Choking on air this time, I practically yelled, "She doesn't need a hook up! She needs to be alone. She needs to get her head on straight. She's thinks she's not worth anything to anyone. She doesn't need some random hookup or new boyfriend. She needs to be---" "With you?" She looked at me oddly, expectantly, smugly. I coughed, "What?!" Just then Harry came up behind her. "What's going on here?" "Nothing. I'm just forcing Niall here to realize what's right in front of him." "That sounds like a terrible idea." "What the fuck are you two talking about?" I asked. "Oh, I don't really want them to hook up, Harry. I wanted to see what his reaction would be. I want Niall here to finally fucking notice. I mean, for god sake's we've all had to watch it the last year and a half." "What the fuck is going on?!" I yelled, causing anyone within earshot to look over at me, including Esta. She looked at me, concern on her face. "He clearly needs someone to spell it out for him and if his own bandmates won't do it, then I will! Someone needs to tell him before she finds some other loser who doesn't deserve her." "Tell me what?" I asked, still completely lost. Kendall turned to me, "Tell you that you're in love with Esta."

(COMPLETED currently EDITING) Olivia Smith is a sweet, shy and funny 17 year old from England who gets discovered by Simon Cowell. Follow her journey as she lives her dream and creates music. Little does she expect to find love but how long will it last when he happens to be Niall Horan. How will she cope with aggressive fans, hate, love, loss, the everyday problems of dating 1/5 of the most famous boyband in the world and a creepy stalker who can't seem to back off until the worst happens. Can she get through the tough times, the complications, and irrational jealousy while maintaining her career? Can love conquer all or will she go back to being the shy girl nobody knew? Copyright © 2013, @TheMagicWords ALL RIGHTS RESERVED NOTE: Any songs, famous people, or famous events are not of my creation and I do not take responsibility for them. Everything else is my own work, so please don't steal my ideas.

If you think that this is another story of the "good girl" falling in love with the "bad boy", you're probably right. Except this time, the roles are reversed. Disclaimer: Story contains strong language, adult themes and sexual content. Spotify Playlist in my bio!

"Throughout the years, people have told me we're too young. We're too young for marriage and we're too young to be parents. Some people actually told me that marrying young would be the end of my freedom. But it wasn't. Marrying young has been one of the best decisions I've ever made. I still enjoyed going to bars, or dancing in clubs. Then at 2am I would stumble back home with her and we would eat pizza in our underwear. When I was nineteen I knew I wanted to kiss those lips every morning, and every night before we fell asleep, for the rest of my life. So to all those people who told me we were too young, all I can say is that they're wrong. If you see marriage as the end of your freedom, you're doing it wrong." *** This is a story about fighting for the one, your one true love. It's a story about finding yourself. It's a story about reality and the future, and how it may change your life. This is a story based on a song.

† 𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 /ˈ𝔩ɪ𝔪ə𝔯ə𝔫𝔰/ 𝔞𝔡𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢: 𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔣𝔦𝔵𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫; 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔶; ∴ 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 † "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.

// In the neon-lit streets of New York City, Ivory Mancuso is just another law intern - overwhelmed by her demanding future and the weight of her dad's ecpectations. When a late-night walk leads her to a shocking crime scene, everuthing she thought she knew about her life shatteres. The man responsible? Niall Horan, a name known to millions, but to her, he's just another dangerous stranger with piercing blue eyes and a deadly smile. "You didn't see anything, did you love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His tone was sarcastic, like he found this whole situation amusing. Like he'd done this before. "We're ghosts."