The Fangirl // Horan [temporarily on hold]

Chapter 16

"It's so weird," Niall says suddenly.

"What is?" I want to know.

We are sitting on the sofa, watching The Goblet of Fire, which is my favourite book/movie in the series. It's, like, two in the morning. Mom has gone to bed, to give us privacy, I think. On the screen, Fleur is just being chosen as the Beauxbatons champion. I mean, what is that all about? Sure, she's nice and all, but she's basically a blonde bimbo. I don't know what that Goblet was on when it chose her.

My feet (in their fluffy slippers) are propped up on the coffee table (thank God my mom isn't here to see it) and my head is against Niall's chest. His arms are around me, resting on my stomach, and together we are just one big tangly nest. It gives me a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

"What's so weird?" I ask again, when he doesn't answer.

He holds up a finger. "Hold on one second," he says, watching the screen intently. Then he shakes his head after a minute. "I can't believe that the Goblet would choose that Cedric Diggory. Angelina is the clear choice."

"Does someone have a crush on Angelina Johnson?" I tease, reaching up behind me and tapping his nose.

"No," he says. "You're taking up too much of my heart already. I have no more room for a crush on Angelina."

I go pink. I never know what to say when he says things like this. Instead I twist around and kiss him quickly. "And anyway, what's so weird?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, like he's just remembered it. "It's so weird hearing you say you love me. I've been going over it in my head and again, ever since you said it."

"Really?" I'm surprised.

"Yeah." He pauses. "You know, I've heard fans say they love me all the time. I mean, seriously, all the time. And I know they mean it, and I love them too. But it's rare to hear someone say that they actually love you. Like, you don't just love Niall Horan the singer, you love me, and you are in love with me. I hope."

I go even redder. "I am."

"Can you say it again?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"I want to make sure that I didn't imagine it, the first time."

"Well, then." I smile. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

"I love you mostest."

"Mostest isn't even a word."

"Well, that's how much I love you."

He laughs. Then he leans down and bumps his nose against mine. "Love you," he reminds me.

"Love you," I giggle, brushing my lips against his.

He presses his lips on mine. I kiss him for a few seconds before pulling away. "I want to watch the movie," I mumble.

"More than you want to kiss me?" He pretends to be insulted.

"Of course," I tell him. "No, I'm joking. I want to kiss you. But I want to watch the movie too."

"We can multitask, I'm sure," he says. Then he sits up, causing me to almost tumble off the couch.

"Hey!" I protest.

"No, wait, I have an idea," he says. He picks me up and sits me on the opposite end of the couch, so I am facing the TV. Then he sits in front of me. "Now you can kiss me and watch the film," he explains.