The Lift (A One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

   All the questions that were running through my head disappear immediately, only to be replaced by new, more confusing ones. Why is he in an accounting building? Why is he alone? What cruel yet well-meaning overseer would put me in this sort of situation?

   I don't respond to Niall's introduction. I'm not one to fangirl, but I'm afraid if I speak I may squeak. I just nod, trying to mask my obvious shock.

   Niall gives me an odd look, one that, if I were to caption it as a meme, would say "Dafuq?" on top and "You on drugs, gurl?" on the bottom.

   I spend far too much time on the Internet. I blame Instagram.

   "You alright?" he asks, clearly a bit concerned at my sudden muteness.

   I nod again, fearing that my voice will crack if I try to respond so soon after this unexpected news. Niall Horan? Seriously? I bet millions of girls would pay good money to be stuck in a room with him. Minus the whole "if-you-gotta-crap-go-in-a-hole" thing.

   "I guess you've heard of me," Niall comments, though there's a strain in his words.

   "Uh huh." Great. I finally find my voice, and I end up sounding like a caveman. That's just peachy.

   "Do you, uh, like One Direction?" he asks.

   "Yeah," I respond, hopefully not sounding like a prepubescent boy. "I do."

   Niall nods awkwardly, clearly not knowing what to say. Can't blame him; I'm not offering anything in the way of conversation until I can get my stupid brain to stop whirring.

   He's probably upset I'm another fan. He's afraid I won't treat him like a normal guy and that I'll freak out on him.

   Which is exactly what I'm doing now. If I'm going to get over the shock of who he is, I have to talk to him, not stare him like he just marinated and ate a small child.

   "So what are you doing in an accounting firm?" I offer, attempting to be bold. His face lights up. A second later it scrunches up in confusion.

   "Accounting?" he repeats suspiciously. "My management said to come here for a meeting... I thought this was some type of recording company. The boys should all be upstairs."

   That can't be right. I'm positive this is my dad's building, and I know for a fact that he has no musical connections.

   "No, my dad's an accountant and he works upstairs," I retort, though I try not to say it sassily. "Are you sure your management said 563 Mulberry?"

   "Yeah, that's the address they gave me," he protests. He rubs his chin, takes off his obnoxiously large sunglasses and removes his hood. He pulls out his iPhone. "Let me check the text."

   I wait for him to scroll through his messages. After about thirty seconds he puts his phone back in his pocket.

   "And?" I inquire.

   "I'm an idiot," Niall whimpers. "And Apple's a bitch."

   "Why? Was the address wrong?" I ask.

   "No, I read it wrong," he sighs despondently. "The font I chose makes 5 and 6 look annoyingly similar. I'm supposed to be at 663 Mulberry."

   "Oh. That's a few blocks down," I point out.

   "Well that doesn't help me now!" Niall snarls. I jump a bit, or as much as I can while sitting. Niall, seeing how alarmed he made me, turns his irate expression into one that is only a bit pissed off.