On the Line

I didn't have a good day. I woke up at the crack of dawn, the sun streaming in like a spotlight from the window, directly into my eyes. I tossed and turned, but my body was tingling, Lily on my mind. I had over twelve hours to kill before I could begin hunting her down on the phone, and I was willing the day away before I even crawled out of bed.
It was raining when I left the house, which was bad enough, but there was a car accident on the busiest road in London, so traffic was backed up more than usual. I had to pee, I was hungry, and if one more person honked their horn, I would surely lose my mind.
I was an hour late to the meeting, but I didn't care about that. I cared about all the good food being picked over before I got there. I had no choice but to eat a bran muffin and lukewarm orange juice while Harry filled me in on what I had missed.
The conference room was warm, too warm, and I felt myself getting sleepy, my eyelids drooping, my head becoming too heavy for my neck to support. Whoever was talking droned on and on, the subject becoming more boring by the second, and I would have fallen into a hard sleep if Liam wouldn't have continuously jabbed me in the ribs.
“Boys wanna get lunch?” Louis asked as we made our way out the doors. Zayn declined, already calling his wife to check on the bundle of joy she'd been toting around for almost nine months. Harry and Liam agreed, but I shook my head.
“Nah, I have an interview with Morgan Brehmer, I keep blowing her off.”
“You haven't done that interview yet?” Liam asked, glaring at me. I just shrugged, pulling my phone from my jacket.
“See you boys later,” I called as I turned away, heading towards the sidewalk.
To be honest, I didn't want to do the interview. Finishing this interview meant that it was done. Over. For awhile, at least. This was the farewell interview, this was the information being printed in our new, and last, book. One Direction had reached the end of the agreement we had signed a few years ago, and now we were able to take some time away from music and touring and constant attention and live normal lives. Zayn was having a baby soon, Harry had finally settled down with a girl he'd probably marry, and Louis and Liam were planning weddings.
And I wasn't doing anything. I had no plans, no way to spend my time, and no one to spend my time with. One Direction had given me a life I hadn't ever dreamed possible, and now that it was coming to a long pause, I wasn't sure what I'd end up doing besides counting down the minutes until we get back into the studio some day.
It had stopped raining, but now a cold wind had taken to the skies, and I hadn't dressed appropriately, just a thin hoodie. The wind bit at my nose and my cheeks as I walked up the road to the restaurant I'd agreed to meet Morgan at. At least I'd be able to get a decent plate of food here.
Morgan beat me here, she was shuffling through her notes as I sat down. She smiled when she looked up, a sad sort of smile. “Our last interview for awhile, Niall.”
I nodded, picking up the glass of water a waitress placed in front of me. “Yeah, so let's not rush through it. Ya hungry?”
“Yeah, I haven't eaten. Want to eat, and then do the interview? Or during?”
“I'm fuckin' starved,” I grumbled, pulling open the menu. “Hope you don't mind crumbs on your notecards. What are you getting?”
She shrugged. “I don't know, whatever soup they have on hand, just something to thaw my bones, it's wicked outside today.”
I nodded, not really listening. “Vegetable soup,” I muttered, wrinkling my nose. “I think I'll pass on that.”
“Maybe I'll get fish and chips...”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “How British of you, very charming.” She glared at me, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch.
I looked up from the menu as the waitress stepped up to take our order. “Two orders of fish and chips, please, and add her ticket to mine.”
She started asking me questions once our drinks had been refilled, and I answered to the best of my ability, but my heart wasn't in it. It was a shitty day outside, and this interview was depressing, and my chips were overcooked. The only saving grace was that Morgan had selected a seat next to the window, and now that lunch time was nearing, the street was filled with people. Business men and women chattering on cell phones about spread sheets as they ate sandwiches on the go. Nannies holding the hands of small children demanding to go to the park, college students guzzling down endless amounts of coffee to stay awake during exams.
One girl caught my eye, a college student, juggling a heavy stack of books, her lunch, a cup of coffee, and desperately trying to hail a cab. I glanced up at the sky and knew in the pit of my stomach that it would begin to rain again, any second. I looked back at her, smirking to myself. She looked stressed, her warm hat sat askew over her auburn hair that blew into her face, her cheeks pink from the wind. She jumped up and down, trying to catch the attention of a cab driver, but she was lost in the crowd. I watched as she muttered a dirty word to herself and stomped her foot, twisting her arm to check the watch on her wrist. As she did, the lid to her coffee popped off and dumped on to the concrete.
I barked out a laugh, ignoring Morgan's funny look. I wasn't laughing at the girl, I was laughing at her bad luck because it was too relatable. With her now empty hand, she wiped away at the coffee that had spilled down her maroon peacoat as the sky opened up and rain began to pour down in thick sheets.
