It was my first concert alone; normally I'd be going with my best friend, but she was away on vacation with her family the week of the concert. I can honestly tell you I have no idea how I got the ticket I did; it must be the luck of loving the Irish. You see, I was looking online just to see what kind of ticket I could afford when I stumbled upon an insanely amazing deal for a second row seat right next to the stage. I bought it immediately so no one would be able to take it instead; I called the supplier to ensure that the ticket was real because deals like that just don't happen. Period.
Anyway, a few months later I was in line after having my bag hand checked and put through a metal detector, which was not surprising considering the amount of hype and screaming fans One Direction has. Every girl or group of girls was being let in separately and personally escorted to their seats by an usher; when it was my turn, I was greeted by a heavy, middle aged man.
"'ello, love," he smiled, holding out his hand for my ticket.
"Hello," I smiled back at him, my heart thumping in my chest with excitement for the upcoming performance. I could barely understand what he was saying.
I followed him down the aisles until we had reached my seat; then he asked, "Do you mind if I sit for a minute, love? It gets a bit hard for a guy like me to walk around this much."
With concern in my voice, I immediately replied, "No, no – go ahead. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah. I just get winded easy." I nodded. "Now this is…uh, One Direction, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah. This is a big arena for them."
"Yeah, I suppose it is. I had the opportunity to talk to them earlier, they're really excited," he said smiling. "What's your favorite song by them, love?"
"I don't think you know how hard a question that is." His body shook with laughter at my response. "You know, I think it's a toss-up between Little Things and What Makes You Beautiful."
"Really? Well look at me. I'm not a good looking fellow, not beautiful at all, really."
"Just because you don't have rock hard abs and a good butt doesn't mean you're not beautiful."
A chuckle reverberated in his chest for a moment, then he paused and said, "I'm not sure I know what you mean, love."
"Well, you're one of the nicest people I've met today. You seem to love your job, and you seem like a really nice person. That's beauty, really. Not how you look."
We sat in silence for a moment as he took in what I said. "You're a deep girl. You know, I think you're going to get far in life."
I laughed a little at what he said. "Thanks."
"I'm serious! I'm going to have to go soon, but I want to know: why do you like One Direction so much?" he asked.
"Loaded question." I paused for a moment. "Well, because they change lives, I suppose. I mean, they were ordinary teens with a dream and they were able to make that a reality. They give us hope. I mean, we look at them, and we just know that we can do anything – I can do anything, if I just set my mind to it. They did the impossible…yeah – I'm ranting, aren't I?"
He muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing. I've got to be going now," he said standing up. "Have fun, love!"
"Thanks, Niall," I smiled up at him.
His eyes widened, and he glanced quickly behind us to make sure no one had heard. In his normal voice, he asked quietly, "How did you figure it out?"
"Sorry," I smiled sheepishly. "You're laugh. You can disguise your voice, but not your laugh as well," I told him.
"Y-you won't tell anyone, will you?" he asked, eyes still wide.
Taken aback, I immediately replied, "No! No, never. I wouldn't."
"Well, love," his fake accent said, "a little bird gave me something in case I met a special someone tonight." I watched his hand reach around his back and pull out a backstage pass. "Are you doing anything after the show? And would your parents be okay with it?" he asked, curiously looking around.
"N-no," my voice faltered as I took the pass from him. "Thank you, so, so much! That's brilliant!" Despite promises to myself no to cry if I ever had the chance to meet them, my eyes started to tear up.
"I'll see you after, love," he winked, walking back towards the entrance of the arena. A while later, I heard him shout, "I don't know why you even like One Direction- they're all crap. 'All go home. I quit this job; it's crap!" I laughed quietly at his outburst, then entertained myself with my notebook as I waited for their opening act.
After the opening video played, my eyes frantically searched the set to find where the five boys would emerge. Niall stepped out right in front of me from behind a rising screen, and, I swear, the first thing he did was find me in the audience. He gravitated towards my side of the stage for the majority of the show, but I found whenever he left, I would wait anxiously for him to return. It was a bit disappointing when I found Little Things had been choreographed so Niall was on the other side of the stage.
