Hey peeps. Update from summer '12 hehe. I apologize-I'm not the "focused" type of person; I get off track writing easily. However, if I get reviews, I think I would be more motivated to actually craft. Thus, REVIEW! Set my passion on fire! **Note: New themes for my fanfics will include Tony Stark from the Iron Man movies! Stay tuned if you desire to read some action-packed, romance based on him and Pepper Potts. *Pepperony Ship* Coming Soon.
For now, the continuation of Gotta Be You:
CHAPTER THREE
Amelia's POV
Dressed a wee bit stylish and packed with hidden ecstasy, I told myself to stay calm as I approached Yaourt Crémeux, a French-inspired frozen delights store advertised in the papers. In total contraire, you could see the obsessed fangirling of Victoria—a jazzy One D poster was held in accompaniment to her Louis Tomlinson-imprinted t-shirt.
"What took you so long?!" She exclaimed.
"The event starts in an hour—I don't think I'm late, am I?" I struggled to spew out the words, tight in her embrace.
"Well, the earlier the better!" My fanatical bestie shrieked while I gave her a simple nod. You could say my excitement died off a little; my chance of dating one of the enthralling boys was one-in- a-million. I can't even capture the attention of at least one guy at school, let alone One Direction. I scoffed as I realized dreams were to remain as dreams. "Eh, why so sullen? Where's the excitement?"
I snapped out of my deep thoughts, "Whatcha' talking about girlfriend? Of course I'm elated!" brightening up a little—the meet and greet meant a lot to Victoria, surely I didn't want to bring down the mood.
"Hmm, anyways shall we get some fro-yo?"
"Of course, my dear! Food is the priority!" We came into consensus, purchasing some creamy hazelnut dessert topped with white chocolate shavings. Smiling (with mouths embarrassingly full) we followed the sound of screeching girls, reaching the area where posters of the endorsing radio station were hung along with the familiar words: One Direction Autograph Session. My fellow crazy pal joined the shrieking (with her extra spin of bawling) while I simply enjoyed the frozen yogurt, making sure every bit was not to be wasted.
Soon after, surprisingly I wasn't as calm as I thought I was going to be; the five vedettes appeared before our eyes and man was the glass about to shatter! My pulse beat faster as steaming blood sent a rush of anticipation into my veins. My future holds the opportunity to touch their hands—baby soft hands (I hope)—and perhaps even thrust myself into their arms! I dazed off into my fantasies, inept and feeling the opposite of sober.
"Aha! And for a second I thought your obsession had vanished!" Victoria gazed in amazement.
"Wrong! Vic, pinch me already will ya?!"
"It's all true, all true I tell you," she wiped a tear of gladness, "Mal, we're in the same building as One D, we're breathing the same air as them. Can you believe it?"
Sobbing tears of desperation and lust, I combed through my somewhat disheveled dark brown hair with my fingers, prepping myself for my first encounter with my "future husbands". Peering from behind other fangirls' backs, the boys fell into my sight as I glanced with disbelief. A few steps closer…
"How dee do, what's your name sweetums?" the blondish-brunette crossed his burly arms and looked into my eyes.
"Howdy Niall, Amelia's the name, sir!" I somehow managed to avoid the incoming stutter.
Slightly giggling, he grasped his sleek pen and fulfilled my request of signing my Live While We're Young album. Before proceeding on to Harry, the Irish star winked at me cheekily and made a call-me gesture, much to my awe. I turned my head back once more to see if I was hallucinating, and sadly nodded upon the observance of him tending to another fanatic. To him—in fact, in every celebrity's eyes—I was just another crazed fan; nothing outstanding. Just a dream eh? Well, at least he called me "sweetums". Better than nothing.
Niall's POV
The alluring brunette-haired figure surpassed me, leaving a trail of scented l'eau de toilette—the sweet aroma of vanilla enticed me to notice her furthermore.
She wasn't like the others; her giggle was not in the least bit annoying, and her smiling pouty lips begged me for attention, as if wanting to be kissed. Amelia was the name.
Usually fans would shrug away at the sound of my "how dee dos", leaving an impression that my acts were queer…that I was queer. Therefore, the reply of "howdy" was quite the unusual way to respond.
Most girls preferred Harry of all, while I was the detested. Technically the curly-haired, deep-voice Brit was the leader of this whole crazed fandom, or at least management thought. I could just feel my self-esteem decease as my Twitter feed was abundant with a plethora of "Ew, how ugly are his teeth," and "Damn, he shouldn't even deserve to be in the band." I pretend the brash comments are like nothing, but in reality they pierce my happiness, destructing my confidence into shreds.
I've been longing for someone who doesn't just see me as a celebrity, but as a boy simply longing for an understanding companion. Scribbling down my cellphone number onto her LWWY album, I tried my best to flirt—I guessed a "call-me gesture" would work?—however she slipped away into the crowd, whereas I thought in deep dazes, all in hopes of pursuing my spontaneous love interest.
Amelia's POV
After passing by the other four members of the infamous band, I flipped over my album to see numbers transcribed on the backside with a faint heart drawing. I rubbed my eyes with skepticism and blinked several times for a quick check with reality, but somehow the black and red markings still remained.
"I think my heart stopped for a moment!" Victoria rushed over, nudging me, "So, how was your experience? Wild, exuberant, fantastic? And don't pretend like nothing happened—your 'laidback' personality today is a huge joke!" Evidently, tears of joy surging down my ruddy cheeks. "Aha, I knew the sparks would fly," she chuckled.
"Fine, I'll admit alright? Today was rather…" I anticipated for a moment, pondering whether or not I should tell her about my Niall Horan situation. "Rather extravagant." I decided to keep it concealed until I actually started a surreal relationship with the cutie. Imagine how humiliated I would be if my hopes turned out false. Perhaps he's simply toying with my heart, with my imagination. Twiddling with my thumbs, I inserted the numbers into my smartphone after tumbling out of trance, much to Vic's staring doubt about my tranquil "after-effects"—quite the adverse of a stereotypical directioner.
Not beta'd-sorry if any petty little mistakes irritate you. REVIEW, por favor y gracias!
