you and me got a whole lot of history [1D]

Chapter Three- "i wanna save you tonight"

It was freezing outside now that the sun was down. I crossed my arms to conserve body heat, trying to calm my shivering. The cold air was stinging my nostrils and throat.

"The van would have been really nice right now," I said, my teeth chattering. "Can't help but think of those heated seats."

"But could heated seats beat this?" he said, gesturing to the streets.

Harry had a point. There was a certain beauty in the cold night, a sort of intimacy. The hazy, orange glow of the streetlamps, people's breath foggy in the air, the couples walking arm in arm to warm each other up.

I paused for a moment. "Yes. Yes they could. Because we could see all this from our heated seats inside the van," I said with a laugh.

"Anyway," he said, chuckling, "there's something I wanted to ask you last night-"

"Hang on," I said, interrupting him. I had noticed a young girl hanging out the window of a passing car, screaming and pointing at us. This caused people to look at us, really look at us.

And recognize us.

Whispers and gasps and squeals started to follow us; Harry and I looked at each other, our eyes full of dread. We were alone out here, no Paul to keep the fans back. We were on our own. Our pace quickened, praying to avoid gathering a massive crowd.

The first camera shutter clicked, the flash blinding.

"Oh, no," I groaned. I bent my head even lower, making sure my sunglasses were well on my face. Harry did the same. A chorus of camera shutters arose, the shouts followed.

"Over here!"

"Look at me!"

"Roxie!"

"Harry!"

Against our wishes, people started to congregate around us, pushing too close. We could barely move through the packed crowd. I started to feel a little claustrophobic, unable to see where I was walking. The worst part was that it was all adults. The adult "fans" were infinitely worse than the little girls. The younger fans actually understood respect and personal space; we were their idols. To the adults, we were nothing but a photo op.

"Out of the way, please," Harry said, resignation in his voice. He was clearly tired of this, and so was I.

No one listened. I was bumping shoulders with people, just trying to get where I needed to go. Suddenly, I felt people start grabbing at my hair and jacket, trying to get a piece of me to take home and show off to their friends.

A hand then deliberately brushed against my chest.

That was it.

"Hey!" I shouted, earning a brief, surprised silence from the crowd. "Back off!"

I felt Harry grab my hand and start leading me through the crowd. They actually moved out of the way for him. Why am I surprised? I kept my eyes forward as I followed along. A burning feeling started to tumble in my gut, and I could feel my face start to grow red; with anger or embarrassment, I wasn't sure. Maybe both. I wish that was the first time someone had touched me in a crowd. And I knew it wouldn't be the last.

It took us much longer to get to the stadium than it should have. We were tired, irritated, and foodless. It was about 6:50; sound check started in 10 minutes. Harry and I walked back to the green room to meet Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn.

"Oooh," Liam cringed, seeing our dishevelled appearances.

"Ambush?" Niall asked, lounging on the couch.