Lost in London

It was almost exactly one hour from the time she had hung up with Niall to the time there was a knock on her door. Her computer was open for research purposes, open textbooks were spread around the table, and a piece of paper was directly in front of her, with several others scattered everywhere. She quickly finished writing something and went to answer the door.

A small smile drew across her face and a sense of relief washed over her when she opened the door and saw Niall standing there. The feeling was unexpected, but nice. His blond hair was pushed up in the front like it had been the other times she'd seen him, and he wore blue jeans and a blue plaid button down shirt.

"Hi, come in," she said, pulling the door open all the way. He stepped inside and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Hi," he said as she closed the door. "Sorry it took so long. I brought food. And beer, if you want it. I didn't know, you said you had a bad day. I thought it might help."

"I might have one. But I have a class tomorrow, so I can't repeat last weekend or anything," she said. "Let me give you the grand tour. I'll only take a minute because this place is the size of a shoebox." She pointed down a hallway to her left. "First door is the bathroom, second door is my bedroom." She began to walk to her right. "Kitchen, living room. And this," she said, walking over to the table that was covered in textbooks, "is my schoolwork. Let me just clean this up really quick. You can go get settled and turn on the TV, if you want," she said.

Niall set the beer down on the counter and popped one open. "Did you want one?" he asked.

"Um." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Yeah, sure," she said and went back to closing and stacking textbooks.

Niall put the rest of the beer in the refrigerator after popping open a second one. He carried the two open bottles, along with the bag of food, into the living room where he set everything down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He turned the TV on and began to flip through the channels.

Reilly finished cleaning up her schoolwork and joined Niall on the couch. She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail as she sat down, showing off her dark green eyes and the freckles that splayed across her nose and cheeks.

"I'm so glad you brought food because I would have completely forgotten to eat tonight," she said.

"Why do you girls do that when you get upset?" he asked, finding a game he found satisfactory and setting the remote down.

Reilly looked over at him. "What's that?" she asked.

"You either forget to eat, or you eat until you throw up," he said.

She shrugged. "I can only speak for myself when I say that my brain goes into overdrive," she said, opening the containers of food. "Ooh, this looks good. Can I have this?" she asked.

"Of course, Darlin'," he said, taking the other container.

They both fell quiet while they ate and watched the game. Reilly occasionally mumbled things under her breath at what was happening. After awhile she set her food on the coffee table and reached for her beer. She took a drink and settled against the back of the couch.

Niall glanced over at her quickly, and then back at the TV in hopes that she wouldn't notice. One of her legs was curled underneath her, the other bent at the knee with her foot on the edge of the couch cushion. She looked different with her hair pulled back, and gave off the impression of being more open. He was just about to say something, when she started yelling at the TV, disagreeing with a call that was made. He jumped, not expecting the outburst, and turned to look at her.

It took a moment for her to notice. "Sorry," she apologized when she calmed down.

"Don't be. It was a terrible call," he said.

"I used to play, and I get really into it. I guess I sort of forget that I'm not the one playing," she explained.

He raised his eyebrows. "You used to play?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes on the TV. "Yeah. I started when I was five and played all through high school. I was offered a few full soccer - er, football - scholarships from different colleges back in the states," she said.

"Why didn't you take them?" he asked.

Reilly took a drink of her beer. "It's a long story, she said vaguely. "Suffice it to say that London offered something that no college in America ever could."

"What?"

"An ocean of separation," she said.

He wanted to ask her to elaborate, but it was obvious she didn't didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he turned back to the game. There was so much about her that he didn't know, and so much that he wanted to know. It was going to take time, and patience. And he couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking the same about him.

At a break in the game, he turned to her. "Can I ask you something?" he inquired. She nodded. "You got the Irish name, but you don't look Irish, except the freckles on your cheeks, and you got the Irish nose. But your skin is too dark to be Irish and your eyes are dark as well," he said, not really asking a question.

