Picture Imperfect (Niall Horan)

13 - Cassie

13 – Cassie

The warm wind whips my hair away from my face as I walk down the path, Zayn’s hand in mine. The stones are multiple shades of gray and white and I find my thoughts leading back to yesterday, when Niall gave me great advice. He said that I should just enjoy what Zayn and I have now, because who knows what’s to come for all of us? He is really understanding I feel like he knows me, he’s just a great friend. He is always on my mind and he makes me laugh like no one else does.

Except for Zayn, of course.

“So where are we going exactly?” I ask him, looking over to find him staring straight ahead of us.

“You’ll see.” He gives me a smile and I return it, giving his hand a squeeze. It’s a beautiful day; its 80 degrees but it doesn’t seem too hot due to the breeze that is present.

We keep walking for another 10 minutes, passing by parks and bridges over small lakes. It’s so wonderful to be here with him, but something feels wrong. I am so distracted; I can’t seem to get Niall off my mind. After the interview—when the lady pointed out that he was the only single one in the band—something changed in him. I saw it, and I don’t know if anyone else did either. He seemed so on edge and it was clear he was upset. I wish there was something I can do, but I don’t want to meddle in Niall’s love life. I care about him, we’ve gotten close over these past few weeks, and I don’t like to see him upset. I don’t like to see anyone upset, really, especially the people I care about. And, as it just to happens, Niall Horan falls under that category.

“We’re here,” Zayn says, pulling me back to the present.

I notice we’re on a small hill, and my eyes widen when I see a red and white checkered blanket spread on the ground, with a picnic basket and some music playing. My eyes find Zayn’s and I smile widely. “You did this?” I ask. He nods. “This is incredible, I can’t believe it!”

“So you like it?” he wonders, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer. My stomach tightens when he holds his grip on me but I ignore it.

“Of course I do,” I say and playfully whack him. He grins, his tongue visible behind his teeth. I love it when he smiles like that, it really does him justice.

“After you,” he offers and motions for me to sit down. I do, and we begin to eat and talk. I learn that Zayn is one of the most caring people I know, and we also have a lot in common. We are into the same types of music and books and we have the same opinion on many different topics. I begin to think that this is great, that we are so much alike and that I am so lucky to find someone that thinks so much like me.

But then that changes.

We begin to run out of things to talk about after about two hours. I start to get excited about something, a new subject that we can discuss, but we agree right away and it goes flat, forcing us to awkwardly bring something else up. I enjoy spending time with him, and I have to tell myself over and over that I love it when he kisses my cheek or I really enjoy the feeling in my stomach when he wraps his hands around my waist.

By the time I check my phone, it’s half past three in the afternoon. “I should get home,” I tell him and he agrees.

“I’ll drive you home,” Zayn offers and I thank him, standing up and fixing my shirt. He takes my hand in his and leads us in the direction of where he parked his car.

This time, as we walk, it’s silent between us. But it’s not awkward, it’s peaceful. I take many deep breaths to appreciate the smell of the flowers and grass. Zayn takes me to a bridge that overlooks a river, with boats tied to docks and flowers floating in the water.