Hope for the Hopeless

I spent all night thinking of what had just happened. I’d normally run to grandparents for help at times like this. And in just a snap, all my problems would disappear. It never really crossed my mind that I could actually be as bold and brave as I am now, agreeing to this odd job that was offered by that Irish prick. Only God knows what’s going on in that guy’s mind.

The next morning, Casey was already up when I came in our small kitchen. She had her head resting on an arm. Her face looked distressed and she was just plain lifeless. “Mornin’.” She mumbled.

“What’s up with you? You look pretty drained.” I said.

She sighed. “I’m just worried about you, Arya. I mean, Niall’s a really nice guy. Trust me. But he could get pretty mental, especially nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ahh, it’s nothing. Just be careful, okay? I’ll let you figure him out. You’re a wise girl, I’m sure working for him would be easy-peasy and he’ll probably just ask you to run errands for him.” She said with a forced enthusiasm in her voice.

I decided to buy it. “Yeah sure, I promise I’ll be careful. Besides, what could that jerk do to scare me off?” I scoffed, and Casey finally laughed.

“You looked pretty much like you were about to piss your trousers yesterday.” She teased.

“Oh shush. It was only a show, you know, so he’d go soft on me.” I winked, making her laugh harder.

After we had breakfast, Casey handed me a piece of paper that had the bloke’s address on it. She said Niall called since he needed to get some laundry done. And I was doing it for him. I grunted as realization came over me. I’ll probably be working as this guy’s maid for 28 straight days. This is just fucking great.

“It could be worse.” Casey said, smiling like an idiot. “He could ask you to bathe him and wash his undies.”

I felt my breakfast rise up to my throat. “Please stop.”

Casey immerged into laughter as I went to prepare myself for probably a very horrendous day. After showering, I slipped on my favourite pair of jeans and an overly-used shirt that had Kurt Cobain’s face on it, wore my sneakers and headed out to serve that rich imbecile who’s apparently my ‘boss’ now. Just thinking of it made me want to vomit.

It took me about 45 minutes to get to his house and 10 more minutes before I finally decided to knock. A few seconds later, the door swung open and a fresh-from-the-shower Niall came out with that same damn annoyed look on his face. “There’s a doorbell you know, and you’re late.” He stated.

I rolled my eyes as he led me inside. His house wasn’t that big, it wasn’t small either. His kitchen was bigger than my apartment though, and he had a closet made for his freaking snapbacks. “Here, and I need that suit in there before 6 p.m.” he said, handing me a bag full of his used clothes.

“Where am I going to get these washed?”

He grinned. “That isn’t really my problem.” He said before turning his back on me and walking to the kitchen. “Oh by the way, I need you to be back here at 4. So hurry up.”

Bossy jerk, if I didn’t owe him money I would’ve shoved his laundry up his ass. I even had to call Casey for help, since I obviously have no idea where I could get all these clothes cleaned.

I got back a little past 4, with a bag of clean clothes and a headache. I found Niall sitting at his living room, watching the sports channel. “Uh…I’m back?”

He turned around to face me, looking annoyed and pissed as usual. “You’re late, it’s 4:15. I said I need you here by 4.”

“Jeez, I was only late for fifteen minutes! It’s not something you should be too upset about.” I retorted. He only glared at me in return.

“Come here.” He said smugly, heading upstairs.

I followed him while struggling with the undeniably heavy bag full of clothes. He didn’t even bother helping me at all. I stumbled upon his door way, dropping the bag on his carpeted floor. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Take it all out and put it in the closet, duh.”

Arrogant bitch. I complied; taking out one article of clothing after another, while Niall disappeared inside his bathroom. After a while, he came out wearing the gray tux he had me cleaning up earlier.
“How do I look?” he asked, walking around while fixing his undershirt.

It really didn’t matter what he looked like to me. “You look fine.”

“What?” he asked. A hint of surprise was in his voice. “Just, fine?”

“Y-yeah, it looks fine.” I stammered. He obviously wasn’t amused with my answer.

“This suit costs thousands. And to you, it just looks fine?” He was looking at me intently, a bit of hope, dismay and annoyance in his eyes.

“Uh…alright, it looks great—perfect, even.” I stated. But he was already childishly upset at my disinterest in his outfit.

He grunted, rolling his eyes at me. “Alright, you can go now. I need you to be here at 7 a.m. tomorrow.”