Reilly's dark eyes sparkled as she smiled at his observations. "My father is full Irish. And my mother was half Irish, half Italian. Which makes me three quarters Irish, and a quarter Italian. I get my coloring from the Italian, which explains my dark features," she said. "Now can I ask you something?" she asked.

"Of course," he said.

"You're Irish. What are you doing in London?" she asked.

Niall let out a quiet chuckle. "Ah, okay. That's a long story. I don't want to bore you, so I'll give you the short version," he said. "I'm in a band, with the boys."

"A band," she said. "You must be pretty big if you all live on your own with no roommates," she observed. "What kind of music do you guys play?"

"Pop music. We're a boy band. One Direction." he said, shifting uncomfortably. "You really didn't have any idea? Like, none?" he asked.

Reilly shook her head. Suddenly it made sense why they all looked vaguely familiar. "I basically live under a rock," she said. "But that explains the girls at my school when you guys were there on Monday. That explains a lot, actually," she paused. "Huh, One Direction. You guys are huge over in America. I remember I used to hear that one song all the time whenever I went anywhere. Catchy," she said.

"Oh, yeah," Niall said. Reilly was taking the new information well and playing it really cool. But still, he wanted to steer the conversation anywhere else. Neither had been paying any attention to the game for a few minutes, so he went for it. "What happened today?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you had a bad day."

"Oh," she said. "I said it was a long day. Yeah. I just found out something that upset me." Niall gave her a look that urged her continue, but she hesitated. "You don't really want to know. Trust me," she said.

Niall stared at her for a moment, making her feel self conscious. She looked at the TV, at the wall, the floor, anywhere other than him. But his gaze remained on her.

"Reilly, you can talk to me. That's why you have friends. You don't have to keep everything to yourself," he said.

She let out a long, slow breath. "It's kind of a long story," she said.

"I have time," he told her.

After a moment, and a few deep breaths, she began to explain to him what Lexie had told her. She then went on to tell him who Zachary was, and what had happened. And, of course, this forced her to tell him about her poor relationship with her father and sister, though she never explained why it was the way it was.

She was in the middle of a sentence when a memory from the weekend came back to her. Her conversation with her sister. "Oh, of course," she interrupted herself. Her face felt hot as anger grew inside her.

"What?" Niall asked, confused. "Of course, what?"

Instead of answering, Reilly got up and stormed over to the table. She threw open her computer and opened Skype. No one was online. "Of course," she screamed at the screen. She began to pound on the keyboard as she continued screaming.

Concerned by her outburst, and still very confused, Niall walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off immediately, still yelling at the machine in front of her. Nothing she said was making any sense.

"Reilly," he said softly. He gently took hold of her hands and pulled them away from the computer keyboard. "Reilly," he said again. "Calm down. Take a breath. Tell me what's wrong." Tears were streaming down her face when she looked up at him. "Talk to me," he said.

"I'm done with her," she said through ragged breaths.

"With who?" he asked.

"Fallon."

"Okay," he said, moving his hands from hers and up to her elbows. He gently pulled on her arms, and she stood. His hands slid back down to hers and he guided her back into the living room, onto the couch. He kept his hands on hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I hate when girls cry. It hurts me," he said. "What happened with you and your sister?" he asked.

Her dark green eyes were bright against the red veins caused by the tears. She took a deep breath, and then another.

"Last weekend," she began, and then drew a breath in. "She told me Zachary was back. She said left while I was still there, and came back after I left. And she said I was the reason he left in the first place. He couldn't stand to be around me," she said as she dissolved into tears once again. "That's why I ended up at the bar."

Without a word, Niall pulled the weeping girl to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Her entire body shook against his. Words eluded him. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be upset, that there were people who cared about her. But he could tell that she felt too broken to be receptive to such information.

He leaned back into the corner of the couch, bringing her with him. Her head rested against his chest as she continued to cry. He kept his arms protectively around her, trying to make her feel safe. It was all he could do, because peace wasn't something he could give her.