Indifferences [n.h]

Chapter 12

It is weird to say that sitting next to him I feel more like we are old friends than practically enemies who cannot stand the presence of one another. Given our history, which couldn't go back further than a year, and much was spent fighting or ignoring each other, I certainly don't consider him a friend, but I can't find a reason for thinking of him an enemy either.

He spends a great deal of the film teasing me for my terrified remarks. His reasoning being that he has never met a person to be scared of Harry Potter yet read the books seven times each. For that he decides I am a nerd, but I don't mind, I would rather be a nerd than an idiot.

"No!" I scream before covering my mouth with my hands.

"It's just a ghost, no different to all the other goddam ghosts in this movie," he smirks. I notice the way his heavily tattooed arm settles on the couch pillow behind me, but pretend that I take no notice. It is a simple gesture, something that every guy does, not something I should be taking into account for no apparent reason.

"Please, forgive me for finding a horror movie scary," I retort, taking a chance to nudge him. His body tenses before relaxing and inching slightly closer to me, I turn my face to face him. My better judgement tells me to turn away before something happens, but I decide to ignore it.

"I didn't say I it was a bad thing, just wimpy," he tells me. I roll my eyes and turn back to the film, but he catches my chin in its descent. I can't help my eyes widen in shock from the forward gesture, but his actions are confusing. I am helpless in his grip. I force my eyes to dart from his, eye contact is too awkward, too connecting. But I feel his eyes burning holes into me.

"What?" I let out a nervous laugh. He simply shrugs and draws himself closer.

"What do you think?" he smirks, his face mere centimetres from mine.

"I- I don't know," I stutter. He doesn't answer, instead brings his hand to my cheek, brushing away a loose strand of hair.

"Maggie, are you that clueless to not see what is happening?" His hand cups my cheek and I feel the shivers down my spine from the simple gesture.

I shake my head, I know what is happening, and I was stupid to consider the option of this not happening. His fingers press lightly to my skin, and I catch him smile before he kisses me.

My conscience tells me to pull away, get out of this mess before it gets worse, but I don't. He kisses me gently, but with enough force and fire to drive me insane. For a moment I am shocked, but his patient lips wait for my lips to move against his.

He smiles, his tongue not hesitant to pursue into my mouth, kissing me harsher, his mouth moving stronger, but I prefer it to our short lived previous kisses. The fire in the pit of my stomach burns stronger than before as his hands reach for my neck pulling me closer to him. I have kissed several boys in my life, but nothing could ever compare to how Niall kisses me, the feeling he gives me is so unique, the raw passion I sense behind his lips is something I hate to admit just like the other girls I can't resist.

He leans back against my couch, not breaking the kiss as his hands move down to my hips, gently guiding me to straddle his lap.

"Maggie," he breaths into my mouth. The sweet taste of mint, cool and fresh, mixed with the sharp, bitter taste of alcohol is like a drug on my lips. I am aware of the way his hands pull our bodies closer together, and how mine move from his chest to his neck. Hands swiftly and slowly drawing the thin fabric of my shirt up my stomach.

"No," I mumble, quickly reaching my hands to his.

"I'm not trying to have sex with you," he barely breaks the kiss, mouth not an inch from mine. I smile, glad he isn't trying to use me. I lean in to kiss him again. But he pulls away and runs a hand through his hair.

"I had better go," he mutters, his hands moving from his hair to trace the tattoos lining his arms.

"It's fine," I assure him, but he doesn't move towards me.

"No, I made a mistake, I'm going," he tells me, no emotion in his voice.

I stand up, trying to conceal the flush of humiliation in my cheeks. He still has alcohol in his system, and I still let this happen, something he does just for the fun of messing with people which I genuinely find meaningful. I hate myself for kissing him, I am an idiot for thinking I could be associated with him without getting hurt myself. He is an asshole, a complete and total asshole, who will kiss a woman and toss her to the side for his physical enjoyment. I'm just glad he spared me of what he would have done if we had continued. He blinds me, I probably wouldn't have realised if he tricked me into having sex with him again until the next day when he left me here confused and alone.

"You should go then," I tell him as coolly as I can manage. "So we don't make this any more awkward,"

"Right," he says, looking over me before turning to the door.

"Don't tell anyone about this," I murmur as his hand turns the knob. Talk of this wouldn't have bright effect on either of our lives. Scandal is exactly what neither of us need.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he smirks his undeserving beautiful smirk.

And with that, he slams the door shut.

Sorry this is shorter than usual, I have been so busy!!!