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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12. whore-an

 

 

 

"This isn't working."

That was the first thing that Harry practically snapped at Simon as he stormed into his office, the rest of us trailing wearily behind him.

Tour had been cut short a few unnecessary days after they found me lying on the ground of their trashed hotel suite, with a welt on my cheek from where he had hit me, and cuts along my back from where I'd collided into the glass cabinet. It was under-statement to say that Harry was furious when Niall returned a few hours later after Liam convinced him to come back to the hotel, with a head wound and bruises along his arms from where I'd continuously punched him.

In fact, Harry spent the whole night pacing up and down infront of the bedroom doors to make sure no one came out. Then the next day, he'd shoved us all onto the bus and demanded that we went home, threatening to drive the bus himself if they wouldn't take us.

The swelling in my cheek had disappeared in the two days of rest and ice, but it was still uncomfortable to sleep on my back without it stinging. Niall on the other hand, had a patched bandage on the side of his head and a swollen lip which was starting to go away. Our injuries might have been starting to heal, but our deep-seated and bitter detest for each other hadn't.

Simon looked up as we entered, Harry first leaning over the desk and glaring at him accusingly. I sat in one seat next to Harry, and Niall in the other on the opposite end of the table, much like the first time we were here. This time though, Zayn, Liam and Louis had accompanied us. Zayn and I had actually become quite close now. Louis was pretty much easy to figure out. Liam was the one who sort of stumped me. One moment he was Mr. Get-in-Line, the next he was Mr. Let's-drink-up. It occurred to me it was probably Louis' bad influence.

"Did you see what they did to each other?" demanded Harry angrily, tossing his curls out of his eyes and holding them with his hand distractedly. "There was screaming, and fighting and..."

"Yes I did."

"...hotel room was trashed and damages were so extensive," Harry continued, tapping his foot. I could tell he was about to start pacing again. "Addie had a welted cheek and Niall had a head wound- how the hell did it happen?"

"Why don't you ask them?" replied Simon, with a frown, turning to me, then looking at Niall. "What happened?" I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly and stared out the window. I was not talking to him. I was not going to even look at Niall. Ever since the fight, I'd closed myself off from both Harry and Niall. Harry, because all he did was lose his head and pace anxiously, and Niall because he had admittedly tried to kill me.

"For fuck's sake," I heard Harry curse under his breath, turning away from the table, before pacing back to it. "This can't go on. They literally were killing each other because they were left in the same room for what- a good half an hour? How can you expect them to continue putting on this act if they can't stand each other?"

"It has to be," Simon cut across him, "Addison, Niall, you will have to learn to get along with each other. Whether you like it or not, you'll have to at least learn to pretend to be amicable in public. I saw your interviews together, and the two of you couldn't be more awkward or uncomfortable."

"No. No! You're not hearing me," said Harry impatiently, but I stopped him.

"Simon, I can't do it," I said, staring straight at him. "I'm not going to spend another six months putting up with the crap that he's put me through. I'd rather be labelled a whore and never have a respectable job again, than have to go through what I just did." The look that Simon served me was plain and simple- too bad.

"What happened in the hotel?" he asked me again. I stared at him then leaned back, mute once more, and refused to answer his question.

"We thought we'd have to call the police," interjected Liam in a calm tone. "Simon, you have to see that it's dangerous for those two to be together."

"We wouldn't come to you if the situation was any better," Zayn added, "It's only now because it's getting so bad, that they're physically hurting each other."

"Niall hit my cousin," seethed Harry, shooting Niall a look. "He hit a girl. I'm pretty sure that's against the law."

"Aw, fuck off Harry!" snarled Niall, sitting up.

"What did you say to me?" snapped Harry, turning to him as Niall stood up. The two of stared at each other, sizing one another up for a few moments of silence.

"Sit down, both of you," said Simon coldly. Harry grabbed a chair, and the two of them stiffly obeyed, yet still glaring insistently at one another. "I've made up my mind." The six of us all turned at stared at him expectantly. "Niall, you have your apartment in the complex, correct?"

"Yes," said Niall through gritted teeth.

"Addison," said Simon swiftly, clicking his fingers and pointing at me. "You're moving in with him."

"WHAT?" That was everyone's immediate reaction, cries of shock rising up around the room.

"They'll kill each other!" Zayn cried.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" howled Harry, jumping to his feet, sounding and looking so bewildered and horrified that I thought he was going to pull all his hair out. I got to my feet as well, because the very thought of moving in with Niall made me sick in the stomach.

"There is no way in hell that I'm moving in with him!" I snarled.

"She's not coming into my apartment!" Niall yelled, his face slowly turning red.

"Enough!" roared Simon and we all fell silent immediately. "I don't have time to hear all of this. The decision is final, Addison is moving in with Niall. I am determined that you two will learn to get along with each other, and I'm not hearing another word of it."

"But-"

"Enough, Harry," Simon said sharply, looking back down at his portfolio. I stared at him disbelievingly. Genuinely, this man must be insane. Had he just heard what the boys had told him? How Niall and I were self-destructive, and maimed each other so severely, we had to cancel the end of the tour? And now, he had the balls to suggest that we move in together? I couldn't believe it. I was so furious, I was just about to launch myself across the table and try to claw his eyes out, when Zayn moved in with his arms around my waist, and snatched me from the room.

