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zoebechtle-blog · 7 years ago

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Unlikely Chapter 1

I will be the first person to tell you - there was nothing about this relationship that made sense. On paper, we were painfully dissimilar: him, a sexy, successful Irish popstar wanted by half the world, and me, an American werewolf living in London. Well, not quite a werewolf, but it took monthly waxings to keep my Greek heritage off my upper lip. I barely topped out at 5’2” on a good shoe day, and leaned more towards the plump end of the body shape spectrum. My grandmother often spoke of my child bearing hips and tried to convince me that men liked a big ass and full boobs. She had yet to be proven right. Meanwhile, his chicken legs looked like they could barely support him. He binged watched ESPN and Golf Channel, and I had zero hand/eye coordination (the fact that I played soccer in high school was a fluke - there were no cuts). Before I met him I barely even knew what a melody was and had forgotten everything I had learned in elementary school music classes. He played the guitar like he was born with it, and pulled notes out of the air to make music that made my heart ache. As I said, nothing about us made sense.

I’d moved to the UK to attend grad school four years ago, and ended up staying. After spending my first year year here alone, and going on what can only be described as a series of tragic dates with men I’d met online, I was lonely and seemingly incapable of making friends. In an act of desperation, I texted my godmother’s niece, Hannah. The one and only time I'd met her we were six. She had told me that my hair cut made me look like a boy and I tripped her going up the stairs. It definitely was not love at first sight. I’d come to London with the number programmed into my phone, but determined not to contact the now-grown mean girl. However, desperate times...

It turned out that Hannah had actually grown up quite kick ass. She did something in the financial sector I could not begin to explain, but she was funny, charming, and when drunk could belch the alphabet. Given that my previous 52 Saturday nights had been filled with Netflix and listening to my neighbors fight or fuck, I latched on quickly. Over the course of the next few years I became friends with her crowd of friends, and a few people I befriended came into the mix. It was a small but lovely urban family, and for the most part we all accepted one another for who we were. I barely missed getting laid so good that my head pounded into a headboard while screaming out for God. Barely.

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Hannah was obsessed. Seriously. I was ready to brain her. The girl had finally swiped right and found a guy she was really into. For weeks we heard about him ad nauseum - Willie was Irish, worked at a firm four doors down from her in The City, and seemed like an all around decent chap. Being bitter, I naturally hated him before I met him. The nail in his coffin came the night Hannah casually brought up his roommate, and how she thought I’d like him. Nope. Not the dreaded friend fix up.

“Stop it right now. You know that’s a hard no.” I flung a piece of baby corn at her out of my stir fry to accentuate my point.

“C’mon. He’s proper cute, and is laddy without being a lad.”

“Yeah, because everything about me screams that I’m the lad type.”

“It’s not like a new type would kill you. There are only so many men in London who live in their mother’s basements with cats.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are ya?”

“Nope. Come on. He’s a musician and he’s hilarious. I met him at their house the other night. I think you two would get on. So does Willie.”

“Willie hasn’t met me. How does he have any idea who I’d get along with?”

“Obviously he’s heard all about you and the rest of the gang and seen pics on my Insta.”

I went back to my dinner frowning. It’s not that I didn’t want to meet guys, it’s that I was scared to meet them. Undoubtedly I would say something weird or awkward, or give out far more information than they ever wanted to know. A few dudes had piqued my interest over the years, but no one that I liked ever really liked me, and vice versa. A lot of mediocre to decent sex had been had (I’m not angel - momma knows what she likes), but that whole happily ever after thing didn’t seem like reality. At 27, I resigned myself to possibly getting a hamster (allergic to cats and who wants to walk a dog in London?) and embracing my spinsterhood.

This conversation and my lack of game stayed in the back of my mind for the next few days. Hannah was right about needing a change in my scenery. Especially since the failed date with the cat dude. My eyes itched in the memory. However, it was Thursday, and Thursday was quiz night at the pub. Most of our crew usually turned out to showcase our combined hundreds of years of education and to get a decent drunk on. I intentionally scheduled a light caseload on Fridays in the event of a hangover. I may get older, but wiser didn’t seem to be coming with the territory.

As luck would have it, I stayed late with a client this evening so I had to book it from the Tube stop to the pub. I texted Paul, one of our friends, asking him to save me a seat and order me a Stella. And a shot of Jameson’s. It had been that kind of day.

A text buzzed from Hannah as I got within a block of the bar. “Are you coming from work?”

“Yup. Got tied up in a session. Be there in 5.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you trying to come onto me, perv? Work clothes.”

“That you rolled around the floor all day in?”

What the fuck? I looked down at my black jersey pants and green boatneck tee. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing, but I did spend the majority of my day on the floor working with kids with autism. It’s not like I could do that wearing cashmere and stilettos. And who the fuck was I trying to impress? Two of the guys in our crew were gay, and I’d hooked up with the straight one already. These people had seen me vomit through my nose. Nothing I do could phase them.

