The Bodyguard » Niall Horan

14 » Soft touches

The life of a musician was immensely tiring, I thought after running along Niall and his team the whole morning and afternoon. The constant threat wasn't helping either, especially not because we had to constantly look over our shoulders.

We were backstage at the X Factor, in Niall's own dressing room. I was leaned against the wall and held a bottle of water in my hand while observing the people in the dressing room.

Niall was loved by his people. His band, his bodyguards and the rest of the crew who made sure he looked like a well dressed boy-next-door. They all really loved him. 

Someone made a joke, and everyone laughed. Niall, who was sat in the middle of the group, laughed broadly. His laugh and smile were actually pretty. His laugh reminded me of those innocent and carefree laughs kids made. Only people who had nothing to hide could laugh like that without being fake. And Niall was as innocent as a baby that just got out of the womb.

Niall saw me staring at him, and flashed me a thankful smile. I smiled back at him, though a bit weak. I nodded. You're welcome.

I dropped my leg from the wall and took the football in the corner and softly kicked it to the hallway and followed. 

In a silent spot, I did a few keep-ups with the football without dropping it for a few minutes It had something therapeutic, the rhythm of the ball, the sound of the ball touching the top of your feet and the soft swish of the wind when you kicked it up again.

I kicked it up, and balanced it on my knee, and rolled it back on my foot again.

" Tell me, is there anything you can't do?" A voice asked. I kicked the ball up and caught it with both my hands.

Niall leaned against the wall with his shoulder, his arms crossed in front of him. I smirked and threw the ball at him. Niall caught it easily and let it balance on his feet.

" Football was a better therapy for me than psychologist and medications were," I said. " I even could've played for England the last world championships." 

The ball rolled off Niall's foot. " Then why aren't you?" He asked, surprised.

I sat down on the floor, cross-legged. " I trained at least two times a week in Borehamwood, I often had two games per week and I was also busy with my A-levels... They scouted me for England at a very young age and trained with them once a week, too. I was done after a while and quit the England team. When I was sixteen, I was allowed to join the army and unfortunately, I had to quit playing for Arsenal, too. Quite sad, because I had an amazing team." 

Niall sat down next to me. " In which league did you play?" He asked.

" The first super league, as they call it nowadays. Professional ladies football. I was the youngest in the team. You can look it up, it's probably on Wikipedia or something." 

" I wouldn't have taken you for a footy girl," Niall said, honest. I stared at him as a grin appeared on my face. " There's a lot you don't know about me, Niall." I stared at my feet.

" That's the understatement of the year. Just when I think I know all about you, you show me something you haven't shown before." I chuckled.

" How do you feel?" I asked after a short silence.

" Alright. But, to be fair, I would've felt better if you would be right with me on stage." He replied.

" Unfortunately, my face isn't allowed on national, live tv." Niall nodded understandibly. " I know." 

" I would've done it if I could," I said as I turned my head towards his. Niall looked at me, and took my hand. I was a little surprised. We were alone here, no one to be seen. Why did he take my hand?

" I know that, too." He said.

His hand was warm in mine. His touch had changed. Almost gentle, it felt like. I just let him. Somewhere deep inside me, I liked that he touched me. He probably wasn't aware of what he was doing, as the holding hands thing became such a normal thing. But I was. I could feel the warmth of his big hand in mine, his calloused fingertips and the palm, which was much softer.

" Thank you, Mercer, " He spoke quietly.

" Always."