I Don't Have The Answer.

Chapter Twenty

WOOOOOOOOOOO ANOTHER CHAPTER!

Sorry it's short, but I'm sleep deprived, and time deprived!

Let me know what you think!

GUESS THE SONG AT THE END, WOOOOOOOOOOO!

I wanted to walk in there, and hug him, and tell him that I was sorry for everything, for running out on him, for not giving as much into this relationship has he had. He puts so much into this, and I just take him for granted. There are more beautiful girls he could be with, but he puts up with me, and I dont even appreciate him.

Right now I don't love him enough to marry him. But I love him too much to tell him that.

I feel like I've been torn between two worlds: Niall's world; of fame and fortune, and screaming girls, and performing to thousands of people every night, and My world: where my priority was to get through university.

I realised I still had my hand on the doorknob to our flat, and I realised I wouldn't be able to go in there without fucking everything up. 

I put my keys back in my purse and walked away. Where was I to go? 

I couldn't see any of the boys, how could I? Niall is their best friend.

Tahnee would tell Harry, just as Eleanor would tell Louis, and Danielle Liam.

So I scrolled through the contacts in my phone, looking for someone to dump my problems on, when I came across; Edward Sheeran; aka Ginger Jesus, The Most Wonderful Person In The World.

''Typical Ed.' I thought, as I dialled his number. It rang exactly four times ,for  exactly 6 and three quater seconds before Ed picked up.

"Let me guess Sarah, Niall problems?" He asked, in that accent I had missed hearing.

"Hi Ed, nice to talk to you too." I replied back, a bit more sharply than I should have.

Since Ed and I met at one of the boy's concerts, we had become quite good friends, I enjoy his company and he gives such wonderful advice, which is a bonus.

"Oh yeah. That too. See you at my flat in half an hour. Be there with beer, pringles, skittles and vodka or don't come at all." Then he hung up on me.

"How the fuck do so many girls want him?" I said to the dead line on my phone. 

I walked out of the complex and down the road to the nearest Tesco. 

Over a hundred pounds later, I have the alcohol and the pringles, the skittles and a couple of microwaveable dinners, and a jug of pancake mixture. 

He had better fucking appreciate this.

I somehow managed to get to his flat in one piece, without my arms falling off from the weight of the shopping.

I knocked at the door to Ed's flat, and he greeted my first by taking the shopping, opening the beer, and downing half a bottle, before greeting me and saying, "So Sarah, I'm nearly drunk enough to talk to you. What's going on?"

He is so fucking witty sometimes, I don't know why I haven't hit him.

*Le 3 hours later*

Ed and I, had between us drunk the entire bottle of vodka, and 2 or 3 beers each. So we pulled out his guitar and begun writing songs.

"It is seriously theraputic Sarah! You will feel soooooooooooooooooooooooo much better!" He slurred, "Here, let me start..." 

GUESS THE SONG

'Idon't really dance, so I'll just watch you,

are you  taking me back tonight,

tell me if that's alright,

I don't wanna be here,

I'm not the sofa type.