You know the phrase, "Speak of the Devil and he shall appear."?
Yeah? You do?
Well, I'm convinced it was written about Niall Horan.

It's my own fault that his name is blinking on my phone at three in the morning after six months of not hearing a single word from him. I spent an entire day thinking about him and now here he is, an actual manifestation of my thoughts.

Goddammit.

What do I do? Answer it? Ignore it? I don't know what to do because this is what he does to me. He turns me into a confused mess that doesn't know her ass from her elbow and can never make up her freaking mind. I hate it. How does this man still manage to make me feel this way? The phone continues to vibrate in my hand and I still cannot decide what to do about it. I am at a complete loss. Answering his call could open up a can of worms that I may not be ready to deal with at all. God, I wish I knew what to do. I wish this was easier.

My finger hovers over the screen going back and forth until finally I decide to answer. I move to touch it when his name disappears, being replaced by a missed call notification. I hesitated for so long that I missed the fucking thing. With a huff, I fall back to my pillows and stare at the stupid tiny words. I guess I won't know what Niall wanted or why he was calling after so much time of not a word. Why do I even care though? I don't want to care. At all. Then in the back of my mind, completely nullifying what I just thought comes a hopeful thought.

Maybe he'll leave a message.

God, Harper! Just stop. Put your phone down and go back to sleep. I roll my eyes at no one but myself because even alone at three a.m. I am still a sarcastic twerp. We all know that there is no way in hell that I will be going back to sleep anytime soon.

I stare at the missed call again, my mind wandering to places it shouldn't, when I jump, startled by the phone buzzing in my hand.

Jesus Christ, he's called back.

Taking a deep breath, I answer with a tentative, "Hello?"

On the other end of the phone I can hear Niall's voice, his accent sounding slightly thicker than normal and maybe a tiny bit slurred. "Sunshine!" The sound of the pet name burns a hole straight through my chest and I feel as if I can't take a breath. He laughs, his breath rushing through into my ear as if he's right next to me and he starts to sing. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

It feels like he's punched me right in the gut.

"Sunshine, are ya there?" His voice crackles through the phone, vibrant and full of life, the word sunshine dragging from his mouth sloppily.

He's drunk. Niall fucking drunk dialed me. What a fucking cliche' we are. He continues singing the sweet children's song, making my insides curl in on themselves, while he waits for me to answer him.

I finally find my voice. "What do you want Niall?" I ask, trying to make it sound cold and uncaring in an attempt to cover the shaking that I know he can hear.

"Oh Harps, don't be like that! I miss ya! Haven't ya missed me? I know ya have." Even though he sounds genuine, I know better. Drunk Niall misses me. Sober Niall couldn't probably give a fuck.

"You're drunk, Niall." I point out tiredly, already feeling exhausted by him in this state.

He makes a noise of derision in the back of his throat, obviously disagreeing with my assessment of his drunkenness. I can almost see his annoyed face in my mind. I've threatened his heritage now. "I am not drunk, sunshine. I'm Irish. We don't get drunk."

I huff out, annoyed with this entire conversation. I do not have time for this. "It's three am. You're drunk even though you are Irish. You want to talk to me? Grow some goddamn balls and call me when you're sober."

I pull the phone away from my ear and hang up to the faint sounds of a disgruntled Irishman trying to argue with a soon to be empty line. I set it down and for the first time in my life I'm sad that I own a smartphone instead of a landline. I didn't even get the satisfaction of slamming a phone down in anger. I want to hang up on his sorry ass and have the joy of making a loud noise while I do it. All I get to do is press a goddamn button. And really I don't even get to press it. I get to touch a screen. Lame.

The small surge of anger drain's away as quickly as it appeared and I can't tell if I'd rather laugh at the absurdity of this whole thing or cry. My body settles for a weird combination of the two and I lay there, in the dark, shaking with quiet laughter and soft sobs.

Who does this man think he is?

