Lost in London

Reilly woke up and immediately felt confused when she found herself in her bed. The last thing she remembered was crying on Niall's shoulder, and him trying to convince her that everything was going to be alright. She didn't remember coming into her room. She didn't remember saying goodbye to him.

Fear of having done something incredibly stupid seized her as she slowly, carefully rolled over. While she didn't make one night stands a habit, she had, on rare occasions, made some choices she was less than proud of. She let out a sigh of relief when she didn't find anyone, specifically a blond haired boy, next to her.

Rolling over again, she reached for her phone. She had, as usual, woken up ten minutes before her alarm went off. She turned off the alarm and threw her blankets off, revealing that she was still wearing her clothes from yesterday. For a moment she considered sending Niall a text and asking him what happened, but quickly decided against it.

As soon as she opened her bedroom door, she could hear cabinets and drawers opening and closing in the kitchen. She approached cautiously, but was fairly certain she knew who she would find when she got to the end of the hall. She was right.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

Niall jumped, startled by the sound of her voice. "Did I wake you?" he asked as he turned around to face her.

She shook her head. "Did you sleep here?" she asked.

"I slept on the couch. You fell asleep early and I thought you might wake up in the middle of the night. I didn't know if I should leave," he explained, sounding unsure of himself.

"It's fine," she said and took a seat on one of the bar stools in front of the counter. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

Niall's hair that had been pushed up in front the night before had fallen and lay messily across his forehead. He had taken off the button down shirt and wore only a white undershirt with his jeans. He held a frying pan in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

"You're out of tea," he said, not answering her question.

"I know. I finished it the other day and haven't had the chance to get more," she replied, and then asked once again, "Niall. What are you doing?"

He set down the items in his hands and looked directly at her. His blue eyes seemed even brighter than usual next to the blond of his hair. "I'm makin' you something to eat," he said.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want to," he told her. She sighed quietly but didn't argue any further. It never seemed to get her anywhere with him.

She wasn't used to being taken care of. Taking care of herself was something she'd always just done since her mother died. She made her own food, washed her own dishes, did her own laundry, got herself to and from soccer practices and games as well as dance practices and recitals. Of course her father had been around, and then eventually her step mother, but neither showed much interest in helping her. As it was, Lexie's mother was the one who taught her how to drive.

But these were things Niall didn't know, and things she wasn't ready, or sure how to tell him. How exactly do you tell someone that your father and your sister, who never understood you in the first place, blame you for your mother's death and therefore wanted nothing more than for you to be out of their lives? It was a touchy subject.

She watched Niall for a little while before she began to grow restless. She tapped her fingers against the counter top while she looked around for something to distract her from the fact that she was doing nothing but waiting.

"Are you alright?" Niall asked.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "It's just kind of weird to have someone cook for me. I've been making my own food for five years now."

"Wait a second. How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen."

Niall set down the spatula he'd been holding and stared at her for a moment. "You've been doin' all your own cooking since you were thirteen?" he asked.

She continued drumming her fingers for a bit and then stopped abruptly. "Yes," she said, as her eyes landed on the stack of textbooks on the table. "You know what? I'm going to work on some of my homework while you finish that," she told him as she slid off the stool and into the chair a few feet away.

"You should blow off your schoolwork for the day and hang out with me," he said. "We'll go do something fun. Whatever you want."

Reilly shook her head slowly as she flipped through the pages of a textbook. "Can't. I have a class today," she said, distractedly.

"All day?" he asked, but she had become so absorbed in the book in front of her that she didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken. "What class?" he tried again, but still got no response. "Reilly," he said, raising his voice slightly to get her attention.

Her head snapped in his direction. "I'm sorry. What?" she asked.

"What class do you have today?"

"Oh. German."

"You're learnin' German?" he asked and she nodded, her eyes once again glued to the page of the textbook. "Do you know any other languages?" he asked.

She nodded and closed the book. It was clear she wasn't going to get any work done. "English, obviously, French and Spanish. I'm taking second year Italian and first year German," she told him.

