f o u r t e e n [ 1 4 ]

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Hot Mess:

c h a p t e r : f o u r t e e n  [ 1 4 ]

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Emery

My fingers lay lazily over my laptop's keyboard, not even a wisp of a thought in my head threatening to flinch my fingers into typing something. The lack of inspiration to write something I've had lately has been so bad. So bad that I've already three emails and two personal calls from Elizabeth herself reminding me that my third—and possibly my last—piece on Niall is due in exactly one week. But the problem is that ever since I've been starting to get closer to Niall and befriend him, it's been getting harder and harder to write about that smiling and jolly face. Even though he doesn't know I do, I feel like every single word I write down is a stab in the back.

Plus, I've come to figure that there's almost nothing to even write about now that he's isolated from all of the media and his cute dates. I've covered almost everything from back when he was with his band and in America right before he left in my last two articles. Now my mind has been sucked from all and any inspiration. My last chance is to get something directly from the target himself, but I know that will be hard; what dark secret could possibly be sitting inside such a gold heart like Niall's?

My phone ringing beside me cuts me from my train of thoughts and worries. I reach over to unplug my phone from its charger and bring it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Emery!" Niall's sing-song voice exclaims through the line, making my heart almost drop down to my stomach when I hear it immediately. Jeez, the universe really does hate me, doesn't it? "What's up?"

"Niall!" I chuckle back as equally as excited as he was. "Just doing some work for..." Shit. "...school. Why?"

"Good, then you're free for me," he says and I hear what I think is the rattling sound of car keys in the background. "I'm coming over to your room right now with the guys. We're going to have some fun." With that—not even allowing me to answer him—the line ends with a loud "yay!" from whom I suppose was Louis cheering in the background.

I bring my phone down from my ear and stare at it blankly. "Call ended," it reads. "Really?" I ask myself, silently cursing Niall in my head for his sudden outbursts of "fun." It's already almost one in the afternoon and I'm still here in my pajamas lying in my a cocoon of blankets with a half-empty bag of chips at my side—not really the kind of image I'd want to leave on a cute boy.

Wait—cute?

Shaking that sudden thought out of my head, I throwing the covers off of my body and head to the bathroom knowing that Niall would be here any minute. I obviously don't have enough time to take a shower so I just rinse my face off and quickly throw my hair into a ponytail. I change into a casual pair of black jeans, white t-shirt, and a jean jacket, not knowing what Niall will have in store for us. He could be taking us all out to a cool restaurant to eat, but then there's also the fact that he could be forcing me into some extreme sport again like paintball.

By the time I'm putting my shoes on, there's a knock on my door. I walk over to the door with one boot on my foot and the other being held in my hand. With my free one, I unlock the door and open it, revealing five happy-looking boys.

"Emery!" Louis is the first one to speak up of the group of five. He throws me a large grin and pushes his way past the other boys in the small huddle and into my room casually. The other follow him one by one, politely greeting me, until Niall comes last and grins cheekily at me.

"Hey, Em," he greets happily, slinging an arm around my shoulder. He guides us forward a bit and uses his foot to kick the door shut behind him. As he walks us over towards the center of my room where everyone is at, I already notice most of the boys getting comfortable with themselves; Louis and Harry sit Indian style on the middle of my bed digging into my bag of chips, Liam is hanging upside down on the side of my bed whilst scrolling through his phone, but Zayn is sat patiently and politely on one of the cushioned chairs in the small lounge, sending all the boys dirty looks at their behavior. I can't help but chuckle silently at their behavior, especially for what I presume as twenty-ish year old guys.

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