Nobody Compares

When Addison Selley's family is killed in a car crash, she's forced to live with her new guardian until she turns eighteen- her cousin Harry Styles. Yes, that Harry Styles.
However, a distraction arises in the form of a blonde Irishman.
Right. There's just one foreseen problem. And that problem is Niall Horan.


*WARNING* coarse language, sexual scenes, violence. :)

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14. sleep talker

 

 

 

"Oh please," Niall scoffed, "As if you didn't see them in the time it took to fill a twenty-picture long celebrity album!"

"I wasn't concentrating on who was taking photos of me out the window!" I shot back, as he walked across the apartment, snatching up the yellow envelope. I stared at it suspiciously as he marched back and stood over me, as I sat on the couch. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the table. There was rip as he started tearing the envelope viciously open, and little shreds rained down on me and got tangled in my hair.

"Who's that from?" I asked, confused.

"A fan." What? Oh my fucking god.

I huffed as he finally got the contents out; all twenty of the photos on the celebrity gossip website SugarGossip, printed onto A4 sized photo paper. It was more embarrassing to see them blown up to size.

"Here," he spat, throwing the glossy pictures on to my lap. "Are you happy?"

"Why would I be happy?" I snapped, shifting them. There was one of the two of us leaning close to each other and I was grinning like an idiot, which made it look particularly bad.

"Is this what you want?" he continued angrily, "Simon made you move in, and you get pissed so you fetch your fucking manwhore from Holmes who you can pose with for a celebrity photographer?"

"It's not like that!" I said staunchly firm, sitting up.

"No?" he demanded, leaning down and snatching them off my lap. He shuffled through them, fury in his eyes, before he pulled one out and shoved it in my face. "Well, what does this look like?" This one was particularly bad. It was where Sawyer had learnt in to whisper in my ear and I was laughing. To anyone else, it would have looked way too close for comfort- or for Niall's comfort at least.

"What is it to you?"

"What is it to me?" he growled, yanking the photo away and glaring at me. "While I'm here pretending to do whatever the crap someone else wants me to do, you're going out and hanging out with other guys. What's the point of me putting in the effort to actually pretend like I care about you when you're doing everything you can to ruin it?"

"Well that's what you agreed to!"

"Not to this! You're supposed to my fucking...urgh. But then off you go, having coffee and flirting with your wanker of a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," I replied flatly. Niall ignored me and continued on rambling.

"How do you think that makes me look to everybody else?"

"I don't know."

"Like a tool!" he yelped, throwing the pictures at his feet. "Like a complete wanker!"

"Maybe because you are!" I snapped. "The public can think what they want."

"Erm, well if that was true then we both wouldn't be here!" he shot back shortly. The two of us glared at each other furiously for a few tense moments, before I gave in and unfolded my arms from my chest.

"Look, it was a mistake. It won't happen again."

"You better make sure," he said coldly, balling up the photos in his hand so they gathered into a crunched pile. He threw it in the rubbish bin, turning away from me and massaging his temples slowly. "There's still six months until no one has to give a crap about you anymore."

"Six months too long," I muttered, getting up, grabbing my stuff and storming off into the bedroom. I didn't get why he even cared so much.

As if he hadn't brought a girl back home from the club since the agreement had started, and risked the exact same thing of blowing our cover. But no, I have a breakfast coffee with Sawyer and the Armageddon has officially arrived.

Some things he said sometimes just didn't make sense to me. He was so confusing. And as if he cared about what people thought about Sawyer and I! He was probably just using it an excuse to be pissed off and to yell at me. Damn, I should have taken advantage of the situation and called him a wanker at least one more time.

 

*


That night was so ridiculously cold, even sleeping curled up in his bed under two layers of sheets in his heated bedroom was still chilly. I knew it was cold when I stepped onto the floor and I immediately couldn't feel my toes. I was wearing two pairs of socks; one on my feet and the other on my hands because I wasn't warm enough to shove them anywhere and I didn't have gloves. It was already past midnight when I finally considered how Niall might be faring.

I had locked him out of his room again, meaning that he was sleeping on the couch with probably only the thin sheets I'd thrown at him last night. Shivering from the exposure as I climbed out the bed, I crept across the room towards the door. I twisted it a fraction, then pushed it open, peering into the unclear darkness.

"Hey?" I whispered drowsily, "Niall?" I strained my ear for a second, hearing nothing but silence until I heard him grunt and roll over on the couch. I didn't want to go out in to the living room which I could clearly feel was a few degrees colder than his bedroom, because it was pitch black and he might jump me then lock me out of his bedroom instead. "Niall!" Another grunt, sounding more like a snore, then I heard him mumble something inaudible. I sighed wearily. "NIALL!"

"Whatthefuckdoyouwant," I heard him groan loudly. I bit my lip, my head poking out of the door.

"Do you want to sleep in the bedroom?" I blurted. Silence. I saw the silhouette of his body sit up, his hair all messed up.

"What?" he grumbled, scratching his head.

"Do you want to come and sleep in the bedroom?" I repeated. "Instead of out here, I mean. It's a little cold." I heard him snort, and I bit my lip again.

Slowly, he got up, nearly falling over as he grabbed his blanket and pillows. I'd already pulled the mattress out of his wardrobe and lay it on the ground for him to sleep on. As he approached the door, I stepped back quickly and warily, and I saw his dark face tired and drawn out in sleep. He met eyes with me for a second, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I just hoped he wouldn't question why I'd chosen to let him in.

He yawned widely as he came in through the door, his stuff gathered to his chest, and closed the door behind him. I turned and crawled back into his bed.

By the time I'd gotten comfortable again, he was lying face down on the mattress, his pillow shoved messily under his head and his blanket sprawled over his body. He was snoring, but not too loudly or disruptively. There was something almost rhythmic by the way the back of chest rose and fell gently with every breath. He was nothing but a blonde blur in the dark.

I sighed and rolled onto my back, wondering why I'd just let the guy who had hit me sleep in the same room as me. Thankfully he hadn't questioned why I'd had a sudden change of heart after a while of locking him out of his own bedroom. Well, it was cold. And something else, too, I knew. Something I couldn't quite place my finger on. It was like the time where we'd fought in the hotel suite, and even after the scars and cuts and bruises, I still looked into his eyes and wanted him to be something he wasn't. To be human. Or at least, to be human for me.

Maybe I wanted to be able to trust him, despite the fact that he'd hurt me and the last thing he deserved was my trust.

I was on the verge of slipping into deep sleep when I heard him make a noise. It wasn't a snore or grunt, but it sounded like he'd just been hit in the gut, like a wounded animal. I groaned quietly and rolled over to check on him. He still seemed like he was asleep. He made the noise again, his head turned to the side so I could see his face, scrunched up as though he were in pain. He mumbled something nonsensical, turning his head away warily.

"Bec..." I froze, listening closer. Had he just said that, or were my ears just not picking things up right anymore? I strained to listen again. He mumbled, shifting and flipping his entire body to face my way. His mouth was slightly ajar, eyebrows raised as though he had been caught in the headlights, bracing for impact. If only he'd be like this normally, things would be a lot easier. "Bec..."

No, I had definitely heard that right. I swallowed, letting my thoughts race. Whoever this girl was, he was having something akin to nightmares. That was the question now- who the hell was Bec?

 

 

 

 

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