× Horan

Sport was a free weekly sports magazine created in London with a wide range of covers and events such as football, rugby, tennis, and cricket. Every issue gives an exclusive interview with various sports personalities. Sport covers were primarily aimed at males, but today they were making an exception.

The team and I were in jeans and our jerseys sitting in a group and facing an expensive camera. High-tech lighting and white back drops surrounded us, making everything artificial and scintillating. People milled around behind the camera, making sure everything was in order; adjusting the lights, fixing the reflectors, making sure the settings on the camera were to the photographer's liking.

Naturally, Lynn and I sat in the front next to each other. Despite everything going on around her, she seemed to put all her concentration on the floor between her feet.

The group pictures didn't take very long, but that didn't mean I was spared being blinded by all the flashes.

The photographer told us that we could take a break and I didn't hesitate to go around the corner and check out the food table.

"So, have you told Lynn that you love her yet?" Jace blurted, walking up beside me.

I nearly dropped the doughnut in my hand from how blunt he was. "Hey," I warned, looking around quickly to see if anyone was around to hear us. "Keep it down."

"No one's here," he assured me. "So did you?"

He had gotten over the flu, but he still looked sickly. His hair wasn't styled like it usually was and his skin looked pale and slightly clammy. The photographer had noticed his appearance and made sure to stick him in the back of the group photo. I had to admit that I was jealous of that. I was tired of being the center of attention all the time.

"First of all, I don't love her. There is a huge difference between being in love with someone and loving someone." I explained. "And second, no I did not."

"Yeah, you'd think love and hate were two different things, too, and yet you and Lynn seem to make the line thinner and thinner. Why haven't you told her? I thought you were going to on New Year's Eve?"

I took an angry bite out of my doughnut. "I was, but then... things happened."

"What kind of things?"

"Harry."

It didn't matter what I said after that. Whatever Harry might have done to steer me off my path was irrelevant to Jace. The point was: he was there. He was there and ruined everything, like he always seemed to do. Granted, I wasn't exactly someone who was proud of what I did because of him. So I guess I didn't have anywhere to talk.

"So what's stopping you now?" Jace pressed.

"Fear," I stated simply. "And the forbidden. I can't just fucking tell Lynn that I'm in love with her; there are so many possibilities that could go wrong because of that. Do you know what I did last night? I went on my laptop and actually Googled 'how to unlove someone'. How pathetic is that?"

"What did you find?"

I thought about all the articles I read, all the hopeless antidotes and useless formulas that literally didn't mean shit.

"Over 275,000 results," I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I only found that whatever people are writing about obviously doesn't work and I'm just not smart enough to figure it out on my own."

There were articles on How to Let Go, The 9 Steps to Stop Loving Someone, and 12 Ways to Fall Out Of Love. All bloody useless. I even went as far as writing a list of everything bad about Lynn, but I didn't think her "stupid, peppermint smelling hair" was a good con and ended up giving up. I even looked up chemical elements to unlove someone so I could understand it a little better. Still nothing. I'd never felt more dumb in my life.

"Maybe you're going about it all wrong," Jace offered. "Maybe you just-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," I cut him off.

Another part, a part that Jace didn't know, was that I was hesitant on telling her now more than ever because of what happened. It might be the thing to set me free, but it might also be the thing to cut the little hope I had left to save this. It would come off as manipulation to her, and that was the whole reason I was in this miss. I wasn't sure I was willing to take that risk.

"Tell me what's going on with Hazel? How's the chemotherapy going?" I asked.

Jace just looked at me. "How do you think the chemo is going?"

Right, that was probably the wrong way to ask that. Of course it was going badly. I couldn't imagine getting hooked up to a machine that loses my hair and makes me throw up was enjoyable.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm just... sorry."

"There are no complications, if that's what you're asking," he stated. "But it's making her sick, as you can imagine. Most days now she won't leave her bed because she feels like shit."

"And the day's that she does...?"

"Usually right after she goes in for treatment, before it hits her system fully. I try to make the most of those three or so days."

I nodded and hung my head, unsure what to say next, if anything.

Luckily the awkward conversation came to an end when the assistant joined us at the food table.

"The other boys are in room A22 for the interview," she said. But when we started walking in that direction, she stopped me. "Except for you, Niall. Razz is ready for you."

Razz was the photographer. His real name was John according to one of the stylists, but being in the artistic industry, he would be caught dead with a name as common as "John". He was a bald man with a full beard and a scarf around his thick neck. He was as white as a ghost and the biggest diva I had ever met. He was your typical stereotypical photographer, and in my option, he was giving the profession a bad name.

