My Babysitters Are Idiots // One Direction [Book 1: Idiot Series]

Chapter One - People Change You

Mica.

"Wake up, love."

"Fuck off," I groaned before throwing a pillow in the general direction I heard my dad's voice; more than likely missing by a mile.

"C'mon, my lovely bastard," my father chuckled as he grabbed my wrist to yank me out of bed, laughing as he watched me lightly hit the floor yet never letting go of my arm.

We had a special relationship.

"Why?" I whined, sitting up and looking at him. I squinted at the light of the sun shining into my bedroom.

"I have to go and your babysitter is here," he told me, all glee gone from his voice and a disappointing look settling on his features.

I sat up right, leaning on my elbows and glaring up at him. "How long this time?"

"About a year," he sighed. Well at least it's better then last time.

My father reached out to me and I grabbed his hand, allowing him to help me up from the position on the floor he put me in. He yanked me forward with my hand clasped in his, wrapping the other one tightly around my neck before nuzzling his face in to my head.

"I love you, Mica. I'll see you soon."

He kissed the top of my head and took a step back, shooting a toothy grin in my direction.

"Love ya too, bye," I sighed.

I watched him turn and jog down the stairs, instantly hearing his voice as he reached the ground floor, along with other voices -- British voices -- accompanying him.

The door shut, meaning my dad was gone once again.

I sighed and made my way down the stairs, still in my jumper and pajama shorts with slipper boots.

Once at the bottom of the stairs I entered the sitting room. The first thing I noticed as entering the cozy room was five boys, all sat around.

"One Direction?" I mumbled, instantly recognizing the group.

And the five pop stars I couldn't stand turned and grinned; my morning was ruined.

"You must be Meeca," the curly haired boy beamed. You could tell he was attempting a quiff into his curls, but failed. Along with that, the mispronunciation of my name was a turn-off.

"It's Mica, okay? Mike-a!" I boomed, making sure my voice was heard throughout the group. The boy flinched ever so slightly at my risen voice, but didn't seem fazed. 

"Oh, sorry, Mica." He smiled even bigger.

"Mhm, and your names are?" I asked, crossing my arms and shifting from one foot to the other. They looked at me uncomfortably before my new acquaintance spoke.

"I'm Harry, that's Liam, Louis, Niall and that's Zayn." He helpfully pointed each boy out for me, and each boy smiled at me.

"Zayn," I said, catching his attention with a worried stare, "are you a Muslim?" I asked him. 

He bit his lip and looked down for a only a second, seeming fearful to answer. "Erm... Yeah, I am." He nodded shyly.

I nod. "Okay then. What're you guys doing here, exactly?"

"We're your babysitters!" Liam grinned.

"What?!" I scream, finally standing up right. "No! No the fuck you're not! There's not a chance I'm living with a fucking shitty, gay boy-band for months on end."

Louis dramatically placed his hand  over his heart. "Ouch, that hurt," he laughed.

"We're not gay," Harry chuckled, shaking his head, clearly taking no offence to my statement.