I think the most beautiful and utterly amazing part of their performance was before they sang WMYB; Niall had announced the concert was almost over, when Louis got up and started to go on about how amazing Niall was. They all piled into a group hug around him; when the music started, the pile tipped with Niall falling on top of Liam. "It's not what it looks like!" Niall screamed into the mic while getting off of him as his eyes frantically found mine. The audience erupted with laughter, drowning out Liam's words as he started to sing from the floor. As the song continued, white beach balls fell from the ceiling, one of which Louis head-butted, along with red and white confetti. Throughout the song, Niall's eyes would beet mine, then look away, then meet mine again. When Harry started to sing his solo, Niall's eyes refused to leave mine; I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Letting myself get lost in his baby blue eyes was a privilege; it seemed like for the first time in a while I could stop thinking and simply be.
His eyes tore themselves away from mine as they all started singing again; as I watched them jump around the stage, someone tapped me on the shoulder. A security guard was towering over me with his hand outstretched asking for the pass Niall had given me earlier. After handing it to him, I quickly followed him between rows of screaming girls to backstage; instead of meeting them in their dressing rooms as I expected, I was frisked for weapons, my bag was searched, and I was led to their car in the garage. Paul instructed me to wait in the backseat for them before leaving me alone in the car; I decided to wait in the third row of seats as not to be tramples when the boys arrived. Soon enough, Liam jumped in the front seat and Louis, Harry, and Zayn took the middle while Niall climbed in back we me.
Not making a scene about my presence, he simply hugged me tight and, while the boys were screaming out their excitement for the show, told me how glad he was that I came. I braced myself against him as Paul tore out of the garage following two identical cars.
"So, Louis," Liam called from the front, "when do you think the tweets are going to start rol-well, hello." He had turned around in his seat to look back at Louis and saw his arms wrapped around me. "Is this the one you told us about?"
My face blushed bright red as the remaining three boys turned to look back at me. "Hello," I said quietly.
"HI!" Louis shouted.
Zayn gave me a normal "Hello," and Harry had a weird grin on his face as he said, "Hey."
"We have to apologize for the smell, love," Liam said from the front.
I smiled back at him. "It's okay, I grew up with a football player – American football."
"Are you from America?" Louis asked.
"Yes," I nodded. "I live here now, though."
After exchanging a glance with Liam, Zayn proposed, "Since this was the last concert of our tour, we should take you out to tea tomorrow. What do you say? Two o'clock?"
"Sure, where?"
"We'll text you," Harry piped up. "Give me your phone."
I told him the password while I grabbed it out of my bag for him; I saw Zayn eyeing the top of my sketchbook, but he didn't say anything. I turned to look back at Niall who blushed slightly at having been caught staring at me. His blushing made me blush harder which made Louis notice it. "You two are so cute!" he screamed. Oh my God…
Seeing my apparent discomfort, Zayn asked me if I liked the concert. "It was wonderful," I said. "You guys defiantly have a…a stage presence that just blows us all away."
"Deep." Harry looked up from my phone.
Niall smiled, "I told you." I blushed again. By now, I hate my face.
As the boys stated arguing with Harry about what names to put in my phone, I was left alone with my thoughts for a moment to take in everything around me. The "new-car-smell" I noticed earlier had been replaced by testosterone, sweat, B.O., and a tangible, buzzing energy of excitement. Liam was cooling off in a wife-beater, Louis and Harry were exchanging different looks (mostly loving or funny faces), Zayn was unaffected, and Niall had a look of utter happiness on his face. It was every girl's dream.
I yawned, waiting on the hotel room bed for him to get out of the shower. Paul had dropped me off here, making sure the boys knew where I was, before leaving for a security conference. He probably just let them know so Harry wouldn't walk in naked, I considered as my thoughts wandered. I decided to take out my notebook again and scribbled down a few words. The scribbling soon turned to furious writing as I tried to get the words out of my head and on to the paper fast enough before I was on to the next thought.
"You look like you're practicing for a writing marathon," a voice said from behind me, making me jump.
"Oh!" Niall was leaning against the bathroom door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. As hard as I tried, I could not will myself to tear my eyes away from him.
"Umm…good view?" he asked quietly, smiling. My face turned beet red as I started to close my notebook. "No, no, nono, wait! What were you writing?"
"Nothing, really," I replied, face burning as I slipped the pens in my bag.
