“I tried playing it cool, but when I'm looking at you, I can't ever be brave, cause you make my heart race. Shot me out of the sky, you're my kryptonite, you keep makin' me weak, yeah, frozen and can't breathe.” - One Thing
FEBRUARY 14, 2012
9:15 A.M.
Liam tapped the pen frantically as if it were a drumstick while he stared at the cards covering the table. He focused on the words he’d written, scratched out, and rewritten at least ten times already. They still weren’t the right ones. He linked his hands through his hair and sighed in frustration. How could something so simple be so bloody hard? One sentence and writing it was pure torture.
He secured the pen in his fingers and wrote again, surprised at how steady his hand was. When he looked at what he'd written, he gritted his teeth, threw the pen down and walked out of the flower shop, leaving the roses and card behind.
He was debating what to do next when his cell rang. It was Niall. “Yeah?”
“Top of the mornin' to you too you bloody arse,” Niall said.
“Sorry,” Liam mumbled.
“You haven’t sent the flowers yet, have ya?”
“Nope.”
“You can do it, mate. Forget the flowers, just go to her place and tell her.”
He closed his eyes, recalling the countless times he'd tried telling Sarah how he felt about her in the past. There was a reason the boys referred to the entire thing as Liam's personal SOS aka “Sarah Olsen Symptom” which in turn produced “Sarah Olsen Stories.” The irony of the acronym didn't escape him. Worse part was: they were right. It was a dire situation at best. He'd loved Sarah Olsen since he could remember and she didn’t have a clue.
Liam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Right then. That's what I'll do. Just head on over and tell her she's the one.”
“That's the spirit,” Niall replied with enthusiasm. “Ring me when you're done.”
Liam shook his head. “You're in bright spirits for a fictional holiday.”
“Zayn said it's not fictional,” Niall supplied. “Plus I met someone last night. Maybe she changed my mind.”
Liam laughed. “Wow, so who do I owe the pleasure of this pep-talk to?”
“Name's Emily,” Niall said. “Can't wait for the lads to meet her. I'm bringing her to the show tonight. Anyway, enough about me. Go. Tell Sarah you love her mate, you won't regret it.”
“Right,” Liam said. “Bye.”
Niall's pep-talk struck some kind of chord with him, suddenly he had renewed courage. Renewed courage or total senselessness, didn’t matter which, it was all leading him to the same place: Sarah’s apartment building.
He stood before the towering structure and felt his stomach flip, twist, then settle in a solid knot. What was he doing here? How did he possibly think this was anything but a very bad idea? Girls like Sarah; confident, smart, well spoken and most of all gorgeous were untouchable. Even for him.
He knew the fact that he thought Sarah out of his reach was ridiculous. It’s not like he had any real problems getting on the receiving end of girls affections. Their new-found fame solidified his spot in the dreams of many. He couldn’t say he minded, but Sarah acted as if he were the same guy she’d always known which he was, and that made her…perfect.
