Friends, Lovers, or Nothing? (Sequel to Summer Love)

Things have gotten better slowly. Excruciatingly slow, to be exact. I saw Niall every now and again, but I refused to acknowledge his existence. I despised the guilty feeling I got when I looked at him nowadays. I knew he wanted to talk to me, but I knew I'd do something stupid if I did. Sometimes, he wasn't even home. Occasionally on those days, I would go speak with Maura, keeping tabs on how and what Niall was doing. Telling me concert dates and when he had to go in for recording sessions. These conversations stayed secret between us. That is, until Niall walked in on us one day. He stared at us, taken aback by my presence. I shifted uneasily in my spot on the couch next to Maura. I looked down at my reflection in my tea.

"It's good to see you." Niall said, shutting the door behind him. I kept my face low, avoiding his persuading, blue eyes.

"So,what are you doing here?"

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4. New Friendship?

"Arabella? Arabella, wake up dear." my father gently shook my awake. I dazedly opened my eyes. Jillian was rubbing her own, both of them still in there pajamas. It was still dark, so I looked at my clock. It read 3:30 in the morning.

"What's going on?" I sat up, suddenly clear-headed.

"It's about your mother." he shrugged. I watched my hands. We often never talked about my mother. Not since her 'nervous breakdown' and such.

"Okay," I finally said.

"Well, she tried to kill herself in her rehabilitation center today. They've put her on some strong medication, and visits aren't required. But...she specifically asked for you."

"What?" I whispered almost inaudibly.

"Now I know what you're thinking, but the doctors said she was hoping in begging you for forgiveness, if it is at all possible. I know it probably can't ever make up for what you've lost, but she's still your mother." he lowered his voice gradually.

"Do I have to?" I asked.

"Well, no. Not exactly." he messed frivolously with his hands.

"Then I'm not going." I rolled over on my side.

"But--"

"You said it yourself. It'll never make up for what I've lost. Maybe one day I'll feel up to it, but for now, the answer is no." I pulled up my blanket.

"I understand," he sighed heavily,"sorry to wake you."

"No bother." I replied before he shut the door behind himself.

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Next Day

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I woke  up feeling sluggish. Dad had woken me up about five hours ago, but honestly, I hadn't gotten much sleep before that anyways. Maybe some fresh air would wake me up. Pulling on some white skinnies, I matched it up with a pink, striped sweater and some uggs. Before I left my house, I grabbed a pencil and some sketch paper. Drawing usually helped my clear my thoughts.

I walked to the park just a few blocks away and sat on a bench that was under the shade of a tall oak. Immediately, I began configuring my newest drawing. I was almost finished when I felt some one take a seat beside me.

"That's quite lovely." a familiar, thick British accent said. I looked up to see Harry smiling admirably at my drawing.

"I'm not very good." I blushed.

"What are you talking about? This is amazing." he held it up as to compare it with the actual landscape. Now that he mentioned it, it did look pretty accurate.

"You know what," he added,"you should definitely draw me in there, like, walking towards you or something. No! Wait! Draw us sitting right there." he pointed to where I'd drawn the tree. "Laughing and smiling and what not."

I gave a little sigh.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I don't exactly laugh or smile much anymore." I told him.

"Well why not?" he scoot closer to me.

"It's..." I searched for a word,"complicated."

"Well I'm always here if you need me," he put his hand on mine. I blush crept into my cheeks.

Next thing I know, Harry is tickling me. I squirmed like mad, cackling, begging him to stop.

"Please," I gasped.

"Fine." he smiled. I playfully punched him in the arm.

"I don't know why you don't smile more often. It's beautiful." he pinched my chin softly.

"Uhm, thanks." my quavered.

He smiled at me, giving me a warm feeling. I did as he suggested, drawing us on the lawn of the park, having a good time. Once I'd finished sketching out the details, I gracefully scribbled my signature in the bottom right corner  of the page.

"My turn." he said, taking my pencil.

"Wha--"

"I contributed! I gave you the idea."

"Fine, I'll give you that." I laughed. His signature was just as gorgeous as he was, and it reminded me of when he signed my shirt awhile ago. He returned my pen.

"Now, I'm an artist on paper." he smiled. "So why are you here?"

I sighed, letting my eyes roam. "Just some bad news."

"Well lets not dwell on that! Here, I'll treat you to a good time. Come on!" he pulled my arm.

"But--"

"Lets go!" He put his hand on the small of my back, pushing me. Weird, though. His hand felt so comfortable there, so natural. With that, he pushed me down the street to an Ice Cream Shoppe.

-----------------

Haz, as I have come to call him, walked me home. We licked at our cones to keep them from dripping. We stood on my front step, saying our goodbyes.

"Thanks, Haz. I had a great time." I gave him a warm smile.

"Anytime. I love spending time with you." I blushed. Geez, he was awfully upfront.

"Ditto. Maybe, we could do this again sometime." I stuttered. He seemed surprised. "Well, see you soon." I kissed him on the cheek. He smiled like a child.

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Niall's POV

"Go get the mail, sweetheart." my mum called from the kitchen.

"Got it." I pulled on a white t-shirt, matching with my black sweats as I stepped outside. I opened the mailbox to pull out a magazine with none other than One Direction on the front cover. I flipped to our interview page, reminiscing when I saw Arabella and Harry walking down the street, ice cream in hand. They were on her stoop, talking and smiling. Then I can't believe what I saw. She leaned over and kissed him. It was on the cheek, but still. That meant something. Rage boiled inside me, filling me to the brim. I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. Walking back into my house, I slammed the door behind me.

"Honey, what's wrong?" my mother held a rag as she walked from the kitchen.

"Not right now," I waved her away, biting my tongue to keep from yelling.

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