I shake my head in the darkness. What a stupid question. I know exactly who he thinks he is, Niall fucking Horan, God's Irish gift to womankind. Asshole is the more correct term, I believe. I glance over at my clock and groan, rolling over in bed and wiping the tears from my cheek with my sheet. I can't believe the twat drunk dialed me after six fucking months. Who does that shit? Isn't drunk dialing reserved for immediately after the breakup? Isn't that the appropriate time for late night intoxicated phone calls? Why does the ass never follow the rules? There's a reason social norms exist. Dammit, can't he just be normal one time in his life?

I let out a disgusted grunt and punch my pillow in a vain attempt to make myself comfortable. I fail miserably, of course. I hate that I can't get the sound of his voice out of my head right now. I would've loved this not so long ago, but now it just hurts too much and it's really starting to piss me off. I almost wish now that I hadn't hung up on him. I'd really like to be yelling at him about this instead of stewing silently in my bed during the wee morning hours.

From beside me, my screen lights up once more and the sound of my phone vibrating fills the room. My eyes roll back into my head when I pick it up and see his name. Again. This kid must really be hard up if he's calling me back. I mean I hung up on him. What does he think is going to happen? Late night phone sex? Jesus.

I pick it up, quickly answering. "Are you fucking kidding me right now, Niall? Seriously? I mean, really, again?"

"But, harps...listen..."

I only have one word for him.

"No."

I end the call to the sounds of sputtering from the other end. I don't even have time to register any feelings about this call because my phone starts to ring again.

He's calling me back and I'm actually laughing out into the darkness about it.

Fucking hell. You gotta give him credit for persistence. But that doesn't mean I want to talk to him.

"Not today, junior." I say as I silence my phone and send him straight to voicemail. Letting out another exhausted breath, I set my phone down on the bedside table. The clock blinks red at me, reminding me I have to be up in a few hours to meet Lily and Jamie for brunch. I roll back to my pillows and close my eyes. Sleep is going to be impossible tonight, but I should try anyway. Laying there in the dark, I try to ignore the sound of Niall's voice in my ear and all the questions his sudden reappearance brings up. There will be plenty of time for questions tomorrow. The last thought that drifts through my mind before sleep takes over is the simple, hopeful thought of, 'what if'.

---

I know I should feel grateful that I set my alarm yesterday before bed, but the incessant beeping is anything but calming. I'm startled from a dream riddled sleep, but the loud obnoxious sound of it and my hand pummels at the space where I know my clock lives in hopes of shutting it up. Much to my dismay, I am unable to find it with my eyes closed and I squint one open to find the damn snooze button. I quickly press it before falling back to my pillows. I know I need to get up, but I really don't want to. I glance over at my phone, laying face down on the table and my hands twitches in a moment of weakness. I want to see if he left a message. But I'm not going to look. Not right now.

I sit up, flinging the covers from my body and shift myself to the edge of my bed. My whole body is sore this morning like I've done some impressive workout when in actuality, all I did was wrestle with my feelings and the memory of Niall all night. I tossed and turned most of the night until finally falling into a restless sleep filled with dreams of him. Good dreams too. The kind where you can feel them happening. I shiver as I stand up, the memory of one particular dream about Niall's hands coming back to me. They were really good dreams.

I make my way to the bathroom, turning on the shower to its hottest setting and stripping off the pjs from the night before. I finally look in the mirror and groan. I look like a goddamn zombie today. The bags under my eyes are big enough to move across the country with. With the pad of my finger I rub away the leftover mascara and smudged eyeliner, but it does little to help. I sigh and give it up as a lost cause. I'll just remember to bring my sunglasses today.

I hiss through my teeth when I step into the shower, the hot water hitting my skin and stinging it. My brain says it's too hot, but the rest of me disagrees. I'm secretly hoping that this shower will wash away more than just the dirt on my skin. I'm hoping for feelings and memories to swirl down the drain along with the suds from my soap. Letting the water cascade over my head and down my face, I close my eyes and pretend that I'm not as tired as I really am. The rushing water muffles the sounds of the world outside of my bathroom. I am alone, alone with my disagreeing heart and mind, fighting over a damn phone call.