Instead of following Jace and the assistant back to one of the many rooms in the building, I turned the corner and walked back to the set. The first thing I saw was Coach, looking rather torn as he stood in the middle of a heated argument involving Razz and Lynn.

"-not doing that," Lynn was saying as she gave Razz her best annoyed glare. "It's degrading and totally irrelevant to the magazine. If your readers want to see naked women, then they can buy Sports Illustrated."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Razz wants me to be shirtless on the cover," Lynn explained. "And I refuse to do it."

"I don't understand what the big deal is," Razz said, looking just as annoyed as Lynn. "They're not going to be on full display or anything. I thought you woman were all about freeing the boobs, and now suddenly that's off the table when it concerns you?"

"Not when they are sexualized," Lynn deadpanned. "Breasts are not sex organs."

"Lynn, just go with it," Coach said, almost bagging.

"No, I'm not doing something I don't want to do."

Razz pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously getting inpatient. "You're making this a bigger deal than it has to be."

This Razz lad was already on my last nerves, so seeing him so frustrated with Lynn standing up to what she believed in was really pissing me off. Before Lynn, I might have agreed with everything he said. Feminism wasn't something I was much educated in so I knew very little about it. I loved boobs, so having Lynn topless on the cover no doubt would have been a hell yeah for me. But spending the last few months with Lynn, I had learned enough to know that this colorful photographer was completely in the wrong.

This time, I spoke up. "What I don't understand is why you think you have a right to voice an opinion you clearly know nothing about," I said. "It's Lynn's body, she is the only person who can tell you what you can or cannot do with it."

Razz's face was beat red and I thought he might explode. He looked at me, then to Lynn, and then Coach. The lad clearly always got his way and didn't like it one bit when it didn't.

"Alright," he finally said. "I'll go talk to the publisher and see if there's a compromise."

When he walked away, the three of us were left in silence. I could tell Coach wanted to say something, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Then he must have decided to abandon the thought all together because he turned around and started walking away.

"I'm going to go see how the rest of the team is doing, but you better not have blown this for us," he said before he disappeared behind a wall.

Then Lynn and I were left alone. Or as alone as we could get with a bunch of people milling around getting things ready for the shoot.

"Thank you," she said softly, looking at me.

"I shouldn't have had to get involved," I said. "He should have taken your request without argument. I get that it's to keep the readers happy, but they've gone this long without sexualizing the magazine, they don't need to start now."

"I'm just tired," she admitted. "With the rumors and articles about us. I just want to focus on soccer, why can't everyone else?"

"You put a girl on an all men's football team; they're going to be looking for drama."

A small smile formed on the corners of Lynn's lips. "They'd have a field day if they really knew what is going on between us."

I laughed at the comment, but I didn't pass over what she said. She had said is, as in its still going on. Could that have just been a slip of the tongue, or was that a little more hope that I could fix this?

But I didn't have much time to overthinking it because Razz came back with one of the stylists.

"You can keep your shirt on," he told Lynn. "But you have to do the same pose."

I knew Lynn long enough to know that she wasn't particularly happy about the decision, as she stood biting the inside of her cheek, but she was also smart enough to know that it was either this, or go home. And Lynn wasn't one to just give up.

"Fine," she said in a way that told everyone that she still wasn't happy.

The stylist took Lynn off into one of the conjoined rooms for preparations. Razz let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his beard.

"Is she always this high maintenance?" he asked.

"You call sticking up for herself 'high maintenance'?" I questioned.

Razz didn't say anything and instead walked away to get things ready for the shoot.

Things picked up from there. I was whisked away for hair and makeup, and about a half hour later Lynn and I were back on the set looking almost identical. We were both wearing denim; grey denim jeans and a faded denim button down shirt with the cuffs rolled up to the elbows. We even wore the same colored shoes. The only difference between our outfits was that Lynn's shirt was only buttoned up to the third fasten; everything else was open and exposed.

"This, apparently, was also part of the compromise I wasn't aware of," Lynn told me when I questioned her about it.

The pose we had to do wasn't anything sexy, but it would have been if Lynn had gone through with being shirtless. I just had to sit on the floor and lean back on my hands while Lynn had to straddle my outstretched leg with her chest up to my face. I wasn't exactly complaining about that.

Lynn did, or at least to me. She kept saying how it was demeaning and that this was about football not sex, and even though I told her that I agreed, it apparently wasn't enough. She kept her opinions to the two of us, though, not wanting to get into another tiff with Razz.

The weirdest part about this was that Coach was letting it happen. He was so adamant about all the rumors, and this would only be fueling the fire. But apparently pleasing the magazine was a higher demand.

