Enticing Charm

Once I find myself calm enough, I leave the bathroom and find the green eyed, trouble maker, pacing the floor.

His head whips up when he sees me.

"Listen, I'm serious. I didn't think you would mind! It's juts a photo album. I didn't -"

"Stop. It's alright." I assure him, giving him the best smile I can manage. He looks like a weight has been lifted but his shoulder are still lightly hunched as he frowns down at the carpet. I haven't ever seen him like this. Sad.. I guess. And it is quite the eye opener.

"Okay.." he mumbles under his breath, making me frown. I really didn't mean to snap at him the way I did. I sigh and walk up to him, stopping right in front of him. He scowls at me and tries to take a step back but I grab his fingers lightly and he grows rigid.

"Please do not be mad at me." I sigh, leaning my head gently to the side. His scowl flickers for a second but returns in the next instant.

"I'm not." He says short. I frown and shake my head.

"The why are you glaring at me?" I argue. I step back from him and my frown becomes a glare.

"I'm not fucking mad!" He retorts through gritted teeth. I shake my head and turn from him. There was no point in fighting with him. None at all. And I just didn't want to fight with him. We both knew how well that turned out...

I make my way back to my bed and sit on the edge, crossing my lips and placing my arms firmly over my chest. I glare at the wall.

"W-what are you doing?" He stammers. I do not answer. I see him shift lightly in the corner of my eye. "Are you mad at me?" Again. Silence. He quickly crosses the room and stands uncomfortably close to me while his swimming eyes heat my face. "Do not ignore me, Olivia." He snaps. But I do just that. He groans and obnoxiously flops on the bed next to me.

Then one of his hands grab my sides as if he's trying to spin me around but his fingers dip in to my ribs and I spasm lightly, laughing as I swat his hand.

I whip my head around. Oh no. He's giving me the most sinister smile I have probably ever received.

"Why, Olivia, you wouldn't be ...ticklish, would you?" He gasps, his eyes pretending to be surprised, while his mouth stays in his scary smile.

"No!" I lie far too quickly. The smile grows and his hands go to my hips.

The torture begins.

His hands dig in to me roughly and he begins tickling ferociously. I gasp, sucking in air as he shoves me on my back and runs his hands up and down my sides.

"HARRY STOP!" I screech, tears draw to my eyes. He laughs and beams down at me as his hands find their way up my shirt and tickle me on the bare skin of my sides. "P -- PLEASE!" I cry in between my hysterics and gasps for air.

"But you love it so much!" He teases, his hands slowing down considerably.

"No!" I yell, my hands start batting at him and so he laughs even louder at my feeble attempts and crawls off of me. Leaning over in laughter as I hang half on, half off, the bed, my shirt above my belly button, my face filled with tears.

"Aw, you OK, Dove?" He coos with fake sympathy, leaning over me to wipe the tears off my cheeks.

"You're crazy." I breathe, watching him closely as I tear my shirt back down.

I cared about him; don't get me wrong. But the mood swings were incredible. How could one boy feel so much in so short of a time?

"So are you!" He chuckles, flopping on his back next to me.

"I am not!" I snort, turning my head to look at him.

"Are so." He insists, looking at me as well. I can't tell if he's joking considering his words are playful yet his eyes are dead serious.

"How am I crazy?"

"You're a clean freak. "

"I am not! I just prefer to be tidy!" I exclaim, ignoring the flushing of my face.

"Look at this room! It's spotless. You make your bed every morning, you fold each thing at least three times and you clean your bathroom after every shower!"

"H - how did you know all of that?" I yell at him. I was not a clean freak.. Right? He just shrugs and smiles down at me. I glare at him and huff.

We lay in a comftorable silence for a few minutes.

"Whats your favorite color?"

"Mmm, I don't have one." I tell him.

"How can you not have a favorite color? You're a chick!"

"And you're sexist!" I tell him smugly. He laughs and I even though I'm not looking at him I know he's rolling his eyes.

"Whats your favorite food?"