My mind knows better than to let this man in again, but my heart isn't so sure. My heart only wants to remember the way he touched me, the way his eyes drank in mine, the way he sighed my name into my ear late at night. My mind might as well be standing there staring at my chest, arms crossed, tapping it's imaginary foot, with a look that screams are-you-fucking-serious-right-now. The only thing my body seems to be in agreement on is that it's time to get out of the shower and it's time to eat. This conclusion is punctuated by my pruney fingers and my growling stomach.

After a quick towel dry off my hair, I throw it into a messy bun and put on whatever I pull out of my closet first. It's not the cutest thing in the world, but the old ratty sweat shirt and skinny jeans will do. I look in the mirror once more debating on whether or not concealer is worth the effort, but I fear the only thing that will help with the bags under my eyes look less puffy is plastic surgery so I skip the makeup. I grab my sunglasses from my dresser and throw them on, chucking my wallet into my purse and picking up my phone from the table. With my breath held, I turn it over in my palm.

He left a message and I'm not sure if I'm happy or mad about that.

I stand there for a moment, wondering if I should listen to it now or later, but I decide that it's probably not a good idea right before I see Lily to listen to something from Niall so my phone joins the rest of my junk in my bottomless purse.

Brunch is at our normal spot at a cafe just down the road from me so it only takes a few minutes to walk there from my place, but when I arrive it looks as if I'm already late. Jamie and Lily are already seated with a fresh pot of tea sitting in the middle of the table and my cup ready and waiting to be filled. I walk over to the table and am greeted with hugs and smiles from the two of them. As I sit down, they continue their previous conversation.

"Yeah, Ben wants you to come over and watch some weird documentary with him. I told him I'd tell you 'bout it when I saw you today." Lily holds up a hand just as Jamie starts to ask a question. "Before you start in, no, I don't know the name of it and no, I don't know what it's a about. I just told him I'd tell you. That's it. That's a far as my knowledge goes."

Jamie's chuckles from beside her. "I'll just text him later then."

"Good, you do that." Lily takes a sip of her tea and happens to glance at me just as I finish making my cup.

I'm pouring sugar and milk in when she makes a noise that causes Jamie to glance up at me also.

Then both of them in unison bark out, "You look like shit!"

My shoulders drop as I stir my tea and nod. "Thanks guys. Lovely to see you too. You look wonderful as well."

Lily sets her cup down and scans my face. "Seriously Harper. Absolute shite."

Jamie takes the sweeter line of questioning. "Did you not sleep well?"

Lily scoffs, "Does she look like she slept well? The bags under her eyes could be used as floatation devices."

"Well, fuck you too." Offended, I laugh out and put my sunglasses back on, covering my puffy tired eyes. I cross my arms over my chest, increasing my resemblance of a small grumpy child to maximum level.

Lily laughs and rolls her eyes. "Honey. Take your sunnies off. We are inside and you, my dear, are not a celebrity."

I continue to sit there, not moving, refusing to do anything so she reaches across the table and takes them off for me, folding them neatly and setting them down in front of me. She gazes at me with a slight look of concern. "What's got your knickers in a twist today?"

I scoff, "You two assholes for one thing."

Jamie pips up from across the table, "Hey! I didn't do anything!"

I roll my eyes. "Says half of the pair that said I looked like shit."

Lily just picks up her tea, taking a sip, studying me for a bit before glancing at Jamie. "If I didn't know better I'd say this was all Niall's fault. But there's no way it could be him."

I sit there in stony silence, grinding my jaw together. Leave it to Lily to accidentally hit the nail right on the head. Jamie's eyes grow wider the longer I sit closed mouthed until finally Lily realizes she might actually be right.

"Get the fuck out. It is Niall!"

