“Every now and then, I fall apart!”
Singing along to my iPod, I danced around my apartment with my dog at my heels. Home alone. A good movieandsituation! Music up, no one to tell you to turn it down. Well, unless you’re in my situation and your crabby upstairs neighbors aren’t exactly music lovers. But I play my music anyway. Hey, I said they weren’t music lovers, I never said I cared.
After “Total Eclipse Of The Heart” came “Heart Attack” My favorite! I paused my iPod, unplugged my earbuds, and cranked up the volume. A few bangs on the floor told me the neighbors were not directioners. Or anything for that matter. I turned it down a little bit but continued to sing which, in my defense, they have never complained about before.
One of the benefits ofliving in a really popular hotel in a really big city is you never know who you’ll run into. Or perhaps who will run into you. Also, in my building, the rule is you can have your music on until 10:00pm. It’s 5:32pm. The volume limit is 50. It’s on 25. So, I should be partying worry free, right? Wrong.
“C’mon c’mon, and dance with me, baby!”
I pressed pause and ,swishing my hips, went to answer the door. Before I could even say ‘Hello’, Mr. Chris, my upstairs neighbor,grabbed my shoulders and began shaking me. Hard. I screamed and tried to push him off but he held fast and continued to assult me.
“HOW MANY TIME DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO SHUT THE H*LL UP?!”
“Hey! Let go of her!”
I heard footsteps and someone call out and screamed louder. Mr. Chris continued his attack.
“STOP! LEAVE HER ALONE!”
An arm reached out and knocked him away from me. I wobbled on my feet but the same arms supported me. My eyes came back to focus and I saw Mr. Chris catch himself on the wall. Stomping back over, he reached out and tried to grab me again. I flinched but my rescuer stepped infront of me, keeping one hand on my waist. Mr. Chris turned as red as the polo shirt I was held to and yelled.
“WHO DO TOU THINK YOU ARE, BLONDIE?! MIND YOUR OWN BUISINESS!”
“I THINK YOU SHOULD GO!”
His Irish accent rang through the hall. Mr. Chris stood and stared at the man then tried on last time to lunge at me. The man blocked him from me and shoved him back.
“I SAID GET THE H*LL OUT OF HERE! NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE NYPD!”
Mr. Chris let out a deep growl but retreated upstairs to his apartment. The man mumbled something then turned to me.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
I was leaning on his arm, still a bit light in the head. I tried to stand on my own but failed.
“Ye-No, no I’m not…”
“Whoa! Easy, there.”
He caught me before I fell.
“I won’t let you fall…”
Holding my chin, he examined my face.
“Here, let me see you.”
I let out a small gasp. Niall Horan! Niall Horan rescued me! I tried to keep my cool but, once agian, became weak at the knees and, once again, he caught me.
“This is your house? Here, let’s get you inside.”
He led me inside, sat me down on the couch and went to find the kitchen. Once he did, he came back with a damp towel. Placing it on my head, he sat next to me.
“Not sure if that will actually help. I saw it in a movie once.”
“No, it feels good, thanks.”
I smiled weakly. Niall returned it and shyly motined for me to lay in his lap. I did so happily. He ran his fingers through my hair. At this point, I had almost completely forgotten that this was a celebrity. Now, he was just my hero. My eyes grew heavy and I felt tired.
I yawned and closed my eyes, feeling warm and safe with his arms around me.
“…for saving me.”
He chuckled a little and whispered.
“A Horan never ignores a damsel in distress.”
I smiled up at him. Right before I fell asleep, I heard him murmur.
“Sleep well, princess…”