“Niall, hurry up!” I shout at him, trying to hold the sheets up, my arms getting tired.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I hear his feet scuffle on the floor and laugh, picturing him wobbling across the floor with the pizza in his hands. “What did you do?!”
I twist my head as far as I can, not letting go of the sheet so my neck is quite uncomfortable. “It fell, just come and help me!”
He sets the pizza down and comes over to help me, grabbing the sheet out of my hands and securing it under the pile of books so it won’t fall again.
“I think we did a pretty good job,” I say, my hands on my hips, surveying our fort of blankets and chairs in the middle of the family room.
“Welp, time for food!” He brings the whole pizza with him into the fort, setting it down on the floor beside him. I roll my eyes at him and pick up paper plates, handing him one.
“You’re not getting one stain on this floor.” Even though my parents were strangely okay with him staying over when they were gone, if he messed up their carpet, they would pitch a fit. They were obsessed with it.
He puts his pizza on his plate just to please me, but I know he’ll eat every piece from now on out of the box.
“Ew, Niall, this is disgusting.” I pick off all the toppings he had ordered on the pizza, throwing them into the box with a disgusted look on my face. ”You know I like cheese, plain cheese!”
“Ah, but now I get all this, and you get your plain cheese,” he says, gesturing towards my now empty piece of pizza.
“No food goes to waste!” I say, mockingly pumping my fist and lowering my voice, imitating him.
We talk all through eating although he takes about twenty minutes longer than I do and I clean everything up, bringing the plates and pizza box into the kitchen, washing my hands. I walk back to the fort to see his silhouette lighting candles inside the fort, sending flickering shadows across the walls, giving it a quite romantic look from the outside. I smile at him, wondering how he could possibly be any cuter.
I duck back under the sheets, laying on my stomach, my chin propped up on my elbows facing him. “Come on, it’s movie time,” he orders.
“But how, if..” He splits open the sheets that we’ve set over chairs and under books, giving just enough room for the tv to be seen if I lean against him, his arms wrapped around me, so, gladly, I take my spot. I watch as Belle and the Beast fall helplessly in love, never taking my eyes off the screen, following along with every line in my head. I think about the countless time’s he’s been there to watch it with me, never once interrupting or refusing.
“Gets better every time,” I say as the movie nears the end.
“It’s the perfect love story.” I can tell he’s slightly mocking, but in his ‘I find her so adorable’ way.
“It really is!” I protest.
“You think the Beast is more attractive than me?”
“Oh, by far,” I tease him, slightly laughing.
“You say that every time.” He fakes being upset.
“And yet you always ask the question.” The endless sarcastic banter is what makes me love him so much, besides all of the other things he’s done for me. He leans over and pecks my lips quickly.
I roll back on over to my stomach, “So, what if we-“
I stop, looking at the flowers he’s holding out, the red and white poppies clenched tightly in his fist. I open my mouth to protest, but he automatically stops me.
“I know you said no presents, but, you love them, and..” He stops talking, waiting for my reaction, almost looking a little frightened, probably remembering my reaction from my birthday.
“They’re perfect.” I take them and he still looks slightly nervous, staring at the flowers in my hand. I look at the stems of the flowers and run my hands over the small charm on the necklace chain holding them together.
“Niall, I..” I’m at a loss for words, surprised at how choked up I am at such a small symbol. I look up at him and see his expression, still worried about how I’ll react. “You still shouldn’t have.”
“You’re worth it.” He says it so matter of factly that I smile and stand up, pulling him with me. He stands there awkwardly, still unsure of what I’m thinking, but when I bury my face in his chest and wrap my arms around him, I feel his shoulders relax and his hands wrap around my waist. I don’t move, taking in the smell of his shirt and the feel of his arms protecting me before I look up at him.
“Happy one year anniversary, Taylor,” and he leans down to peck my nose.