"Well, for you to be writing that fast it had to be something," he said, walking over to sit next to me on the bed. I could feel the warmth of his skin from an inch away. "Can I see?" I found my voice was stuck in my throat – more like nailed several times. All I could so was nod slightly as my trembling hand pushed the notebook across my lap. Before flipping open the cover, his lips brushed my ear as he whispered, "Would you be more comfortable if I put a shirt on?" A shiver tumbled down my spine as a drop of water from his hair landed on the back of my neck. Averting his gaze, I nodded my head quickly before he left to find his suitcase. As the pressure on the mattress was lifted, a breath I didn't know I was holding escaped my lips; I could hear his deep chuckle from the other side of the room.
"So, do you write a lot?" he asked, pulling a grey T-shirt over his head.
"A bit," my gaze immediately hit the floor as he pulled out a pair of green boxers.
"How much is a bit?" he laughed, obviously not believing me.
"Mmm…every day," I smiled, eyes still on the floor.
"What do you write?"
"Mostly poems, but I'm working on a story," I told him, as my thumb stroked the notebook cover.
The pressure was on the mattress once more as he sat next to me again. His hair was still dripping, and I could smell his aftershave. Taking the notebook, he opened the cover this time, eyes scanning the first page. As he read my work, my eye-lids began to grow heavy; I laid down on the bed, watching him read my chicken-scratch until my eyes finally closed.
I awoke to the sound of Liam reading my most personal poem aloud to the band:
I slipped up today
Called her you
She stared blankly into my eyes
Asked who you were
I could not say anything
My throat was too dry
How can you stand
Living with the way we said goodbye
How can you not come back
Knowing I'm still here
I miss you
Want you back
But I won't go
You need to come
My pride is in the way
You were the one
You should apologize
I did nothing wrong
Why did you fight
What did I do
Petty things sometimes
Can end the wonderful
Then I think
What if we had never met
Stuck together for years
No choice but to be friends
If the school was bigger
I wonder if we would even have talked
Cruel tricks of fate
That led me to lose you
We were young and naive
Yet I miss you still
I think of you often
They would try distracting me if they knew
Thinking now
Our friendship was never ideal
Yet I wish we could have ended it gentler
Fights leave scars
We met on the street
I tried conversation
If not required by norm
I would have run
You seemed fine
You hide it better than I
Or maybe you are whole
and I was the one left with the broken heart
A part of me will always belong to you
But now I need to let go
I will never forget you
But I need you to know I forgive you
Please
Don't forget me
They don't know
I cannot tell them
So I must tell you
Everything
I'm not asking for you to fix me
Just understand
It could never have worked
Yet I still find myself crying
As his voice faded on the last word, a strong silence filled the room as my heart skipped with thoughts sprinting through my head. What did they thing? Did they like it? Did they hate it? Do they think I'm some helpless thing now?
My thoughts were shattered with Zayn's voice. "Niall…I swear, if you don't keep her I will."
Harry's voice followed, saying, "I second that. I mean, I don't read much poetry, but this was seriously good. And…well, she's quite fit, Ni."
"Harry!" Louis's voice was wounded. I heard stomping followed by the door opening.
"Louis!" Harry called after him, his footsteps soon chasing after the first set.
One of them sighed. "Sometimes I don't think Harry will every learn," Liam said.
"So…," Niall began awkwardly, "do approve? I mean…can I ask her to come with us?"
"I don't see why not–" Liam started before Zayn cut him off.
"Niall, just to be safe, get to know her a bit better before you jump to anything."
"Okay, I can see where you're coming from," Liam said thoughtfully. "But I still think you can ask her. Don't get too attached too soon, though, okay?"
"Liam," Zayn's voice began cautiously, "I think you know it's already too late for that."
"Ni–"
"Listen, Liam," Niall said. "Remember everything I told you about my dream girl? She is so confident on the outside, but I know she's not. I mean, when I came out of the shower, Liam, it was so cute, her face turned beet red, and she couldn't say anything."
"And that's when you decided, wasn't it?" Zayn asked.
Niall must have nodded, because there was a pregnant pause; the mattress was soon caving by my feet as I did the best to keep pretending I was asleep.
"Alright, mate," Liam conceded.
"Night, Ni," Zayn said softly.
"Night," Niall's reply came from the direction of my feet. After a moment, the door closed, and the weight on the mattress shifted to the other side of the bed where Niall climbed under the covers. It was then that I noticed someone had pulled a thick blanket up to my neck and covered my toes; it was probably Niall. Eventually, as I laid there pretending to be asleep, I could feel myself begin to drift off again into my dreams. But honestly, what dream is better than the reality I'm living right now?