Imagines with Niall Horan

103. Christmas Eve

First of all: yes, you did in fact work at Starbucks, but that's only because your aunt was a branch manager and one could always use the extra money. With school, and all the clubs you were in, you rarely had time, and you would have figured you wouldn't dare work during the holidays.

Yet there you were the afternoon of Christmas Eve, absently wiping the same spot on the countertop with a rag.

The only other company you had aside from your aunt (who wasn't even there since she just stepped out for some cigarettes across the street) was the other barista (a college girl that hadn't stopped yapping into her phone since she picked it up half an hour ago) and an elderly couple that ordered tea and a hot chocolate and committed themselves to a table in the corner.

Why the hell had you even agreed to help your aunt, anyway?

Oh, yeah. You were alone.

You and your two best friends had spent every Christmas Eve together since you'd met each other during middle school at a summer camp.

When one of your friends began dating Niall Horan in eighth grade, it just left you and the other one, which wasn't bad at all. Then senior year came along, and she began dating, and the first one was still in a relationship with another guy, so they were spending this Christmas Eve with their significant other.

With you alone.

Not that you cared, of course, because you didn't.

And you weren't jealous of them, either. You were happy and all that crap that they were in love.

If it was one thing that you did not do, it was envy others. Others envied you. You didn't even blink an eye at the fact that you were alone.

Whatever.

The front door chimed and you looked up, your eyes falling upon the face you least expected (okay, well, maybe not least, but not the most either) to have seen. "Niall?"

You hadn't seen him around that much since junior year, at one of your best friend's friend-of-a-friend's party. That was also when you had sex with him. But it wasn't a big deal: he admitted in never having sex during a round of Truth or Dare, you were both drunk, and there was an empty room upstairs. You were only doing him a favor.

Now, the said boy stopped his stride a few steps from the counter and looked up from the floor, staring at you. He blinked once and kept staring blankly, as if he was just waking up from a daze and wasn't quite there yet. When your eyes narrowed and your hand twitched like you wanted to slap him, he finally said, "Uh hi," all surprised and whatnot, crossing the small distance to your register. "Hey."

You tried to ignore the way the barista whispered that "a cute-ass guy just walked through the door." She would pay for that later.

"I didn't know you worked here," he said, his eyes falling on your nametag and green apron.

"Not regularly, but my aunt apparently needed my help." Despite your slight intrigue at his being here, you kept your voice at a slight drawl. "Why? Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no, I was just saying," he stammered quickly. (You smirked at the fact that you could still make him squirm so easily.) "But, I mean, you know, it's a job. So you get, like, paid and stuff. That's cool." He gulped a little and cleared his throat nervously.

You chuckled. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um," he looked back down, "had some free time and thought I'd get some coffee."

"Alone on Christmas Eve? Oh, that's right," you tilted your head slightly, "you're no longer being anchored down."

"Hey." His tone was warning.