As if they were a theatre group following a cue, every person walking past this poor girl pulled open their umbrellas and began sprinting for cover, back to their offices, back to their warm houses. The girl stood frozen in place for a moment, before she turned and began to walk away, running directly into the chest of a tall man. He bumped into her hard, knocking her to the ground, her books flailing across the sidewalk. She scrambled to pick up her stuff, and no one offered to help the poor girl, their lives were far too busy, the rain and wind far too cold.
If I hadn't been in this interview, I would have ran outside, the door was only ten feet away. I would have hit my knees and helped her gather her stuff before the rain ruined it all, and helped her to her feet. But instead, I sat in my seat and watched her struggle, my blood boiling.
“Poor girl, doesn't look like she's having a good day,” Morgan mumbled.
“People are so shitty. No one helped her,” I muttered as I watched her walk away, her clothes soaked and her hair a wet, tangled mess. Her hat sat on the sidewalk, abandoned and forgotten, soaking up the rain.
“I'm going home, I think. Nothing good is coming from today. You got all you needed?”
Morgan nodded, giving me a small smile. “Yeah, your last interview is all wrapped up.”
I stood and hugged her, squeezing her tight. “You were my favorite person to do interviews with.”
“I loved working with you, Niall. I think I'll miss you most of all.”
I ruffled her hair as I gave her a grin. “Yeah, that's because I'm the coolest. Give me a call sometime, we'll grab lunch. Take care of yourself.”
I threw cash onto the table and turned away, stopping when Morgan called my name.
“If One Direction is over, for good, don't let that be the end of your good days. Don't let that be the best time of your life. Find something that makes your bad days phenomenal...phenome-Niall,” she added, a grin stretching across her face. I rolled my eyes.
I promised her that I would, even though I couldn't think of anything that could compare.
At exactly ten o'clock that night, I collapsed onto my mattress and dialed the hotline number, my fingers shaking and butterflies dancing in my stomach.
At eleven, I hit redial for the hundreth time.
Midnight passed and I yawned as I hung up.
By two in the morning, I had almost given up, but I still tried.
At two forty-five, I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed my tired eyes. “Last call...”
“Good evening, thank you-”
“Hi,” I interrupted, impatient. “Yes, I'm at least eighteen years of age. Yes, I'm aware of what I'm paying for each minute. Yes, I know the calls are monitored.”
“Ah, a regular caller,” the operator said. “One moment, sir.”
I held my breath as the phone immediately began to ring, no porno music this time. This was my last chance to find her. Her shift would be ending soon and, even if it didn't find her, my lack of sleep was catching up with me.
She had started to come to me in my dreams, thoughts of her interrupting my sleep. I was usually in a crowded room, suffocating at the amount of bodies pressed against me. “Where's Lily?” I'd ask and they'd point, and I'd run in that direction, only to be met with more faces I didn't know. I'd wake up, sweating, my head spinning and unable to catch my breath. I napped as often as I could, skipping games on the telly to catch up on sleep.
The phone rang two more times before the line picked up.
“Good evening, how can I be of service tonight?”
I sighed. “Nevermind, I—Lily?”
“Niall? Hi! I...didn't think you were going to call.”
I laughed, sleepily. “I've been calling since your shift started.”
“You sound so tired, Niall, you should have gone to sleep,” she whispered.
“I wanted to find you. I promised.”
She sighed. “I'm glad you did.”
“I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner,” I muttered. “You sound exhausted, how--”
“I like the way your voice sounds,” she interrupted. “Sleepy and rough...It's soothing.”
I smiled. “Lay down with me,” I whispered.
“I'm already there,” she whispered back. “Been here awhile, actually.”
“I wish I were there,” I said, honestly. “I wish I could hold you.”
She was quiet and I wondered if I had crossed a line.
“How was your day?”
I sighed, my bad day making my bones ache. “Horrid. Yours?”
“The same. What happened?”
I took a deep breath and began to tell her. The early morning, bad traffic, cold rain, interviews, and, finally, the girl on the sidewalk. “...I don't know, my day had already been shitty, but I watched that girl struggle and no one offered to help, and it just really pissed me off. I'm sure all of her books are ruined, and she probably cried herself to sleep tonight. Shit, I might cry myself to sleep later.” I let out a long breath. “How was your day?”
“Also awful,” she muttered, slowly. “Wanna hear my sob story?”
“'Course.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, so I overslept this morning. I never oversleep! And, of course, I had a huge exam, and I slept through the entire class! That test is worth twenty percent of my grade! So, I jump out of bed and run to the dryer to grab my laundry, only to realize I didn't turn on the dryer before bed, so all of my clothes were still wet.”
“What did you wear?”