Walking into the bar I greeted Eric, the doorman, with a wave (yeah, I’d made out with him once upon a tequila evening) and flashed a peace sign to Allie, our favorite server. We sat the same table every week thanks to the fact that Paul worked a few blocks away and often took a late lunch/early dismissal to get here in time to secure a table. Counting heads, I noticed the numbers were off. Instead of our usual 7-8, there were 10. Oh hell. New people.

As I got closer, I noticed Hannah hanging on the arm of one of the new faces. Great, it’s meet the boyfriend time. And he obviously brought his friends. I said a silent prayer that they weren’t stupid-we take pride in our 10 week unbeaten streak. Oh well, here goes nothing.

“What’s up, bitches?” I shouted as I wrapped my arm around Carly’s shoulder.

“Zoe!” Multiple people responded in salute as I squeezed in next to Paul. The empty seat was flanked by an unfamiliar blonde head, and being me, I didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence.

“A Stella and a shot, my queen,” Paul said, gesturing to the table while offering his ruddy cheek for a kiss.

“Thank you, pookie bear.” I leaned down and blew a raspberry on his cheek.

“Zoe!” I heard Hannah trying to get my attention from three seats away. Grabbing the shot and sucking it back (oh, burning), I made eye contact with her, silently yelling for her invasion of my safety zone, and waved.

“This is Willie!” She squeezed the arm of the pale, dark haired guy next to her. He grinned, and shit, I did like his smile. He practically was a heart eyed emoji looking at Hannah, so I could check my attitude for the night.

“Hi, Willie,” I shook his outstretched hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Zoe. I hear I need to be on my toes around you lot.”

“We’re friendly savages once you get to know us,” I assured him.

Hannah piped up, “This is Deo, Willie’s brother.” Deo had eyebrows that challenged my tact, but he gave me a friendly smile. I made brief eye contact and nodded. Fine and dandy.

“And this is Niall. Willie’s roommate.” The blonde on my left grinned at me and offered his hand. Well holy motherfucker. This is why she was asking if I had changed. He was beautiful. Seriously. The scene from Wayne’s World where Wayne sees Cassandra for the first time basically became my life. I swear I could hear “Dreamweaver” playing in the background. I averted my eyes as I felt Paul elbow me.

“Hi,” I was very focused on tucking my purse under the table and adjusting my jacket just so on the back of the chair.

“Hey there,” he said. His voice sounded like the shot of Irish whiskey burning its way to my stomach. Oh hell. His (large, beautiful) hand was still hanging out there, waiting to be acknowledged. Unable to respond to basic decorum, I gave him a sideways high five. Oh my god. Paul loudly snorted into his beer as my face flushed hotter than the sun.

My phone beeped, saving me from more embarrassment. I looked at the text from Jess, sitting across the table. “Breathe, Z. And wipe the drool.” My response was the middle finger emoji. While I was texting her, Brian sent a message from the other side of Hannah, “Your game is on point as always.” “Piss off. It got you into my bed twice in the last year.” Ugh, he was pompous asshole. Unfortunately, he was also genetically blessed, so I sometimes got weak.

Unsure what to do and faced with a dry throat, I knocked back most of my pint. Sweet, sweet beer. My right leg start jiggling uncontrollably as I stared at the table in front of me. I could literally feel the heat coming off of Niall, and knew with the tight fit of the table if I turned even slightly our legs would touch. I scooted closer to Paul.

“Oi, Z! You’re on my lap. Unless you suddenly grew a cock, I’m not drunk enough for that!” Oh fuck you, Paul. I could feel Niall laughing beside me, and prayed it was at Paul’s inappropriateness and not my obvious social anxiety. Sensing my nerves, Jess stood and announced a toilet break and motioned for me. Carefully standing to not rub my ass on Niall’s shoulder, I slid behind Paul, digging my nails into his shoulder and hissing, “Another pint and shot, dickface. And this round is on YOUR tab.”

In the bathroom, Jess pulled out her makeup bag. “Okay, we need to cover up this flush. You look like a drunk sailor.” Hannah burst into the room with Carly hot on her heels. Christ, we were such a cliche.

“I can.not. believe you didn’t tell us Niall Horan was coming to quiz night, Hannah!” Carly stole a lipstick from Jess’s bag and started re-lacquering her lips. “I mean, what the fuck? We’re your best friends!”

Hannah took the compact of powder foundation from Jess and started working on my face, even as I tried to smack her hands away. “I didn’t know he was coming for sure. I invited Willie so you all couldn’t dodge meeting him. He asked if it was okay if he brought his mates.”

“Wait, you didn’t know Willie is Niall’s cousin? Do you not follow any of their instagrams? They post pics of each other all the time!” Jess shrieked.

“Yeah, I found out last week when I went over to his house. He hadn’t told me before. I assume he didn’t want a girl using him to get to cousin.”

