Meant To Be

She Looks So Perfect

girl, you took me by surprise

one look and I was hooked on you 

didn't know that I was looking till I found what I was looking for 

(till I found you) 

- Countdown, from FOUR's second album, Falling Asleep Without You 

There are some days that you just know are going to suck, from the very first moment you wake up. Maybe your alarm didn't go off. Maybe you couldn't find your favourite shirt. Maybe the weather was the exact opposite of what you wanted it to be.

Or maybe some asshole cut the line ahead of you at Starbucks, right when you were about to order your much-needed coffee.

I'm about to say something to the lanky, blond-haired guy in front of me, but it's too late - he's already ordered and moved to the side, and by the looks of it, is chatting up the - currently blushing - Starbucks barista. From what I can see of his side profile, he's jaw-droppingly gorgeous. I silently fume. He probably uses his looks to get away with things all the time, while the rest of us mere mortals have to contend with waiting for our coffee and - thanks to him - probably being late for class.

Not the impression I wanted to make at the start of term, especially since the last year at university went so well.

I decide not to make a scene, and order quickly, rattling off my usual. By the time I've obtained my drink and am warming my hands on the cup, the boy is gone, out into the rain.

Good riddance, I think, annoyance still bubbling up inside me. But seriously - some people can just be jerks. Entitled, handsome jerks.

And all it takes is one jerk to entirely ruin a day.

********

Classes are a blur - it's the first week, so it's a lot of writing down teacher's names and emails and cramming syllabus dates into my head. I don't have any classes with any of my friends, and I don't think I remember a single name of anyone who introduced themselves to me. It'll take a few weeks, at least - I'm terrible with names, and when I only see someone once or twice a week? Even if we sit beside each other, it's a lost cause for me.

Hey, no one's perfect. And I'm working on it.

It's a short walk from the campus to the house I rent with four other girls - Maggie, Anya, Sophie, and Darya. It's a bit run down and Maggie is sure it's haunted - she was planning to hold a seance on halloween last year, before I put my foot down and said that even if it was haunted, I wasn't going to be the person who dies in the first five minutes of a Supernatural episode - but it's ours, and rent is about as reasonable as you could expect. Which means it's still exorbitant, but hey. We're working with what we've got, and amazingly, I actually like all of my roommates.

Maggie, Anya, and I met in a first year English class, and the three of us hit it off immediately. We were all in awful, temporary living situations, and started looking for a place immediately. It took us a while, but when we stumbled across this house we knew it was perfect. It was five bedrooms, though, and we struggled to find another girl, what with it being so late in the semester at that point. None of us really wanted to room with a boy - we just felt more comfortable with it being us girls. The whole dynamic would be shifted.

Then we found Darya, who needed to move out of her dorm after transitioning. We met for coffee, and she was the perfect fit - had us all snorting coffee out of our noses in the first five minutes.

And then there we were. The five of us.

I love it. More than I thought I could. These girls are what keep me sane, and believe me, my sanity is hanging by a thread on good days.

I twist my key in the lock and shove the always finicky door open with my shoulder, calling out to see if anyone's home. When I don't receive a response, I dump my bag in the entranceway and head for my room.

I'm exhausted, and no one else is home. It's the perfect time for a long, hot shower.

It's something about the hot water pouring down, drowning out the rest of the world, that just brings the best ideas. I've got stories flitting through my brain the whole time I'm standing under the water, which is great, because I've got so many assignments this year.

Good ideas are best when you actually have places to use them.

I hop out of the shower and jot some of the best ones down in the notes app of my phone, drying off my short hair and wrapping my towel around myself.

My bare feet are cold against the wooden floors as I make my way down the hallway to my room, humming absentmindedly to myself.

I shut the door behind me and go to drop my towel, before a shocked cry of "what the - " stops me.

I spin around, making panicked eye contact with the boy standing in my room before grabbing at my towel. "What the fuck?" I cry, overlapping his, "what are you doing?"

"This is MY ROOM," I shout defensively, arms still clutched over my chest. The boy has turned halfway around and has a hand covering his eyes.

"I know that now! Do you always just - walk around naked?"

"I thought I was alone!" I yell. "I - how did you even get in here?"

"The door wasn't locked!" he says. "I didn't think you'd be naked!"

"That - what - I don't - " I sputter. He's offered no valid explanation for why he's here. For why there is a boy, in my room, while I'm in nothing but a towel.

Some of the initial shock and panic clears from my mind and I stare at his side profile. "Wait a second..." I say slowly, something pinging in the back of my mind. "I know you from somewhere."

He opens his eyes, gaze firmly fixed on the far wall, and rubs sheepishly at his face. "Oh, uh - I'm Holland Bellamy, from - "

I speak at the same time as him, cutting him off. "You're the asshole who cut ahead of me at Starbucks!"

His mouth falls open. "What?"

It's at that moment that his words sink in, and I actually step backwards in shock, nearly dropping my towel. "Wait, Holland Bellamy? As in, Four, Holland Bellamy?"

A blush colours his cheeks, and there's silence as the pieces start to fit together in my mind. The british accent. How he'd seemed to be in such a rush this morning. I'd wondered why the coffee shop had been so packed. I'm guessing the reason was standing right in front of me.

"No way," I say, shock colouring my words.

Everyone knows Four. And I mean everyone. They're the biggest boyband since ever. They're the hottest thing in the world right now.

Holland Bellamy. Noah James. Ever Ryland. Will Orson. I mean they - I don't know if I have words for how famous they are. I think Maggie would actually faint if she was here. There would be screaming and crying, at least. And I think Anya might actually have to be hospitalized.

Emmet Brown, from my history class last year, skipped the final to go to one of their concerts. He flew to Toronto.

And Holland freaking Bellamy is in my room while I stand here like an idiot in a towel.

I firmly take a deep breath and pull myself together.

"I would like a full explanation of what you are doing here," I say, drawing myself up. "But first, do you think you could wait in the hall while I get changed?" His posture stiffens, and I say, "There's no one else in the house. That's why I was in my towel."

Maggie and Anya are in class, Soph is on (another) date with Callie and Darya is at work.

"Of course," he says, moving blindly towards the door while trying not to look at me. "Sorry. Again. I'll - I'll explain everything, I promise."

I don't say anything to that. He better have a damn good explanation, or I will be calling the police, super-famous-boyband member or not.

As soon as he closes the door, I sink down on my bed and let out a deep breath.

Holland freaking Bellamy.