“Yesterdays outfit! I looked like such a slob. Anyway, I race down to the university and barge into my professors office, crying, and begged him to let me take the test. I guess he felt sorry for me, so he let me, but he had to dock me a letter grade for missing the testing period.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered. “That's so shitty. How did you do?”
“Well, I got an A, but I'm only receiving a B.”
I sighed. “I'm sorry. I mean, it's great that you did well, but...”
“Yeah. So, my other morning classes weren't important, and I was a crying, stressed out mess in dirty clothes, so I just skipped them. On my way home from class, I stopped at Starbucks for lunch and coffee. I was juggling about eight books and trying to hail a cab. I spilled my coffee, none of the cab drivers paid any attention to me, and then guess what?”
“Hmm?”
“It started to fucking rain. Like, a torrential downpour! Just buckets of rain! So, I turn to run home and some jackass bumps into me, knocks me down, and I drop all of my stuff on the ground. No one offered to help, and I lost my favorite hat.”
My eyes widened and my fingers went numb as I slowly sat up in bed. “What?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, slowly. “Yeah.”
“That...On Bates Avenue? Today?” I asked, not wanting to believe it.
“The worst place to hail a cab.”
“Maroon jacket?” I asked, my voice barely over a whisper
“It's missing its top button,” she whispered.
“Lily, I—You were right there! Right there, through a window pane! I...didn't know,” I breathed, my chest heaving.
She breathed out a laugh. “How could you have known? I didn't know you were in that restaurant.”
“I can't believe I was that close to you. Our—Our lives crossed today!” I yelled, excited, though angry.
“I wonder how many times that's happened...We must live closer to one another than we thought,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
I set the phone down on the bed for a moment and rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, picking up the phone when she said my name. “I'm so fucking pissed off,” I muttered.
“Why?” she asked, confused.
I laughed, out of anger. “Because you were so close. I looked at your face and I felt angry for you.”
“So?”
I shook my head. “I looked directly at your face, but I can't remember what you look like. I don’t remember a single feature.”
“And that makes you angry?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes. You have auburn hair, though. It's almost red when it's dry, but its very dark wet. But I have no memory of your face.”
“Be glad, I looked like-”
“You're pretty,” I interrupted, not willing to hear her self hatred. “I remember that much. I picked you out of a crowd of people because I thought you were pretty, because you caught my eye. You're very pretty.”
She was quiet for a few seconds. “Thank you,” she mumbled shyly.
I laid back, quiet. “Lillian? I know I said it earlier, and I meant it then, but I mean it more so now...I wish I were there.”
“Niall?”
“Hmm?”
“I wish you were here, too.”
“Let me come over,” I asked, half heartedly. Though I knew she'd never let me, I wished she would. After spending hours with her late at night, my bed felt empty and void of someone who had never graced the sheets.
“What do you sleep in?” she asked.
I smiled, throwing my arm over my eyes to block out the light. “Boxers.”
“That's it?”
“Yeah. What do you wear to bed?”
“Nothing special,” she giggled, shy.
“What are you wearing now?”
“A vintage t-shirt of my dads from college, and underwear,” she giggled.
I hummed in appreciation, smiling through the exhaustion I was fighting off. “Tell me about your underwear. Details, please.”
She giggled, shy. “Um...They're boyshorts.”
“The athletic ones? Like, they sort of look like spandex?”
“Uh-huh.”
She giggled as I groaned. “I like those...What color?”
“Black.”
“Oh my god, you're too much.”
She laughed softly, growing quiet before she spoke again. “I wish you were here to take them off.”
I sat up in bed, feeling my cheeks warm. “Lillian.” I scolded.
She laughed again, girly and flirty. “It's been a rough night. It's never my turn.”
I bit my lip, cursing under my breath. “Need me to help?”
“You already are,” she crooned.
“Are you?--Are you...right now?”
She laughed again. “No, no! But maybe later.”
“Jesus, Lily, if you keep this up, I might later, too.”
“Niall?”
“Mmm?”
She took in a deep breath, her mouth close to the speaker. “Tell me what you'd do.”
My stomach tightened at her words and I collapsed back onto the mattress. “If I were there?”
“Yeah...what would you do?”
“Dammit, Lillian...I...gimmie a minute.”
She laughed quietly and I closed my eyes, picturing the scene. It was hard, being unable to picture her face or her body, so I turned the lights off in the room I imagined. I let in some moonlight, or a lamp post, from the window and imagined flashes of skin as her body moved against mine, a body draped in a vintage t-shirt and black panties.
“I'd turn out the lights and lay you down on your bed and crawl over you. I'd brush my fingertips over your skin and kiss you slowly, just take time to feel your body working against mine-”
“Stop,” she said, suddenly. “Don't.”
