Dear Mr. Right. [Niall Horan]

Prologue

Dear Mr. Blue Eyes,

I heard you’re finishing up your tour in America. Congrats! I can’t believe how far you’ve come. You’re out touring all over the world and I’m here left behind in Mullingar, working my butt off for minimum wage.

“Nova! Hurry up with Table #13’s order!”

“Nova! Clean up Table #2!”

“Nova! Table #7 needs refills!”

This was pretty much what I heard every day when I get to work.

“Nova, what are you doing? Get back to work!”

I dropped my pen on the floor and immediately covered my paper with my arms. Mr. Porter, my overly stressed out boss, looked at me and shoved a platter of glasses filled with water to my arms. I grabbed them and shoved the letter into the back of my pants.

I handed Table #5 there water and gave them the Nando’s serving smile, a.k.a. the most fake smile ever.

I walked back into the crowded kitchen and decided to try to finish my letter. I grabbed a spare pen from my shirt pocket and bit the end of it, while I tried to think of what else to write.

“Attention everyone! Staff meeting!” Mr Porter yelled, while entering the kitchen.

We all looked up from what we were doing, to hear what he had to announce. Probably about some new napkins transported from Turkey or a foreign chef exchange program, nothing important.

“There is a celebrity guest coming to dine here tomorrow night. He is from the famous band, One Direction. You might know him, Niall Horan!” he shouted over the loud clattering of frying pans.

Or not…

I dropped my pen on the floor and my arms had a spaz attack. I almost knocked down the wine glasses from the counter.

Look who just got my attention.

Guess what Mr. Blue Eyes? I’m going to see you tomorrow at Nando’s and I’ll be serving you.

-Nova x