Jamie starts to mutter under his breath, angrily. "I'm gonna get kick his ass if I ever see him. Just knock his ass out. Fuckin' twat that he is.

I chuckle a little at Jamie's big brother response. That's kinda what he's become for me and I secretly love it. Also, his accent gets adorably thick when he's fired up so that's always fun.
Lily pats his leg under the table. "It'll be fine. We don't even know that he did yet."

I look back and forth between them, my annoyance at Niall growing every second until finally I just spit it out. "The little asshole called me last night."

Lily's whole body registers the shock and her head flies back, her mouth dropping open and eyebrows knitting together. "He did what now?"

I sigh, "Called me. Drunk dialled me actually. At three in the morning."

Jamie's mouth opens and then closes again as if he's thinking better of what he was going to say, but Lily has no such filter. "He fucking called you? Drunk? After six fucking months of nothing? Who the fuck is this kid?" Jamie lays a hand on Lily's shoulder, calming her down. She takes a deep breath and levels her voice so that the entire cafe can't hear her next question. "You're fucking with me, right? This is all a joke, right?"

I deadpan at her. "Does my face look like I'm kidding? I didn't wake up at three a.m. for fucking fun." I'm about to continue when Jamie distracts me by pulling out his phone and starting to type furiously. "What are you doing?" I ask, curiously.

"I'm googling the twats mother so I can ask her to come pick up her son. He needs a lesson or two from her on how not to treat women."

I reach across the table, pressing my hand to his phone and ceasing his movements. A smile lights my face, the first one all day. "Thank you, Jamie. I think it'll be okay."

Lily is enthralled now that her anger has subsided. "What did you say? Did you tell him to fuck off? Did you yell at him?"

I take a sip of tea that is now only lukewarm. "No. I said nothing. I hung up on him." I pause, pouring some fresh tea into my cup. "Well, that's not true. I actually told him to grow some balls and call me sober if he wanted to talk. Then I hung up on him."

Lily sits back in her seat. "Good. Good for you. I wouldn't even answer if he calls again. He was bad news, Harps. Not good for you at all."

I had been wondering whether or not I should bring up the voicemail, but hearing Lily's words makes me think that that might not be the best idea. She'll likely tell me to delete it and be done with him. But part of me wants to know what he said and part of me doesn't want to admit how big that previous part might be. I push the message out of my mind and come back to Lily who is still talking shit about Niall. I agree with her to appease her. "He wasn't the best guy."
"Best guy?" She scoffs. "A fucking idiot is what he was. But no matter you're free of him and better off because of it."

I sit back in my seat, wondering exactly how free I really am when all I can think about it what his stupid message might say. That's not free. But Lily is set on having out her rant. I can see it in her face. She does not like Niall and she's about to let us all know, in detail.

She sets her tea down on the table and leans in towards me. "Seriously the kid is such an asshole. Who does he think he is? Just because he's some over rated boy band pop star he thinks he can treat people that way. That's bullshit." She looks to Jamie for confirmation and he gives her only a slight nod. Jamie is always concerned about everyone else's feelings so he's watching me from the corner of his eye as she continues. "Wait until his fans pass the age of 16 and don't give a shit anymore. Then he'll just be some washed up pinup boy who can't get anyone who's written a hit in the last decade to come near him. When he's not playing stadiums anymore, maybe he won't be so hot on treating people like they don't matter...dick."

Everything she is saying is true. Well, most of it. I don't think there will ever be a time when Niall is a washed up has been but I am not in the mental state to argue that point with her today. Plus, she'd probably only take that as a sign of my still having feelings for him and then I'd have a whole other lecture on my hands. I don't want to go down that road. Jamie, who must have sensed my apprehension, easily changes the subject.

He casually cuts off the beginnings of her next rant. "So. Remember that girl I was telling you guys about?"

I latch onto this subject change like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. "Oh? You mean, Sarah? Wasn't that her name?"

