Pawn Shop Blues

Olivia McGuiness was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that her best friend in the whole world was dating an international icon.

She pinched the soft flesh just above her elbow the first time he walked into their dorm room just because she couldn’t believe Harry Styles had just come through the door. She had to pinch harder when Daria Holmes went forward to kiss him hello. And she just about fainted when he introduced himself and called her by name.

“So you must be Olivia,” he'd greeted, that same smile she’d seen on the telly a million times suddenly just inches from her face. She didn’t understand how Daria wasn’t freaking out more. Every time Olivia saw her roommate’s face on the cover of The Sun, she had a mini-heart attack. Though those days, it was becoming a regular occurrence.

On October 31st, Olivia sat at her desk in the room she shared with Daria, getting ready to go out to some posh Halloween event with some of Harry’s friends. More namely, the boys of One Direction. Every so often, as conversation fluttered through the room, she would pinch herself again just to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Their closest friends from down the hall sat on the floor rather calmly, as they were rather posh and used to this thing. Elizabeth, or Litzy as she preferred, was the heir to some immeasurable fortune and when she wasn’t attending school at the University of Birmingham, she lived a phenomenal townhouse in Sloane Square, one of the nicest areas in London. Poppy, the quieter of the two, lived just down the street in Sloane Square in an equally aristocratic house. They’d been friends since they were in diapers. They met at a party thrown by Margaret Thatcher.

Olivia couldn’t imagine that kind of life, where going to a fancy nightclub in downtown London for a Halloween party with the members of an world-famous boy band was something you could shrug off with the flick of a mascara wand. Olivia was from Downpatrick, born and raised. And nothing, nothing exciting ever happened in Downpatrick. On the Wikipedia page, the new Eclipse Cinema was listed as a place of interest.

“Christ, Olivia, you even make putting on makeup look like an art form,” Litzy complained as she lacquered on lipstick to suit her costume as one of the Pink Ladies from Grease. “Share some of your talent, would you?”

“Are you joking?” Olivia countered, peering into the mirror at her desk as she layered gold glitter on her eyelids. “I’m so nervous for tonight my hands are shaking like I have fucking Parkinsons.”

She was going as a Grecian goddess, an ambitious costume in retrospect as Poppy sat in her competed low-key baseball player costume, Daria in a simple black dress and a cat mask, and Litzy finishing her outfit with a pair of pearl earrings. And she’d hardly even finished.

“You’re nervous?” Daria reiterated incredulously. “I’m meeting my boyfriend’s best friends tonight. The people he spends every waking minute together. This is the final test and I’m absolutely freaking out about it.”

“Wanna drink about it instead?” Litzy suggested, pulling a handle of vodka from her oversized designer purse. It didn’t take much time for both Daria and Olivia to lunge on it, desperate to calm their nerves.

Though no one else was aware of it the way she was, there was an underlying reason for Olivia’s nerves. Tonight would be another chance for her to encounter one Niall Horan. Harry’s band mate and best mate.

She’d only met him once before, at the very club they would be attending for the Halloween party. One of Litzy and Poppy’s 6 other roommates down the hall, Violet (an insufferable, pompous bitch, to put it kindly) had a brother in law who happened to own the club, and seemed to be able to get them in just about any time they wanted – the only perk of having her around. The downside was that she was always tagging along when no one wanted her around.

And it was because of Violet that when Niall Horan had offered to buy her a drink at the bar, Olivia had hardly gotten to know him, because Violet puked just moments later and took the whole party back to Sloane Square. Olivia could still remember the words Niall had shouted to her as she left him on the dance floor.

“Next time, you have to dance with me!”

October 31st was next time.



She found him almost away at the bar, the place where you should find any good Irishman. He looked rather like himself for being in a Halloween costume, she had to admit, wearing a baseball jersey and hat similar to Poppy’s. His face lit up immediately when he saw the group of girls approaching (Violet nagging along in the background, unfortunately), breaking his harassment of the bartender to great them, pint in hand.

“Daria!” he cried, stumbling towards them to greet her – they’d met once before too, just as briefly as Olivia had. “I’m so glad you’re finally here! We’ve been waiting ages!”

He wrapped her in a sloppy hug, and it was apparent from his wild limbs that he was already pretty intoxicated. This put Olivia at ease a little, knowing that he probably would embarrass himself way before she did. He spattered on with Daria about Harry’s whereabouts while the rest of the group went forward to buy their drinks. Olivia hung back awkwardly, waiting to say hi to Niall. But admittedly, she’d had her fair share to drink on the way from Birmingham to London, and was feeling pretty inebriated herself.

Finally, Harry materialized out of what appeared to be thin air, and Niall turned his sights on him. The breath caught in her throat at the crispness of his blue eyes, shaded just slightly by the flat brim of his hat. Feathers of his blonde hair stuck out haphazardly beneath it, smile wide and again, a little sloppy at the sight of her.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Niall hummed proudly, wrapping his arm around her waist in a lazy half hug. He had an affinity for emphasizing one word in his sentences when he had been drinking, Olivia had already realized. That was one of her odd talents – catching things about people that would normally slip through the cracks.

Olivia laughed. “Yep, here I am!”

