Warning: I know the beginning sucks. And I apologize. I tried editing it so it maintain the same story line. Trust me- I've improved immensely in my writing - creatively and mechanically. So PLEASE stay with the story! ( 12/22/13)
Hey! This is my first fanfic so don't judge but whatever! I hope you like it so far! (PICTURE OF ELLA TO THE SIDE)
~Katie
Chapter 1:
(Ella's POV)
(Edited on 12/22/13)
"Sweetheart, wake up!" I hear as my mum shakes me.
"Five.. more..minutes.... ," I groan, trying to fall back to sleep. Ugh, Now is not the time.
"Ella, don't play this game with me, please get up!" she yells.
"But Mum...." I whine.
" Fine! I guess Niall-"
"Niall?!?" I cut her off. I shoot up to face her. I swear if she's using me to get me up, I'm -
"Oh, did I forget mention he was coming today?" she asks me, eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes!" I exclaim.
Wow, Mum, thanks for leaving an important detail out in our conversation last night. Geez.
"Well, get your lazy butt up and get ready, he'll be here in a bit," she informs me. She then walks out of my room.
I let my feet hang from the bed, processing everything. I finally get to see him again. My feet touch the cold ground as I go to my mirror and stare at my bed head, thinking about what I should do with it. I brush my brunette hair, and am left with frizzy curls. I grab a hair tie and pull it up in a messy bun at the top of my head. I throw on an old t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Just casual.
I fly down stairs, almost slipping from my socks. Note to self: buy better socks. I go to the freezer, and look for my frozen waffles. I put the last one in the toaster, and wait for the delicious grub. Once to my liking, I sit down and bit into it. As I'm enjoying my waffle the front door creaks open.
"You didn't make me one?! And I thought we were friends!"
I look towards to see my best friend.
Niall Horan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soo what did ya think? I know. It's bad. BUT it will get better. Trust me.
Fan, Vote, Comment!
YOU ARE READING
Things I'll Never Say.
Fanfiction"Ella! Come here!" six year-old Niall called to me. I scurried over to him, almost tripping on the tools we used to plant a tree in my backyard. "Let's make a promise," he told me, sticking out his left pinky, "Promise that...