"Anything with noodles. I love noodles. They are delicious." He laughs at me. Again. "Stop laughing at me!" I demand in my most intimidating voice.

"OK, OK. Sorry. Just making a list. Insane, hates colors, avid noodle lover."

"Harry!" I yell, sitting up and looking down at him. He smiles a perfect, white, smile. "OK, smart guy, whats your favorite color?"

"Black."

"Black?"

"Hmm."

"OK, bipolar and goth." I pretend to say under my breath, not trying nor succeeding in containing my laughs.

"Watch it, sassy!" He laughs, sitting up next to me. I smile at him and look to the floor. "Whats your favorite movie?"

"The Princesses bride." I smile longingly at the thought of the love story.

"WHy the fuck would you chose that movie or something like Rambo or Back to The Future?" He asks in disbelief, giving me a look like I'm some sort of alien.

"I like love stories." I admit, playing with my fingers. He grows silent for a few moments. And I'm not sure why but he is.

"Your turn." he finally says.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Older."

"Harry."

"Olivia."

"I'm being serious! tell me?"

"You first." He decides, his tone flat. That was an easy question.

"A Prima Ballerina."

I swear he nearly dies from laughing so hard while I sit there and steam. When the laughs stop rocking his body, and his tears are wiped away he looks back at me.

"I swear I should have expected that."

"Why is that so funny?" I ask, outraged. Nothing like being told you're good enough by being laughed at for two minutes straight!

"It's just a very.... you. Response." He says, biting his bottom lip, trying to hold in his laughter. I sigh and shake my head.

"There is nothing funny about having dreams." I say sourly.

"Do you even dance?"

"Yes. For my whole life. I have been studying ballet for years." I tell him, his face shifts to one of amused surprise.

"I didn't know that."

"That's because I never told you." I point out with a shrug.

"Why do you love dance?" He asks, his eyes suddenly intense.

"Because it makes me poised." I repeat the words my mother told me eighty thousand times at least.

Flashback

"Mommy, I don't wanna! I'm tired!" I cry to my mother as she drove me to ballet class.

"Oh stop being so dramatic! You are going and that is final! And what did I say about crying? You wait until your head hits your pillow at night!" Mommy says in her angry voice.. I shut my mouth after that. I knew better than to disrespect my elders. No good came of it. I don't know why... that's what my mommy told me so that's what I knew.

"Mommy, why do I have to go to dance?"

"It makes you poised. And as well as the fact it will keep your body in mint condition!" She smiles a pretty smile out the window as we drive and drive and drive. I love my mommy and mommy always says if I love her I will do whatever I need to make her happy.

"OK, mommy." I sigh, going back to my barbie doll, peeling off her sparkly dress, replacing it with the Prima Ballerina dance outfit. My barbies was so pretty. Just as pretty as mommy. I want to be that pretty when I'm a big person. Maybe I'll be a Prima Ballerina!

"Olivia Elizabeth Forest, you make sure to fix your bun when we arrive at the studio, you have fly aways." My mommy says, looking at me in the mirror. I don't know what fly aways are...

End Flashback

"Poised?" He questions with a strange face. I crinkle my nose.

"Well, yes." I confirm. He watches me closely, his eyes squinted.

"Gee you sound so passionate." he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I am." I tell him. "You're turn."

He bites his lip ring and my tummy turns. I think I really like when he does that... I shouldn't. But I do!

"I like to draw.. and paint." He says it so hesitantly I'm not sure if he really said it. I look in to his eyes and see nothing but vulnerability in them.

Niall's P.O.V.

What the fuck does that even mean?" I spit, transferring the words in my mind.

"It means... that family is very dangerous. And you need to be very careful." He says slowly, looking at me over his clear glasses.

"Do they have her?" I whisper. Anger and rage like never before rushes through me. They had something to do with it. I swear I will rip down each wall behind wall after brick and board to get to her. No matter what mafia is standing in my way. I am not afraid of a petty gang by some old creeps.

"It's an extreme possibility they could have been involved. They have been involved with some very shady shit over the years. I found file after file of arrest reports."

"Tell me more."

Notes