Niall leaned in a little closer to her, the pulsing bass of the club music making it difficult to carry on a normal conversation. “This is going to make me sound like an absolute prick, but you are…?”

Olivia blanched. They’d never even gotten a chance to introduce themselves the last time they were together, it had been so brief. She had been so nervous to see this boy again and he didn’t even know her first name.

“Olivia!” she exclaimed over the bass.

His grin widened. “Niall!” he introduced, though Olivia already knew. “And I know an Irishwoman wants a drink! Even though you sound like you’re a northerner.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Good ear!” she complimented, because she’d always felt her accent was never particularly distinct. “But being from the north doesn’t make me any less Irish. I’ll drink you under the table, Niall.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

In moments, she had a drink in her hand and Niall was whisking her up the stairs to the ludicrous V.I.P. lounge, star studded and excellently staffed. Niall chuckled a little bit as he lead Olivia to the band’s table, which was actually empty. Everyone else was already out dancing – she glanced over her shoulder and saw Daria grinding on Louis Tomlinson and nearly had a coronary.

“You look properly freaked out,” Niall teased, scooting in next to her at the booth. “It’s a bit overwhelming, yeah?”

“I don’t normally do things like this!” she exclaimed, the blush rising to her cheeks. She had been trying her hardest to seem calm, cool, and collected around Niall, but she’d apparently failed miserably.

She’d been looking forward to encountering Niall again since the minute she walked away from him. On the tough days, that was the little nugget she carried around with her – those eight little words he called after her when she left him on the dance floor. She’d mulled it over in her head and built it up to be this great night of drinking and dancing, ending in a kiss, and now she was ruining it with her nerves.

He grinned. “Have you ever had a shot of Grey Goose before? It’s mental. Shots on me!”

He ordered one from the wait staff before she could even answer. And then he proceeded to babble on about how amazing the club was, how awesome the songs was, how terrible of a dancer Louis was, essentially anything he could think of as they continued to drink more and more. Olivia tried her best to keep her mouth shut to prevent herself from saying anything stupid. Eventually, Niall grabbed her hand, sending an electric current straight through her blood stream.

“Come on, I’ve been talking for quite long enough,” he insisted, pulling her from the booth. “I believe you owe me a dance, Miss Olivia.”

So they danced together to some Lil’ Jon song, her body grazing his to the rhythmic beat in the best way she could manage given how drunk they both were. His hands rested loosely on her hips as she tried her best to move them in the most understatedly noticeable way. She caught Daria’s eye across the dance floor and gave her a weak thumbs up, hoping that her friend’s night was going a little more smoothly than hers.



Once everyone was securely pissed, they made the trek back to Harry’s amazing house in North London. Olivia could have cried walking through the door – it was an artistic work of interior design art. She knew there was no way that Harry could have put it all together himself; a professional must have come in to help him. She demanded with drunken resolve to meet his designer because she simply had to speak with them about the way they mismatched patterns.

She didn’t get much father in her exploration of the house before she crashed on a luxurious couch in his living room, the ceiling spinning a bit above her. Niall really had gotten her absolutely dickered. Not that he even realized it, because he was significantly drunk to, having disappeared somewhere in the depths of the house.

“Has anyone seen Daria?” Harry asked after a while, peeping his head in the living room to find Olivia spread on the couch and Zayn in a starfish position on the ground in a rather lazy Greaser costume.

Just at that moment, a shattering sound came from another room, followed by Violet violently shouting, “Sorry!” Harry rolled his eyes, teeth gritted a bit. It seemed that Violet was starting to rub on his nerves the same way she’d begun to rub on everyone else’s.

“I’ll go look for her, you clean up whatever the bloody hell that was,” Zayn grumbled, peeling himself off the carpet to find Daria. Olivia attempted to move with him but couldn’t – the thought of it made her head spin.

And where had Niall gone? Danced with her at the club, bought her drinks, and then disappeared. Even on the way home, he was chatting with Poppy like she didn’t even exist. If she were in more control of her motor functions, Olivia would have pinched herself for thinking that she ever stood a chance with Niall Horan, that she could ever actually hold his attention.

Just as she was allowing her glittered eyelids fall shut, she felt a body fall into the plush cushioning next to her. Bubbles fizzed in her brain as she turned her head to see a shirtless Niall, grinning lazily in her direction.

“I see you’ve found the comfiest spot in the whole house,” he slurred, letting his head fall back against the couch. “But I doubt that toga is comfortable to sleep in.”

“Where’d you get off to?” she asked slowly, ignoring his seductive comment about her toga.

Only, she didn’t receive a response more than a low hum from Niall’s lips. She turned her head back to the ceiling, trying to get her wits about her, leaving a silence between them for a while. All of her willpower was skittering out of control, leaving her with lips parted and prepared to tell Niall how she really felt.

“I know this is ridiculous and I really should just keep my mouth shut but you got me really fucking drunk and I don’t think I know any better at this point,” Olivia muttered, her words blending together, just barely distinguishable from one another. “But I really fancy you, for whatever stupid reason. And I think it would be really great if we could just get a snog in or something like that.”

But she heard nothing from Niall except for snores. He’d fallen asleep. Thank god.