Walking in the Wind One Direction EDITING

2. X Factor

The car ride to the studio was horrendous. My nerves were unraveling with every passing mile, and Jade's endless "Are we there yet?" made me rethink whether she was actually 15 or just pretending to be a hyperactive five-year-old.

By the time my stepdad dropped us off and wished us luck, I was seriously considering hopping back into the car and spending the day at his office instead. Sure, filing paperwork would be boring, but at least I wouldn't be dealing with this. Still, there was a part of me—a tiny, adventurous part—that thought this might actually be funny. Watching strangers butcher songs in front of Simon Cowell? That's prime entertainment.

I still don't quite understand what's happening, it seems like a dream. But if this is a dream better make it fun right? And if this is a dream who cares if I got up on a stage and sang a song?

While my mom and Jade disappeared into the overcrowded bathroom to warm up her voice (whatever that meant), I wandered into the waiting room, looking for an escape from the headache-inducing cacophony of off-key warmups and nervous chatter. I plopped down in one of the plastic chairs and unwrapped my granola bar, my eyes drifting to the screen showing live auditions.

The guy on stage was completely butchering a high note, and I couldn't help but snort. The man sitting a few seats ahead of me shook his head in disapproval, but I just kept munching.

I think this is going to be a long day...

As I turned my head to glance at the bathroom door, still waiting for my mom and Jade to reappear, the crowd on the screen erupted in applause. A new contestant was stepping up to the mic.

They must be having some fun in there. I roll my eyes.

The crowd on screen cheers, which must mean someone will have to face their worst nightmare, Simon Cowell.

"Nice to meet you what's your name?" Simon asks as I reach down to grab my granola bar wrapper off the floor. My hand froze mid-reach for the wrapper. "Uh Im Harry Styles."

I blinked. The wrapper slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor as my stomach flipped.

Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?

"No way," I whispered, scrambling out of my seat to get closer to the screen.

"Uh, I work in a bakery," Harry said shyly, his voice somehow both nervous and charming.

I stared at the TV in disbelief. Baby-faced Harry. Fresh, wide-eyed, and standing on the brink of history.

This has gotta be a fucking dream right. This can't be happening?

Baby Harry.. which is weird because Jade aged with me, but others don't seem to have done that? What a weird reality warp is this.

My brain kicks into overdrive. If Harry was auditioning, then the rest of One Direction couldn't be far behind.

My heart races as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn't just some weird timeline—I was in their timeline. Their origin story. And if I was here, there was no way I was walking out of this studio without meeting at least one of them.

What the hell is this my chance to meet one direction before they even become one direction?!

I scan the crowded room, my pulse pounding in my ears, hoping to see a familiar face. Could one of them be sitting nearby, waiting for their turn? The thought made me almost giddy.

But as I search, my excitement morphs into something closer to panic. What if I missed my chance? What if they'd already left? I started moving faster, weaving through the throngs of hopefuls, looking desperately for a familiar face.

And then I collided with someone.

Hard.

The impact sent me stumbling, and I instinctively grabbed his arm to steady myself. Warm liquid splashed across my jeans, and I glanced down to see tea dripping onto the floor.

Shit. "Shit." I muttered, realizing I'd just wrecked someone's drink. I guess I didn't realize he was holding a cup in his hand.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" a voice said, tinged with genuine concern.

That voice. That voice I would recognize anywhere.

"I—uh—no, it's my fault!" I stammered, words tripping over themselves as he knelt down to blot the tea from my jeans with a napkin.

"Here, let me clean that up for you," he said, his voice kind and gentle, his cheeks a little pink.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't see you coming there." He looks up. And I'm staring right into the big brown eyes of Liam Payne.

"No no no no no, this is totally my fault." I say, "Let me buy you a new cup of tea."