Harry was thundering around, looking like he could kill anything he set his mind to. Liam and Louis both looked quite distressed as well. Niall's expression was mixture of fury and hate. Zayn on the other hand, who'd just stopped me from throwing myself at Simon Cowell and trying to beat him up, looked extremely concerned. I wasn't sure how I felt. I was still far too shocked.

It was like suddenly all the freedom had been sucked out of my life. Now, Harry was my official 'guardian', and somehow Simon Cowell got to arrange my living plans. And that meant, I had no choice but to move in with Niall Horan.

*
 


"Mine..." I heard him hiss, "Mine...fuck, mine..."

I was sitting on his bed, slowly unpacking my bag. Just a few weeks ago, I'd been doing the same thing at Harry's apartment. It was late at night already, and I could hear him muttering dark things to himself, full of angst as he moved around the apartment armed with a permanent marker. He'd spent the entire night labelling every single thing that was his with his name, scrawling it in messy black pen.

Niall's apartment was smaller than Harry's. Niall only had a kitchen, a dining and living area, a study room, plus his bedroom with an ensuite. That was the first problem. He only had one bedroom, and he obviously wasn't going to bother to do up the study room to make it liveable. Seriously, that room was worse than his bedroom. And apparently, Niall still had Liam come in once a week to clean up his room.

I couldn't believe it had come to this. Sleeping in the same area as Niall Horan. He had a king-sized single, and I was trying to avoid confrontation so I hadn't asked about the sleeping arrangement yet.

"Mine..." I heard him practically spit, before he got up from his spot on the living room floor and marched in to the bedroom. I felt myself stiffen as he headed towards his overflowing dresser, and started to scrawl his name on everything. "Mine, mine, mine..."

"I'm not going to take your things," I piped up, but he chose to ignore me as he tossed some empty can over his shoulder and I ducked to avoid it.

"Mine, mine..." I groaned to myself. Whatever. Suddenly, he leaned down and snatched up my shoes. My white converse.

"Hey!" I said snappishly, and he glared at me. True, I didn't have a lot of room for complaints seeing as I was currently unpacking my stuff on his bed. But he wasn't going to get free shoes out of them. "Those are mine." He frowned.

"No, they're mine," he retorted, checking them. "They're definitely mine."

"No," I protested, getting up and coming closer to him. He looked at me warily. "I took my shoes off in here. They're mine."

"I always have my shoes in here," he shot back, holding on the shoes tighter. I swallowed thickly and begged myself to think straight, and not to get unnecessarily angry.

"What size do you wear?"

"Seven. These are size seven."

"Bloody hell, I wear seven too," I snapped, "Give ‘em back, they're mine Niall."

"They're mine!" he snapped back. "I think I'd remember where I put my shoes." So much for no confrontation.

"Niall, they're mine," I scowled, "I put them there. I think I'd remember too."

"Well probably not, seeing as half the time you can't remember who you slept with," he sneered, and I shoved him. He stumbled back, caught off guard.

"Gimme my shoes back, and don't push it," I warned. "Not unless you want another head wound."

"Not unless you want another swollen cheek or a stripy back," he shot back with a smirk. Without another moment of hesitation, he scrawled his name onto the sole of one shoes.

"What the fuck are you- oh my god!" I yelped, as he grinned victoriously. "You owe me a new pair of shoes!"

"Ha! Keep dreaming," he sniggered.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"I dunno, I don't care. Heels, whatever you girls wear," he said dismissively.

"Give them back!" I ordered staunchly. Somehow, I knew he wasn't to explode or go crazy tonight. Not him anyway. He was happy just taunting me. He held them just out of reach. I turned around, grabbed the can lying on the ground and hurled it at him. In complete surprise, he dropped the shoes and I darted in, grabbing them.

"Oi! Bitch!" he said angrily, his fingers snagging on the back of my shirt and yanking me towards him. I let out a startled noise like an injured animal as I felt my back slam into his front. For a second, we were both momentarily winded, and unable to breathe, with me pressed against him. As soon as I'd caught my breath, I realised how close we were. How I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he dipped his head slightly. He was out of breath too.

I wrenched myself out of his grasp, staggering back as I turned to face him. For the first time, I saw his face when he didn't have all his walls up. Truly just Niall. Bemusement flickered around in those blue eyes, his mouth hung open slightly. I swallowed, and stared down at the shoes still in my hand. It thankfully pulled me out of my reverie and snapped me back to reality.

"New shoes," I said loudly, and he blinked at me. I flipped them over and saw his name scrawled on the soles. "For fuck's sake, I can't wear these."

"That's because they're mine," he said snappishly, obviously having come to life again. "Give them to me." He held out his hand and snapped his fingers impatiently.

"No," I breathed, still staring at him.

"What?" he barked, though he still seemed a little distracted. I bit my lip hesitantly, before I suddenly grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of the room. His stared at me with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "Let go, what the fuck are you...?"

I pushed him away, into the living room. I disappeared into his bedroom, then flung a couple of pillows at him and a blanket. He barely had time to catch them uncoordinatedly, before I closed the bedroom door with a sharp snap and locked it. He didn't come hammering on the door, which I took as a good sign. I gulped, pressing my back to the back of the door. What just happened? Nothing, I thought quickly, forcing myself to steel away from such stupid thoughts. Nothing had happened.

Bang.

"OI! Lemme in!" he yelled, banging on the door. I almost smiled, because it assured me that still nothing had happened. Yet.

 

 

 

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