He smiles softly at the sound of her name and it warms my heart, but also I feel a tinge of sadness behind that warmth. I'm not sad because Jamie has moved on. Jamie and I weren't ever meant to be and that's okay, but I don't think I'd like to delve further into this feeling right now so I focus my attention back to him with a smile matching his own.

"Yeah, Sarah..." He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts with a deep breath. "A few weeks ago I asked her out."

Both Lily and I look at him, surprised, and I exclaim, "You did? That's great!"

Jamie turns a new shade of pink that I've never seen on him and it's adorable. "I did. We've actually been out quite a few times since then."

Lily smacks him in the arm. "And why are we just hearing about this? What are you? Ashamed of us? How rude."

He chuckles slightly, rubbing at the spot on his arm. "Like I could be ashamed of you two gorgeous girls. It's more that I didn't want her to be overwhelmed by your..." He stops in mid-sentence, thinking of the perfect words to use but I finish for him.

"Our rather large personalities?"

Lily snorts from beside him. "That's a nice way of putting that he doesn't want us to scare her off."

Jamie turns to Lily, a playful scowl on his face. "You could scare her off with a look, don't lie. I have to warn her first."

I snicker at the appalled face Lily makes and take a sip of my tea to hide my amusement from the raised eyebrow she gives me. He's not wrong, Lily doesn't always know how to hide her
face.

Jamie's face swivels to mine. "Oh don't think you're innocent of everything. The two of you
together..." He pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah. No. I'm not going to subject her to that without a little warning."

"So I guess that means no Sunday roast at Harper's tomorrow then?" Lily asks with mischief in her voice. One look from Jamie and she bursts out laughing.

"Nope. Not until she's had sufficient prep time for taking on the two of you."

I lean forward and rest my hand on Jamie's forearm. "I'm sure she's lovely and I can't wait to meet her. Ya know, once you've given her the cheat codes to unlock Lily's and my weaknesses."

Laughingly, Lily wonders aloud, "what are mine? Vodka and the occasional ciggie?" She gestures across the table to me. "Yours are easy. A bottle of wine and an Irishman and you're set."

My mouth drops open, half offended half amused. "Hey. No one asked for suggestions from the peanut gallery. Leave me and my propensity for Irishman and sweet wine alone. Or, if you'd rather, I can drag all your dirty laundry out of the closet."

She holds up her hands in surrender and turns back to Jamie. "So tells us about her. I know you want to. Gush away, my dear."

Jamie begins to tell us all about how he met Sarah at a hole in the wall record shop and how every time he went back, she seemed to be there. Finally, he introduced himself by making a joke about it. Turns out she owned that little record shop. As I watch him recall the memory my mind starts to drift back to Niall and what Lily said about my weakness for Irishman. It seems that I might never be able to get rid of this man from my thoughts. The phone in my bag is practically screaming at me to listen to the message. But if I'm being honest, I'm kind of scared of what it might say. What if it's not something I want to hear? What if he's just an asshole and nothing's changed? And why the hell have I suddenly decided to give in again? Who even knows where my head is when it comes to Niall at this point. I've spent too long lost in my thoughts because I've caught Lily's attention.

"Oi!" She snaps her fingers near my face. "Stop thinking about that twat. He doesn't deserve that much brain power being wasted on him." I sigh and her expression softens. "Do we need to take you out tonight so that you don't sit in your apartment and wallow. I won't allow wallowing."
She looks to Jamie for conformation and he nods. "That sounds like a perfect plan. Drinks? A club? What do you want to do, Harps?"

I shake my head, declining their offer of saving me from myself. "I'll be fine guys. I promise I won't wallow."

Lily looks at me seriously as if she's trying to pull my future intentions directly from my brain. She scrunches up her mouth, chewing on the inside of her cheek in concentration. "I don't believe you, but I won't push it. If you feel like you want to get out of the house we are only a phone call away. Right, Jamie?"

He nods once and winks at me with a grin on his face. "Right."

