Summer (Niall Horan)

Pyjamas and Mini Golf

NIALL

            I’ve been having a buzzing time in Simon’s house for a week now. The rest of the boys thought it was cool to leave me alone and behind in London while they go out and about in Paris. Except for Zayn. That bloke at least had the decency to apologize to me for leaving me friendless because he had “matters to attend to” and went separate ways with the other three boys, which made me feel at least 5% better about my staying here.

            I didn’t call flight schedules anymore because I was tired and angry and hungry and having a hangover all at the same time (and secretly hoping the boys will feel guilty about them leaving without me) but so far I’m actually having a great time right now. I put up a mini golf course up in Simon’s glass living room and the pressure of trying not to hit anything gives the game the right challenge and extremity. If the boys hadn’t left me drunk and full of pizza a week back, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of doing these.

            I had thought about using a putt instead of a wedge but I guess it just won’t give the game extremity at all. I swing the wedge with a flourish and the ball soars through the air, lands on the rim of a jar and around, and drops in it. I shoot, I score.

            I positioned another on the tee and prepared my angles.

            One more perk of staying in at Simon’s house is that I get to see him in his pyjamas. Not that I’m secretly gay and enjoying the view but because he looks like a normal person and not the prim and proper robot boss we were ought to get used to. I never pegged him as a pyjamas guy, though, but I was wrong.

            Yesterday he wore a silky blue pair that reminded me of the Chinese, the day before that he wore a pinstriped black and white one. But the best one of all was the first time I stayed in here. I guess he forgot I was still going to be here in the morning and walked to the living room wearing a white shirt and tight duckie boxers which made me laugh for two minutes straight.

            I reckon I was the one who turned him into a pyjamas guy because the next day he started wearing series of not-tight designer pyjamas he probably keeps at the bottom of his closet.

            Right now he walks into the living room with the bunch of little hairs on top of his head in not one but all directions wearing crimson pyjamas with black dots on ‘em.

            Me: Morning.

            Simon: Morning, Niall. You’re up early.

            Me: Yeah.

            Simon: So… Mini golf. In my living room.

            He’s sitting on the kitchen counter, preparing sandwich.

            Me: Yeah. Wanna join?

            Simon: Actually I think I’m going to enjoy my food in here, thank you.

            Swing the club once more and boom, the ball crash lands in the gigantic aquarium with a splonk. I hear Simon gasp.

            Me: Woops. Good thing it didn’t hit the glass, right, Simon?

            Simon: Uh, good thing, very good… thing.

            I look at him and smile and shake my head once. I walk over to the aquarium, reach for the ball and thank God the little shark is far off the right side of the glass.

            Simon: Niall, you can’t stay here.

            The ball hits the leg of the center table with such fierce strength that I suddenly yelp.