I have a normal 24-year-old life. If I were a waitress, I’d probably have the exact same lifestyle. I’d go to the same clubs I go to already, live in the same house with the same housemates, hang out with the same people.
I struggled with what I wanted to, or actually, what I should say to Niall for what felt like forever. It was more like…four hours and twenty three minutes. Which may seem a bit excessive to some, but being in the current situation I was in, with the person I was in it with, I knew I had no choice but to get this exactly right on the first go. I had no clue as to what I was going to do about…anything quite yet, but the first thing that needed to be done was to tell Niall.
Sitting on my couch and continuously staring at the little piece of paper as I contemplated word for word what I was going to say to him, almost made my head hurt. But I finally swallowed back my fears and picked up my cell phone, getting up from my couch to nervously pace back and forth across the carpeted floor. My teeth nipped increasingly hard at my bottom lip, scraping off the bits of skin that I had already been picking at for the past four hours and I could feel my hands jittering uncontrollably as I held the phone in my hand. Nervous was beyond an understatement at that point; I was absolutely scared shitless.