My chest is flooded with emotion when I look over at my two best friends. I never would have thought that Jamie and Lily would become the rocks I needed when my life got all twisted and confusing, but I'm beyond glad that they are always there. "Really guys. I'll be fine." Lily opens her mouth to argue with me but I push forward. "I promise that I will call you if I need distraction."
Lily seems appeased and brunch continues on in its normal fashion. We eat the traditional full English breakfast, stuffing ourselves with sausages, eggs, beans and fried bread. I end up giving my mushrooms to Jamie, who finds them delicious though I can't even manage to find them palatable. We joke and laugh as we always do. Thoughts of Niall and what he potentially has said to me in that damn voicemail stay on the outer edges of my mind and even as I say goodbye to both Lily and Jamie, I can feel my phone burning a hole in my bag.

I walk home, my bag bouncing against my leg, the weight of my phone hitting me and reminding each time what is waiting for me. It's like each time I take a step it's saying something.

"Hey!"
"It's me!"
"Remember me?"
"The reason you couldn't sleep last night?"
"Hello?"
"Ya gonna listen to me or not?"

I unlock my door, tossing my keys into the bowl they normally live in and setting my bag on the table next to it. I pull my phone out and set it down without even checking it, answering the last imaginary question it threw at me. "Not right now."

I walk away from the table, away from the message, away from the memory of Niall last night and the thought of his soft slurred voice. This is like the guitar pick all over again. I'm going to spend all day thinking about this.

Fucking hell.

I glance back over my shoulder, making sure my phone is where I left it and then I have to laugh at myself. This isn't paranormal activity. My phone isn't going to follow me around the house like it holds some message from Satan. Though, I suppose one could argue a few points towards Niall's being like the devil. Running around, fucking with people's lives, mainly mine. I shake my head and plop down onto the couch, flicking on the telly in hopes of being properly distracted by something on there. Fuck, I don't even care if it's that crackpot show about all those crazies in Essex. Just give me something to take my mind off life and that damn voicemail.

I only make it through an hour and a half of Friends reruns before I give up and go grab the dumb phone because it's really all I've been thinking of despite a few classic Ross and Rachel moments. I open it as I walk back to the couch and take a seat. Staring at the tiny notification, I wonder if I really want to know what it says. Maybe I should just delete it. Maybe it would be better if I never knew what he wanted to say. Maybe I wouldn't have to think about him so damn much. I sigh and toss the phone beside me, my body riddled with indecision.

I know thing for sure though, I need a cup of tea.

I walk to the kitchen and turn the kettle on to boil, trying desperately not to keep thinking about Niall's voice and putting words into his mouth that I'm longing to hear him say. I mentally correct myself as I pull out a mug and ready my tea. The words I longed for him to say. Do I really want him back? After the way he treated me?

The kettle starts to whistle, interrupting my thoughts, which is probably a good thing. I fill my cup and walk back to the sofa, carrying it gently, my tea still steeping. I'm hoping it'll help me think or at least decide what to do. I pick up the phone with my opposite hand, making sure to keep the steaming mug steady in my other. I pull up my voicemail, still trying to decide if I want to delete it or not. Looking at his name, my wanders back to the last good night we had and my chest starts to ache when I think of him laying in my bed. That night and that morning were so perfect and then he had to go and fuck it all up. What an asshole.

And as quick as that I decide to delete it. I don't want to know whatever it is that he has to say to me. He was and likely still is a major fuck up who only is looking for a piece of ass.

I swipe my finger over the message, bringing up the red delete button. Its glaring, staring me in the face and making me rethink what had been a concrete decision milliseconds ago. Mulling it over for a moment, I bring my steaming mug up to take a small sip. I wasn't prepared for the assault of scalding hot liquid on my lips and tongue and I sputter, trying not to drop my mug in my haste to spit out the offending substance. My harsh movements cause a small amount to slip over the lip of my mug and fall heavy onto my leg, spilling onto my pants and stinging my skin as it soaks through the fabric. A small inkling in the back of my brain has me pushing my phone away from me before any more tea manages to escape my mug. The small movement causing a few more drops to overtake the edge and land neatly on my pants. I hiss through my teeth, jumping up from the sofa. I barely keep a hold of my mug as I attempt to keep any more from spilling on me and instead end up sloshing the hot water down my front, soaking clean through my shirt to my skin, causing me to scream.

