in which the competition the boys have rehearsed so much for will take place. I haven't seen him since the eighteenth, which was over a week ago, and I know that it's stupid but I can't help but hope that he hasn't forgotten about me, or stopped liking me, or simply realised that I'm not as great as he initally thought. Perhaps he has and he won't show up tonight. Fear sends icy fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver even though the day is cloudless and warm. 

As I bite into a slice of buttery toast whilst sitting at the round kitchen table, Mum drifts across the room, making coffee. She passes me a mugful, sitting down opposite me with a smile. She looks better than she ever has; long black hair sleek and shiny, arms covered with a bronze glow from our mother-daughter day of sunbathing in the back garden yesterday, a slither of her flat stomach visible above the waistline of her loose denim shorts. I can smell sun-cream on her skin above the floral scent of perfume, and as she lifts her coffee mug to her lips, her pretty bracelets jangle on her wrist; she meets my gaze and puts down her coffee. 

"Are you up to anything today?" She asks. I wouldn't have to ask her the same thing; I already know the answer. David is taking her to the beach. She asked me yesterday if I wanted to come, but I said no, because I didn't want to feel like a third-wheel or make things awkward, and thankfully she didn't object. Her date with David last Friday went well, and she's barely stopped talking about him since. I don't mind; I'm just glad she's happy, for once. 

I swallow a mouthful of toast before answering: "Well, tonight I'm going out with Niall. His band's playing in a competition."

Mum lifts her dark eyebrows. "Well, I hope they win."

"They will," I promise, grinning. 

At around twelve, David comes to pick Mum up to take her to the beach. I stay upstairs in my room, but I can hear them talking through the floorboards. I can hear Mum's laughter, and then her calling "Bye, Anna!", and then the slam of the front door. I peer out my bedroom window, watching as a tall man with dark brown hair leads my mother down the garden path. They climb into a fancy-looking car and zoom off down the road, and once again I'm left to my own devices. 

I spend more time getting ready than usual. I shower, washing my hair and carefully shaving my legs, removing the thin layer of stubble that's formed on each one over the past few days. I dry my hair, letting it fall past my chest in gentle waves, and brush it through until I'm certain that every knot and tangle has been thoroughly eradicated. Then I start on my face. I neatly pluck my eyebrows, cover every spot with concealer, and apply multiple layers of mascara. 

It takes me even longer to choose something to wear. I pull out numerous outfits from my wardrobe before throwing them across the room, feeling frustrated. I eventually settle on a black skater dress with a white peter-pan collar. I tug on sheer black tights and a dozen bracelets to cover my scars.