Miss Invisible? (One Direction Fanfic)

Chapter 3

Part 3

Charlie's P.O.V.

And live while we're young! Zayn belts out the last line to Live While We’re Young and the whole crowd, Mia and I included, goes nuts. You can feel the euphoria in the air, emanating from not only the crowd, but from the boys as well as they thank everyone and run off of the stage. The cheering, fangirling, crying, and screaming continues for another ten minutes after the boys have left. But I don’t blame the fans though. It definitely was a great concert!

After my little incident with the security guard and Harry winking at me (I am continuing to pinch myself to make sure that this is reality and not some twisted dream), the concert picked right back up. Mia and I sang to every song and danced until our feet got sore. I’m sure my glasses almost fell off at least five times. But as the end of the concert neared, multiple questions kept nagging me in the back of my mind. Why are we going backstage? Did I do something wrong? Was my singing and dancing so bad that I offended someone?

I snort to myself and erase that last thought out of my head, eliminating that option. Although my dancing is absolutely atrocious, I’m not sure that my singing is that horrible. I’m sure that if anyone, Mia would offend someone with her singing. I love her to death, but the girl can’t sing to save her life. Seriously. A cat whose vocal chords have been cut out and is dying could still sing better than her. She realizes this too, but she has never let it bother her and continues to sing louder than anyone else.

While the crowds start dispersing, Mia and I stay in our seats, earning us a few inquisitive looks from passing fan girls. We chat as we wait, snapping random pictures and posting some on Instagram and Facebook, one of which I changed to my profile picture. I absolutely love it too. Mia is doing what I like to call her “doe-eyed look”. It’s the look that she gives someone when she wants something, and most of the time the person is rendered powerless against it, myself included. In the picture, my glasses are pushed down to my nose and I am giving the oh so stereotypical duck-face. The one that almost every girl has a picture of.  However, where other girls do it because they believe it made them look more attractive, I did it purely for my entertainment. As the minutes ticked by, Mia’s body language got more spastic, and her voice has started to get slightly squeakier, showing her excitement and eagerness. I know my best friend, and she was dying to find out why we were going backstage. Quite frankly, I was too, but I am better at hiding it.

"Oh my god, oh my god!!!!" Mia said jumping up and down like a five year old in a candy store. "What if we get to meet One Direction?! I know that I wasn't the only one that saw Harry wink at you." Mia winked at me.

I could feel my face heating up, probably slowly turning tomato red in embarrassment. Mia was right, as per usual; and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t. Harry Styles winked at me. I know for a fact that it was me that he winked at, because he was looking me dead in the eyes, as if he were trying to stare into my soul.

But why? Out of all of the girls there, why did he choose to wink at me? There were probably millions of girls that would have killed to be in my position at that moment, including many of the girls that were there, judging from the scoffing and whispering that I heard after it had happened. As mortified as I was at the fact that I was the center of attention in that moment, I couldn’t keep a smile from creeping onto my face at that moment. And it remained there for the rest of the concert. When we looked at each other, I really felt something there. Or perhaps I was just delusional. Regardless, we were being called backstage. I bit the inside of my cheek in nervousness and anticipation.

"Perhaps." I shrug, attempting to hide the shakiness in my voice. "Mia, can you put my phone in your pocket? My jeans don't have any.” I ask.

"Sure." she said, smiling and slipping my phone into her pocket. As soon as she does, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and attempt not to notice the blush creeping back onto my face. It was the security guard that I nearly plowed over with my “dancing skills”.