“I...um. I'm sorry, I...”
“No, it's okay! I just...Can I be totally honest?” she asked, her voice small.
“'Course,” I mumbled, worried.
“Listen, I know we've never actually met, but...I like you. And maybe I'm crazy, but...I don't know what I'm trying to say,” she mumbled, frustrated. I fiddled with the waistband of my boxers and listened as she let out a long, shaky breath. “I just feel like, if we play our cards right, this could...I don't know.”
“That this could be something,” I finished for her. “If we play our cards right, we could be something.”
“No!” she yelled. “I don't...Yes. That's what I mean. And I don't want to smother whatever this is with sex, because-”
“I don't either,” I interrupted, shaking my head.
She sighed. “Okay. Good.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Good. Very good.” I rolled over onto my stomach. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
She laughed quietly. “You didn't. It sounded nice.”
I smiled into my pillow. “Maybe it'll be nice someday.”
“My shift is almost over,” she whispered, sadly.
“I know it,” I said back. “I'm sorry I didn't get to you earlier.”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Not handy, but I can get one,” I smiled. “Gimmie a sec.”
She waited patiently as I dug though the bedside table, finding a multitude of charging cables, candy wrappers, condoms, and random junk before finally wrapping my fingertips around a pen. “I can't find any damn paper...”
“You have an entire body made of skin,” she giggled, teasing.
I shrugged. “That'll work,” I mumbled, scribbling across my stomach to check for ink. “Okay, now let me set the mood.”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever walked up to a guy and just given him your number? No! He has to make you want to give it to him! We didn't meet in the most typical way, at least let me have the satisfaction of this little win,” I whined.
Laughing, she agreed to play.
“Alright, we're in a bar, okay? It was pretty crowded earlier, but it's late, so the place is clearing out. Let's pretend that I've been talking to you for awhile tonight, okay?”
“Sure,” she laughed. “Did you buy me drinks?”
“I'm a gentleman,” I insisted. “Of course I did.”
“Am I drunk?”
“No,” I said, sternly. “I want you to give me your number because you want to, not because Drunk Lily wants to.”
“Okay, that works for me.”
“Alright. So, the bartender has just given me the look.”
“What look?”
“The look that says, 'hey, kid, I'm not trying to ruin your night, but I want to go home, so get the hell out of my bar.'”
“Ooh, that look!” she crooned, giggling. “Okay, so now what do you do?”
“I stand up from my chair and tell you that it's getting pretty late, and that the bartender is probably ready to call it a night. So I grab your jacket and help you into it, and I pay for our drinks. I don't hold your hand, even though I really want to touch you, and I guide you outside and hail a cab for you.”
“That's very sweet of you, thanks,” she whispers.
“Oh, it's no problem, love. After witnessing your cab hailing skills this afternoon, I'm happy to assist...Hey, be careful, don't step in that puddle, it's deeper than it looks.”
“These are old sneakers, they could stand a good washing, don't worry about me,” she laughs.
“At this point,” I say, “I'd close your cab door and wait for you to roll the window down.”
“And then what do you say?”
“I had a really good time tonight.”
“I did, too.”
“Can I see you again?”
“I'd like that.”
“How about lunch? Whenever you're free.”
She sucked in a quick breath, hesitating. “How about ice cream?”
“I love ice cream,” I laugh.
“Does Sunday night work for you?”
“Sunday is great for me,” I smile. “Where would you like to meet?”
“There's a little park on Creek Court. There's a vendor in the middle of the park, a little old man. Meet me there, seven o'clock.”
“I'll be there,” I insisted, taking a deep breath. “Can I get your number?”
“No, I don't think so.”
I dropped the pen to the sheets. “What?!”
She laughed. “You got a date, Niall, isn't that enough?”
“I—but...You tricked me!”
She giggled again, amused. “You made it so easy. I'll see you in two days, Niall.”
“Wait, you're not going to let me talk to you for two days!?”
“Nope!” she laughed. “And I'm not working this weekend, so don't even try calling to find me.”
I pouted, whining. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I'm trying to see what you're made of,” she whispered.
I sighed, relaxing into my pillows. “I respect that. I will see you in two days. Two very long days.”
“Goodnight, Horany Toad.”
“Sweet dreams, my pretty Lily Pad.”
The line disconnected and I placed my phone on the bedside table, kicked back the blankets and made my way to my bathroom. I pulled back the shower curtain and removed the hat I had let hang to drip-dry. As I left the restaurant this afternoon, I picked it up as I walked by. It was dry now, just a little dirty. I'd wash it and bring it to her on Sunday night. I turned and headed back for bed, Lily's hat clutched in my fingers. I placed it on my pillow and, as I fell asleep, I breathed in the scent of a girl I hadn't yet met.