Fearless

After Niall’s dye set, he washed it out in the shower while I waited in his room. I sat on the edge of his bed, swinging my legs over the side, whistling to myself. He offered to show me how to work the television, but I declined, figuring that he wouldn’t take too long to clean himself off.

Less than ten minutes later, he knocked on the dorm door. “Um,” I called out to him, “this isn’t my room. Why would you knock?”

“Force of habit, I guess,” he explained as he walked in, clad in only a towel.

I turned away, pulling my phone out of my pocket and busying myself with it while he changed.

“You’re not going to see anything,” he chuckled when he saw my obvious attempt to keep from looking at him.

“Just being careful,” I responded without looking up.

A minute later, he told me, “It’s okay now. I’m all dressed.”

I looked up to find him rubbing the towel through his freshly light hair, the ends already starting to dry. His black t-shirt stuck to his wet body a little bit, and his light gray sweatpants were slung loosely around his waist.

“Congrats,” I replied nonchalantly.

He climbed onto the bed in the same graceful way he had earlier. “Sure you don’t want me to dye your hair?”

I laughed at him. “No, I’m good.” After a pause, I added, “Although, you’re right. I do need to re-dye it soon. The one thing I dislike about short hair is that the color grows out so quickly.”

“I second that,” Niall laughed. “So why do you dye your hair?”

I let out a sigh. “You’re going to think that I’m incredibly pretentious when I tell you.”

“No I won’t,” Niall assured me. When I gave him a look of disbelief, he followed up with, “I’m not even sure what pretentious means.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Whatever. I don’t even feel like having secrets from you.” I felt a pang in my stomach from the falseness of my statement, but I ignored it as I adjusted my position so I was sitting Indian-style, facing Niall. “Okay, so…growing up, I so obviously didn’t fit in with my family. My cousin was always all-American, beautiful, all the guys chased after her, ironically enough. And while I got my fair share of play, I was always more interested in getting out of where I was and getting into college. One day, I just decided that I should make my status as the Black Sheep of the Family official, and I dyed my hair black. And now it’s just habit, and I like it more than what I had before.”

Niall stared at me for a second before he blinked and cleared his throat. “Oh. Well. That’s way deeper than my story.”

“You still have to tell me,” I teased, grinning at him.

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Alright, well, I was sleeping over a buddy’s house with some other guys, and I was the first to fall asleep. I’m a massively deep sleeper, so they were able to carry me into the bathroom and put me in the tub, and, while I was knocked out, they used Joe’s mum’s hair dye that she kept in the closet to make me blonde.”

I laughed loudly, but Niall just kept talking, shaking his head. “At first, I was horrified, but after a while, I kind of grew to like it. So I just kept it. I should thank them for that practical joke, really.”

“Your story’s way better than mine,” I told him honestly. “I wish I had just accidentally gotten my current hair style.”

“Is that why you keep your hair short?” Niall asked.

My eyebrows drew together in confusion, so he elaborated, “To accentuate the difference between your family and you.”

“I guess,” I agreed. “Plus, short hair is way less maintenance than long hair. Been there, done that.”

Talking about my childhood, going back to the beginnings of all the troubles I had then, I started rubbing my wrist, my constant reminder that I had to be strong.

“What’s that?” Niall mused, reaching over to take my hand. His fingers were warm on the back of my hand and on my wrist as he traced over the letters.

“It’s a tattoo,” I told him plainly.

“Fearless,” he read. “Why do I feel like this wasn’t one of those drunken-night tattoos?”

“Because it wasn’t,” I chuckled. “I don’t drink. I planned getting that tattoo from when I was sixteen, and on my eighteenth birthday, I went through with it.”

“It must have hurt, getting it on your wrist like that.”

“Pain doesn’t bother me,” I answered immediately. A pang shot through my stomach as I realized that was probably one of the most morbid things I’d ever said in my life.

Niall looked up at me, into my eyes, and ran his thumb along my cheekbone. “I don’t agree with you,” he mumbled. “I think pain hurts you a lot. Way more than you’re willing to admit.”

Before I knew what was happening, he closed the space between us, his lips soft and warm on mine. A fire spread through me that I hadn’t felt in a very long time, not since the first half of high school, and I felt myself melt under his touch.

His tongue mingled with mine as he laid me down on the bed, his hands roaming under my shirt, though staying on my stomach, as if he was afraid that he’d go too far before I was ready.

And although I hadn’t let myself realize that I had feelings for Niall before that moment, I couldn’t fight off the reality anymore. I had butterflies in my stomach and all my thoughts stopped, the only thing on my mind was how good it felt to have him kissing me, to feel his body on mine as he hovered over me.

He started playing with the hem of my shirt, hesitantly, as if he was asking for permission. I pulled away from him just long enough to breathe, “Okay. It’s okay.”

My shirt was deposited onto the floor, and his soon followed suit. “God,” he whispered in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“We haven’t known each other that long,” I laughed as his lips made their way down my neck, down to my collarbone.

“Feels like we have,” he mumbled against my tender skin. A shiver went through my body as I clung to his back.

His arms wrapped around me as his mouth connected with mine once again, trying to undo my bra. Right before he was successful, he stopped and pulled away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

“Hold on,” he mumbled. “I have to put a sock on the door.”

That made everything real. There was no way I was going to have sex with Niall. I couldn’t open that door, one that might lead to a relationship in the future. It was simply too risky. He’d learn the truth eventually, and I wasn’t willing to have that happen.

“No,” I denied, hopping off the bed and pulling my v-neck shirt on over my head. “No, we can’t do this.”

He turned bright red and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he started, but I cut him off.

“No, Niall, this isn’t about you. And this isn’t going to make things awkward, okay? I’m just going to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to get coffee.”

And with that, I hurried out of the room, kicking myself over and over for loving the feeling of kissing Niall Horan.