“Niall FUCKING Horan and you didn’t tell us!” Carly continued to rage, pulling out her bun and fluffing her hair.

I stood in shock while Hannah tried to put concealer on a zit on my chin that wouldn’t go away and Jess sprayed something into my hair. “Wait up. Who the hell is Niall Horan and why are we freaking out that he’s here? Should I be freaking out? I gave him a fucking HIGH FIVE.” I didn’t know who he was but I could feel the panic rising.

All three stopped and looked at me. “Zoe. Niall Horan...From One Direction.”

“Oh my god. He’s the blonde one. I only know the name of Harry with the long hair. The blonde one is super cute.” Three pairs of eyes looked at me as if to say, “Duh.” “Omg, I’m sitting next to him. I GAVE HIM A FUCKING HIGH FIVE, HANNAH. Jesus.” The layer of powder spackling my face was now useless. My flush could heat a thousand homes during a blizzard. “Is this the cousin you wanted to fix me up with? Are you insane?!”

“Wait, what? You wanted to fix Zoe up with Niall?” Carly looked offended, and frankly I couldn’t blame her. She was the hot one. Hannah was the sweet one, Jess was the responsible one, and I was the funny one. We all had our unassigned roles, at least in my head.

Rolling her eyes, Hannah resumed my impromptu makeover as I stood, still dumbfounded. “Yes, slag. You have a boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’d drop him in a sec,” Carly interrupted.

“Anyhow, yes, I wanted to fix up Z. His sense of humor is almost as evil as hers, and she deserves a nice, normal guy.” She poked me in the chest with a mascara wand to make her point.

“Hardly normal, isn’t he?” I responded, finally gathering a few of my thoughts. Jess laughed at my gaping jaw. “Han, I’m going to die at this table of embarrassment, and even if I don’t, Paul is going to murder me if we lose because my brain is cheese right now. I can’t TALK in front of a regular guy I don’t know. Nevermind one who is fucking famous.”

“Relax, Z.” Carly finally sensed my pending tantrum and threw her arms around me. “You’re fine. And remember, Paul is an asshole if we lose at trivia. Those bastards from Social Meme-ia are dying to break our streak. Tossers.”

An hour and a half later, we were in the middle of round two, and solidly kicking ass. I still had not made eye contact with Niall, though a few times during moments of excitement, I had bounced up and down and our legs collided. Each time I yanked mine back in horror, and I could hear him let out a little laugh. Carly had switched seats to be sitting across from us, and she was all but laying her tits on the table at him. I admired her confidence. Niall appeared to be eating it up, so good for him. Two whiskeys and three beers into the night, I was loosening up. Now I could at least blame my flushed face on the booze.

“Next two questions are for our science geeks in the crowd,” Ted, the quizmaster informed us. “Yes!” Paul pumped his fist and threw his arm around my shoulder. “This is all you, Zo!”

“No pressure or anything, thanks,” I laughed. The two questions dealt with the brain, and I squealed in delight. We won top points and took a solid lead. I made eye contact with the leader of Social Meme-ia and raised my eyebrow cockily. And maybe scratched my nose with my middle finger. Take that, losers.

“Science geek, eh?” Niall nudged my arm, forcing me to look into his blue eyes that basically cut my soul. He smiled the sweetest, softest smile I had ever seen. I (thankfully) resisted the urge to caress his cheek. And I realized I had not responded and was just staring at him.

“Um, yeah. I have a biology degree.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Ni,” okay, when did he become ‘Ni’ and why was Paul bellowing in my ear? “My Zoe girl has three fucking degrees and is the queen of the science category. She kills that ‘FUCKING WANKER at Social Meme-ia every FUCKING WEEK.’”

Trying to apologize for my drunk friend, I explained, “Paul leans on me because the only organ he can name is a penis.” Did I really just say penis?

Niall’s face turned bright red and he started cracking up. “You are all amazing.”

“Thank you, Ni!” Paul again shouted in my ear, causing me to physically cover it from his thunderous drunk voice. Also, again with the Ni? Had they even spoken to one another before this exchange? I took a swig of my pint and realized he was talking to me again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you use your biology degree? What do you do?”

That’s an easy simple question. Even I can handle this. “Me? What do I do?” Okay, maybe not. He nodded at me encouragingly, and I polished off the rest of my Stella. “I use my powers for good instead of evil. I’m an occupational therapist at a clinic for autistic kids.”

“Very cool. I work with an autism charity in Ireland.”

“That’s cool.” God, Zoe. Open your mouth and let words fall out. It’s not hard. “Um, which charity?”

Allie came to the rescue with another round of pints. Niall motioned to me and himself, and she nodded in some understanding.

“What was that about?” I questioned.

“I ordered you and I another round of Jameson. I think we need to bond over shots-you’ve got a lot to say in that pretty head that you’re not letting out.” His grin split his face and I, to my own shock, found myself smiling back at him.

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