"Wait. You're learnin' two different languages at the same time?" he asked.

"Yeah. I learned French and Spanish at the same time. The trick is to not start learning them at the same time. Stagger the years. It makes it so much easier. Next year I'm probably going to start learning either Russian or Dutch. I haven't decided yet."

"What are you studying, exactly?" he asked.

Reilly turned to look at him. He was focused on cooking. "I'm doing three different programs, actually. Psychology and Language Sciences, Neuroscience, and Language and Culture." He looked up from what he was doing and straight at her with wide eyes. "I'm really interested in how the human brain works. You know, what makes us do the things we do. And I love learning new languages and about other cultures. I'm probably going to spend a summer studying in Italy," she said.

"Sounds like a lot," he observed.

"It is," she agreed. "It's two 3-year programs and one 4-year program. But some of the classes overlap. So, if I keep taking classes at the rate I'm taking them right now, I should be able to finish everything in five years," she explained.

Finally, he joined her at the table, setting a plate and fork down in front of her. She thanked him and poked at her food with an expression he couldn't read. Something about her suddenly felt closed off. He tried to ignore it as he speared some eggs with his fork. But the silence started to get to him after awhile.

"Do I make you nervous?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. The inquiry took her by surprise, and, smart as she was, no other coherent thoughts formed inside her head.

"Am I makin' you uncomfortable?" he rephrased.

It took a moment for her thoughts to gather. "No," she said finally. "I just, I'm not used to this. It's all so foreign to me. I don't know what I'm doing."

"What do you mean? What are you not used to? Havin' a nice boy make breakfast for you?" he asked.

A smile spread across her face. "Well, yeah. I'm definitely not used to that. But I mean all of this. Last night's clothes. Breakfast conversation. Someone caring," she said.

Niall was taken aback by her blunt honesty of her last statement, but he didn't show it. "Well, I hope you start gettin' used to it. The last part, anyway. Because I don't plan on goin' anywhere," he said. Her cheeks tinted pink and she shifted her eyes to the food in front of her. "Can I walk you to school?" he asked.

Without even a moment's consideration, Reilly nodded. "Yeah," she said, the pink tint deepening. "That would be really nice."

Maybe she shouldn't have said yes. Maybe she shouldn't have opened up to him. Maybe she shouldn't have asked him to come over. And maybe she shouldn't have given him her phone number in the first place. Because she could feel it. That nagging in the back of her mind that said she would have trouble focusing when he wasn't around. That the nice things he said and did would replay in her head all day. That suddenly, she would want him to call her when she had a break at school, or randomly show up with one of the boys during her lunch hour. She knew it was the last thing she needed, but it was everything she had wanted for so long.

She hadn't gone looking for it. To the contrary, she had actually convinced herself that she was content being completely on her own, as long as she had some contact with her best friend at home. But it was as if someone or something knew, and didn't like that she was lying to herself. And it was more than just his pretty blue eyes, and his adorable accent, and his happy smile. These boys showed genuine interest in her as a person, genuine concern for her well being. The friendship they offered was something she hadn't let herself realize she had been missing.

Upon finishing her breakfast, she excused herself to get ready for the day ahead. And when she returned, her kitchen had been cleaned, and Niall once again wore the button down shirt from the night before. His hair still flopped across his forehead, giving him a slightly disheveled look that Reilly found somewhat appealing.

It wasn't far from her apartment to the school. Niall carried her books, though, true to her very nature, she put up a fight when he first tried to take them from her. They walked in comfortable silence. When they reached their destination, they stopped and looked at each other.

"Hey, Reilly, I was thinking," Niall said as he handed her books over to her. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Me, Lou, and Harry are goin' to a show tonight. Do you, maybe, want to come?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't," she paused, "I don't know."

"Alright," he said, nodding. "You think about it, and let me know what you decide. And we'll cover you, if that's what you're worried about. Gonna be a lot of fun," he told her.

She smiled shyly and gave a nod. "Okay. I'll call you later," she said as she turned away.