"Fuck all, that's hot!"

I use my free hand to pull the fabric from my skin and I set my mug down, grabbing for the throw blanket from the back of my couch and dab at my sodden shirt. The most I manage to do is soak up a small bit of the liquid, but the large stain down my front is a different story. It'll probably be there for eternity. Amidst all the commotion it takes me a long while to realize I've dropped my phone somewhere. I crouch down, feeing around on the floor and find it laying underneath the coffee table. I'm thankful it's dry as I pick it up, flipping it over in my palm. Looking down at my screen, my heart stops.

The message.
Niall's message.
It's gone.

What the fuck have I done? Oh my god. Now that it's gone, I want to desperately know what it said.

"Fucking hell!" I'm starting to panic. "There has to be a way to get that back. There has to be!"
My mind is drawing a complete blank on what to do. It's like I've lost my ability to function. What can I do? Oh! I'll call Jamie! He can help me! I quickly punch in his number and wait.

One ring. Two rings. God, answer the phone! Three rings.

"Hello?"

Finally.

"Jamie! Oh my god! You have to help me. Like right now!" My voice sounds frantic even to me.

Jamie responds in a tone close to my own. "Harper! What's wrong?"

"How the hell do I retrieve a deleted voicemail?"

I hear him sigh through the phone. "Jesus, that's all you need? I thought something bad had happened! You sounded like someone had broken in or something."

"Oh God, no. Nothing like that." I realize I sound ridiculous, but I'm anxious for him to tell me what to do and let me go so I can fix this.

"Harper, just scroll to the fucking bottom of your messages. You'll see what I'm talking about. Is that really all you needed?" He sounds only slightly annoyed by me. I'll make sure I call him later and apologize to him.

"Yes, thank you, Jamie! You are the best. Talk later?" I'm hurrying and he can tell.

He chuckles after me. "Sure, love. Call me later. After you've fetched whatever message is so important."

I hang up after a quick goodbye and go right back to where I was before this whole mess happened. I scroll down and see exactly what Jamie was talking about and I feel a little dumb. There it is. Plain as day. Deleted messages. Inside sits Niall's voicemail. I retrieve it and take a deep breath as I press play and put the phone to my ear.

At first, all I hear is the sounds of a tv playing some sort of sports game, the announcers going on about some missed call quickly followed by a huff, then heavy breathing that I would be able to identify as Niall even if I didn’t already know.

“Harps...Harper...”

His voice trails off and the slurred sounds of his words do nothing to lessen the clenching in my chest. As much as I hate to admit it, I've missed that voice.

"I just...I wish..."

He takes another deep breath as if he's having trouble organizing his thoughts.

"I wish I knew what to fuckin' say to ya."

Another brief pause.

"Somethin' other than that I'm a fuckin' idiot."

My chest feels like it's collapsing the longer his message goes on. His voice sounds genuine as he continues rambling, trying to find the right words to say.

"I know I made a mistake."

He grumbles to himself as if that's not right either.

"It's just...I don't know."

The rush of his deep breath feels like it's coming through the phone. I can almost feel it on the skin of my neck, slightly moving my hair and sending goosebumps down my body, making me shiver.

"I know ya don't want to talk to me. I don't blame ya for that. I just wanted to tell ya that I miss ya. I miss ya like crazy. Ya might not care, but I had to say it. Had to tell ya how I felt."

The message ends and an absolute longing washes over me. My heart wants to believe him, without a single doubt. It wants nothing more than to forgive him and run straight to him. My brain isn't quite so sold on the idea.

I'm lost. What the hell do I do now?

Notes