The Girl Next Door: A Niall Horan Love Story

The Girl Next Door: A Night to Remember...or Forget

Rissa's POV

        "What does one wear to a One Direction Party," I asked my empty room. As expected, nothing answered. I tucked my chin into the worn blue fabric of my brother's Murray State hoodie and let out an irritated huff. My clothes were thrown around the room as if a small tornado had descended from my ceiling smashed my cardboard moving boxes a part. The clock on my dresser ticked menacingly, warning me that my time was slowly slipping away. "Do I wear something cute? Or do I need to wear something sexy? Omigod, will there be other celebrities there, oh God, will the boys want me to meet them? Pressure! This is way too much to ask the new girl," I muttered biting on my lip. I tugged on the neck of my sweatshirt and began to pace the space between my bed and the raised portion of my room.

        My door opened and Aunt Clare stuck her head in, she took one look at my room and smiled knowingly. "Nervous," she asked. She twirled a fiery lock of hair between her fingers and leaned against the door frame, displaying her "Neflix Night Attire" which consisted of her favorite bunny shorts, a blue lace tanktop, and a pair of battered slippers.

        "I don't know what to wear!" I exclaimed before throwing myself onto my bed. Clare laughed.

        She walked into my room and began to search through the pile of discarded clothing. I watched as she would pluck a shirt or skirt out the clutter, hold it up to my discarded form, then chuck it back into the mess. She did this several times before she let out an aggravated huff. "You have no cute clothes," she stated. I groaned and buried my face in my mound of pillows, completely hating the fact that I never thought of buying clothes worthy of a One Direction Party. 

        "Why did you have to live next to popstars?" I asked, not bothering to take my face out of the sheets. Clare chuckled and left the room, her battered slippers scuffing against the wooden floors. I turned over and stared at the empty doorway, she left me! 

        Then a door I didn't know was connected to my room burst open, with a scream I fell off my bed. As I peeked over my the top of my bed my suspicious emerald green eyes noticed my aunt chuckling evilly from the new door. "Sorry, love, I had to get you out of your head," she attempted to apologize through her fit of snorts and gasps. I narrowed my eyes at her and pursed my lips to show her I didn't care for her "Distraction". After a few minutes she recovered from her laughter and held up a piece of fabric, "How about this?"

        I smiled, "It's perfect!"

 Niall's POV

        "Now, Niall I expect you to be a gentleman," Liam reminded me as we walked up to Rissa's flat. 

        "I know, I know, Li-Li. It's not like I'm going to jump the poor girl!" I sighed adjusting the neck of my Polo. Liam rolled his eyes but didn't lecture me any further. He lifted a hand and knocked on the door and we waited with baited breath. 

        Clare opened the door and smiled warmly, "Come on in boys, I'll just run up and get her." I stepped into the familiar hall of Clare O'Reily's flat and noticed with a grin that Rissa had finally begun to fill the empty spaces that had always lingered in her aunt's house. Her shoes were kicked carelessly by the front door under the entrance table, which had a bright red umbrella and yellow raincoat tossed on the surface. A bright blue love seat sat at the top of the stairs, stacks of books and scrap pieces of papers laying precariously on the cushions. As I noticed the little touches of Rissa that had begun to mark Clare's house, I noticed a new picture hanging on the wall. Without thinking I walked over to it and found myself looking at a happy family.

        There were four people, all wearing matching Yankees hats, displayed in the picture. My eyes instantly found Rissa, sitting on the shoulders of the man I assumed was her father, proudly showing off a baseball. The man holding her had blonde hair just peeking out the baseball cap and brown eyes barely seen through his enormous smile. He was holding the hand of a beautiful woman I knew to be Rissa's mother. Her long red hair was thrown in a careless pony tail, but she was obviously the kind of woman that looked beautiful no matter what--just like her daughter. She was holding a young boy too interested in his icecream cone to even notice his picture was being taken. He looked like the man, but shared Rissa's button nose and crooked grin. They looked so happy and I couldn't help but wonder how she'd ended up living with Clare.