Hi, I'm Minny and this is my first fanfic... and my first One Direction fanfic, so yay! :D I hope you enjoy, I love critiques/reviews - but please, CONSTRUCTIVE. Don't just say 'story sucks' and not give me an explanation why... C: And I'm sorry for grammar mistakes/spelling mistakes, etc. I'm not exactly sure what it's like in England, so I can't describe it very well. Oh, and I'm not affiliated with 1D, obviously - you already knew that. ;) 1D doesn't come in until the later chapters: probably not until the next chapter or the chapter after that. :) Also, beware minor swearing (okay, she has a bit of a potty-mouth...). For the younger ones out there, she's says a few swears (shit, crap, and fuck are used). Oh, and enjoy!

We were moving back to London. It had been what, seven years since I moved to America? I hadn't lost my accent, but it wasn't as thick as it used to. A lot has changed since I moved. Firstly, my best friend became famous. Second, I've grown. I used to be 4'3. Now, I was 5'4. I know it's not too tall, but… Third, I've stopped singing.

I knew that Louis and I wouldn't go back to normal. I had the biggest crush on him in junior high, but he always saw me as a friend. Besides, he had a girlfriend and she was also my best friend – I didn't want to get in the way of the two of them. She dumped him after I moved, or at least, that's what she told me. We chatted over IM, but stopped over a year ago... Now Louis was single. But had my luck truly changed? No. The truth be told, I had a one-in-a-million chance of becoming his girlfriend. A ton of girls were after him. You know how they get at One Direction concerts – flinging their bras and panties around like a bunch of little hoes [jealous...]. Yes, I have been to one... billions of girls surrounding me, all screaming out their names, signs held high that read, 'I love you!' and 'Marry me!', to boys they never met personally. I looked up at him and smiled on that day. I was an idiot.

I thought he would look down at me and notice.

He didn't recognize me, of course.

Why would he...

He was famous...

He didn't need me...

He didn't recognize me...

Didn't even fucking glance at me…

Why did I hope he would?

Crap.

Stop thinking about him.

"Alisha!" my mum called, interrupting my thoughts. I dropped my feather pen and sighed. I tossed my diary into my suitcase. "Are you done packing yet? We've got to catch the flight!"

I sigh and sit up, zipping up my suitcase. Looking at my empty room, with the bed removed and all my decorations, it looks so clean. I remember the first time I entered, when I was twelve years old. For a minute, I felt emotional.

Then I remembered I was going to England. I would see Macy again and everything; it would be wonderful… I'd be reunited with my best friend. Of course, I'd probably never see Louis again – but I guess… I don't know.

There was a fat chance that I would.

I doubted that I would...

"Alisha!"

"I'm coming, mum!" I yelled back, picking up my suitcases, which were heavier than I would have expected. I threw them into the living room and attempted to pick up the huge boxes packed with furniture, but failed, falling on my back. "Shit!"

"Are you okay?" she questioned me, helping me up. I was about to answer 'no, my head is aching!' but she probably didn't care. Her voice was distant, and even though she was 'present' she wasn't really 'present' – spiritually, you know?

I sighed again and got up, only to be knocked down once more.

My little brother, Alfred - I affectionately called him 'Alfie' - came tumbling into my stomach. The little runt nearly knocked me over. "CHARGE!" he squealed, a syrofoam sword in his left hand. He swung it at me, and I swatted him away. "Brat!" I muttered, but my scowl turned into a grin, but I pulled him close and hugged him.

He was nine years old now - a 'big boy' according to him. I remember wen he was a little baby; Louis and I would poke him and beg him to do something. We would pretend to be a married couple, and play 'house'. He would be our son.

Crap. Stop thinking about Louis. You don't matter anymore.

My eyes widened at the thought as if it wasn't me who had said it.

He's not mine anymore and he never was, I realized.

I sighed and leaned back.

"Alf! Put that sword back in the toy box and get dressed!" my mum yelled, her voice frantic. As usual. She slid the big box across the wooden floor over to Alfie, who shoved the sword back in. The box was stuffed with all his toys; his stuffed animals and his swords, and his nerfguns. A big box for a lot of toys - it was nearly the same size as him.

Then mum threw a pair of shorts and a graphic tee to him to change into.

We all were dressed in our pajamas, I realized. Except for mum; who was wearing a little floral dress that complimented her hourglass figure.

"You too, Alisha!"

Hastily, I threw on an American-flag tank and some black denim shorts, then shoved my feet into red, knee-high sneakers - an outfit I had prepared for today.

No, actually, they were the first things I pulled out of the suitcase.

"Come on!" my mum shouted, as two bulky men picked up the boxes and loaded them into a truck.

I kissed my hand and patted the floor, "Bye." I said softly.

We got in the taxi.

Then, in a flash, we were at the airport.

Next thing I knew, we were in London.

Just like that.