"How comfortable are you two together?" Razz asked as he stood by his camera, looking at the two of us like his own piece of artwork.

I looked at Lynn, knowing she would be the one to voice that answer.

"Why does that matter?" Lynn asked.

"I just want to know what I'm working with," Razz explained, getting impatient again. "I don't want you to freeze up when you get into position."

Lynn hesitated for a moment before saying, "We'll be fine."

Razz didn't seem so sure, but he told us to get into our poses anyways. I got down onto the white flooring and leaned back, stretching out my legs before looking at Lynn and patting my lap. It might have been a trick of the lighting, but I swore I saw her face flush.

Hesitantly, Lynn got down on her knees and settled herself between my legs before looking back at the photographer for further guidance.

"Niall, I want you to lift your right knee up a little so it overlap's Lynn's leg," he instructed. "Lynn, put your arm around Niall and place your other hand on his shoulder. Then I want both of you to lean in closer so- just like that, don't move!"

Lynn seemed to mask her discomfort around me pretty well. She made sure to keep her hands light against my shoulders and eyes averted from mine. However, the longer we stayed in that position, she seemed to relax. But that could have also been my imagination.

About an hour and a half later we were finished with the pictures and being interviewed. We were all informed that the magazine would be released in about three weeks, and I just hoped after that, the team and I would be done with all this rubbish.

Once we had walked out of the building, I asked Jace if he wanted to get a drink with me. I was hoping to talk to him about all this; he always seemed to know what to do even if I never take his advice. He would be utterly pissed at what I did, but I needed someone to talk to and he was the only other person that knew what was going on.

"I think I need to take it easy, Niall," Jace declined. "I'm just getting over the flu."

"No, it's okay," I assured him even if I was a little disappointed.

I didn't bother asking any of the other lads to see if they wanted to join me. If Jace wasn't coming then I'd rather go alone. I get enough talk in the locker room about their mediocre lives; I don't need to hear it outside of practice as well.

After jumping into my car, I sped out of the parking lot and found myself at a rundown sports bar a few miles away from campus. This wasn't my go-to place, but I knew no one I knew would be there and some peace was what I wanted the most. And beer. Mostly beer.

× × ×

I wish I could say I was drunk, but I was unfortunately sober with throbbing knuckles and a sore face. I could replay the last two hours in my head perfectly, but I did not remember the last five minutes and how I ended up sitting on the curb in front of the Aspen House.

There wasn't anyone around, just me and a blanket of dirty snow surrounding me. The streetlight above shined down like an interrogation light, but I didn't move. All my muscles had tensed up to slowly begin the process of healing.

I ran a hand down my face and over my lip. My fingers came back with scarlet blood, dripping off and falling to the shoveled concrete at my feet. The taste of copper was thick on my tongue and the fresh small of snow couldn't even remove the metallic scent from my nose. I didn't know what had gotten over me, but once I had started, I couldn't stop. My time as an underground boxer had kicked in like a survival instinct.

Suddenly there was a shadow casting over me, drowning out the harsh lighting beaming down.

"Niall."

If Lynn didn't think I was a stalker before, she surly did now.

"What are you doing here?"

Slowly, I looked up at her. She knitted her brows together and shifted her body, the streetlight getting a good view of my face. The moment she saw the blood, her eyes went big and mouth gaped open in surprise.

She was wearing plaid pajama pants and a white tank top. Strands of hair blew in her face from the tight bun it was in on top of her head. Her arms were crossed as her hands rubbed up and down from the cold. She must have seen me out her window because I knew she wasn't anywhere else dressed in her PJs.

"Jesus, Niall," she whispered.

The next thing I knew she was grabbing me by my arm and pulling me inside the Hall. The warmth instantly hit me and my body relaxed slightly. I didn't think I had been outside for very long, but from the sudden pain at the tips of my ears, nose, and fingers told me that it had been a while.

I didn't have a choice as Lynn continued to bring me up the stairs and to the third floor and into her room. I went along in silence and no struggle. She sat me down on the bed before saying something and leaving me alone in the room. She came back shortly with a bag of ice and a purple towel in one hand and a damp cloth in the other.

Lynn looked at me for a moment, taking my features in. "What happened?"

"I got in a fight," I said, my voice hoarse.

She wrapped the purple towel around the ice before handing it to me. "Clearly."

I took it gratefully and gently placed it against my cheek were I could feel the sting the most. Carefully, Lynn went on her knees between my legs and started dabbing the blood on my lip.

