Our Moments (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter Three: Sydney Weary

"Sydney!" My friend yelled from behind me. I sighed, turning on my heel toward her, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. Her green eyes were wide with excitement and her red curls flew behind her, her face red and blotchy from the running. I sighed, waiting impatiently.

"You're not going to believe what I just heard!" She sputtered out through the heavy gasps. The hallway we were standing in was slowly emptying as everyone went home for the day. She finally caught her breath but my eyes were wandering around, me waving to everyone as they passed, a fake grin plastered on my face. "Can you believe it? They're in town!"

My eyes flickered back to her. "Who?"

"One Direction, of course!" I raised an eyebrow.

"I know you like them Ginny, but I don't. So I honestly don't care."

"But, Sydney! They're staying at the Hilton and I was just hoping..." She trailed off, eyes moving to the floor. I had known they were staying there. My mom owned the place. I had to work for her. Of course I knew. But honestly I didn't give one shit about them. I had enough drama in my life. Plus, I didn't like their music or their personalities. I knew that would be proved as soon as I got to work. Where I would have to take care of their every need. Just as it had been with the other celebrities.

"Look, I'm not introducing you to them. My mom would never let me anyway. Plus I really don't want to meet them myself." I saw the disappointment flood her face and instantly felt bad. "But... I could probably get you their autographs."

A grin spread across her face. "Really? Oh my gosh, I love you so much right now!" She made a high pitched squeaking noise and ran off down the hall. I sighed, turning back to the front doors and slowly made my way to them. I was dreading the point when I would have to pull up in front of one of my mom's many hotels. I was dreading being treated like servant from the millionth celebrity. They say that the articles and paparazzi make them out to be worse than they actually are but in my experience every magazine was right. They were too stuck up to care about anyone but themselves.

I pushed the large doors open, sunlight streaming down on me. There were students milling around the lawn, too lazy to go home or work. I closed my eyes letting the warm light heat up my skin, before opening them again and making my way to the parking lot, waving to everyone as I passed.

In school, I was the kind of girl who was friends with everyone yet had no close friends. I was too scared. Especially with my medical history. I could easily drop dead at any moment and I didn't want anyone to feel pain and grief on my account so I kept to myself most times. The closest I ever got to anyone was Ginny and that stopped as soon as I found out she was into One Direction.

By the time I got to the car, it was three fifteen. I would most likely be late, judging by the slow line of traffic leaving the gates. I sighed, pulling out and preparing myself for the yelling I was bound to receive from Mom.

The traffic slowly snaked its way through the parking lot and five minutes later I was out, car shooting down the road maybe just a bit too fast. I was stressing, tapping my free foot against the floorboard impatiently to the beat of nothing. I decided I needed music. As soon as I turned the radio up though, I instantly regretted it.

"So get out, get out, get out of my head..." The song blasted through the car, making me groan loudly. One Direction. Of course. The band I was already late to meet up with had to stress me out more. I clicked it off, overwhelming silence filling the car again. My eyes trailed back to the road, sun reflecting off of the gravel in near blinding rays. It was three thirty exactly and I could see the large hotel just minutes away.

I stepped on the gas, shooting to the parking lot where I could see a group of boys hopping out of a large RV. Their tour bus. I pulled the car to a stop and practically hopped over the backseat, slipping on my black slacks and taking off my shirt, throwing the button up on. I hopped out trying to button it up right, maybe showing a bit too much cleavage off to the boys that had somehow made their way toward me without my realization.