"I was at a bar," I sighed. "I had to vent so I was talking to the tender. Some asshat thought it was okay to butt into the conversation and put in his two cents. We called each other names and then he took a hit at me."

I started laughing at the memory, at the thrill and adrenaline running through my veins. I had so much enjoyment just from the simple act of punching that I could relieve it for months. Suddenly, there was a pain along my ribs, making me grip my side with the hand that wasn't holding the ice.

"Fuck," I said through my laughter. "He got me good, too."

Lynn leaned back onto her heels. "You're laughing? Did you want to get hit?"

I sucked in a breath and sat up straight, looking at Lynn with a nod of my head. "Yeah."

Lynn looked mortified by my answer. "Why?" she asked. "Why would you want to get the shit beaten out of you?"

"Same reason you wanted to hit me on New Year's."

Instantly, her face softens with understanding. The reason I wanted to get hit and to hit someone was because it was liberating. It releases all this frustration and makes me feel a little bit better about myself. I've been mentally beating myself up since New Year's, but for someone to actually physically do it for me was probably psychotic, but it felt amazing.

"I know you're hurting, Lynn," I said. "But I hate myself just as much as you do."

She shook her head and went back to cleaning the blood off my face the best she could. "I don't hate you, Niall."

Lynn tried to be gentle, but that only went so far. I would wince every so often and she would pull back slightly only to start again a moment later. The smell of peppermint flew around me from her nearness, and her close proximately was rather soothing. I could feel my body start to relax; shoulders slumping and fists unclenching.

Lynn was always a sight to look at, but seeing her up close only proved that. She was of fair complexion with a golden tone from the California sun. Long wisps of russet hair splashed with blonde that made the perfect color of drizzled caramel. She had the kindest pair of cobalt blue eyes rimmed by long, striking lashes. Flushed cheeks and flawlessly carved lips; sitting this close to her I could see them clearly, smooth with cherry lip balm.

"Lynn," I said, but she continued to dab at my lip. "Lynn, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

I grabbed her hand to make her stop. She looked up at me surprised. Her wide eyes looked like they've seen years of abuse and I couldn't help but think that I was part of that.

"I'm not talking about the bloody nose," I said softly. My throat started to close up and I blamed it on the pain shooting up my jaw and cheek. "I just miss you, Lynn. So much. I know what I did is going to take time, but I don't want you out of my life. You make me a better person."

I watched as her eyes soften from my words. A strand of hair stuck to her lip, but she did nothing to remove it. All her attention was on me and that was all that I wanted.

"You're the Mercury Effect," I said, my voice nearly a whisper now. "You've flipped my world upside down and made me think outside of what I know. You got me out of my comfort zone and made me do things I'd never in a million years even consider doing. I might have fucked up, but I'm still learning how to... to be a better person. But you're helping me. And I'm so sorry that I hurt you again."

With a shaking hand, I reached out and cupped her chin. The ice in my other hand was long forgotten and now lay on the bed beside me.

Feeling her again, even as simple as touching her face, sent a whole new wave of adrenaline through my blood. The desire to kiss her grew heavy in my heart, but I held back knowing I was already treading on thin ice.

"Estoy desesperadamente enamorado de ti," I breathed out. "Tu eres mi luz en la oscuridad."

I didn't notice the tears until one had slipped out of her control and fell down her cheek. I swiftly wiped it away with my thumb, knowing if she kept this up, I wouldn't be able to continue my strong front any further.

"Niall," Lynn started. "I don't... I don't know what that means."

Pulling her face toward mine, our lips nearly brushed against each other when I said, "it doesn't matter. Just bésame."

I pushed all my self-doubt to the back of my mind and took the risk at full stride, kissing her. The moment her lips were pressed against mine, the feeling of adrenaline running through my body turned into pure passion.

Lynn was taken off guard, but she instantly kissed me back. From the shaking of her hands that ran up my arms, I could tell she was nervous. But she didn't break away like I expected her to. Instead, she lifted herself on her knees to get closer, her arms reaching around my neck to press herself against me. I pulled her in close, afraid if I didn't, she might slip away from me again. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard that I was sure she could feel it through our clothes.

When we pulled away to catch our breaths, I placed my forehead against hers. My hands were on her hips, thumbs rubbing the thin skin along her waist. I felt her fingers lace through my hair, the sensation bringing goosebumps up and down my arms.

I grabbed one of her hands and laced our fingers together between us. I've missed this, just being in her arms. The lusty part that we had together wasn't even on my mind. This, the holding and just simply being near each other, was what I missed the most.

"If you were looking for someone to beat you up," Lynn started, looking at our entwined hands. "You should have just asked."