Bittersweet Serendipity

Chapter 1 - Sentiments and Shitheads

[A/N: Chapter 1 has been made private, and I don't know how it happened or how to retrieve it back to public, so I'm reposting it again, for the sake of new readers! Sorry for the inconvenience, you guys! :( ]

Today is September 14.

I awake with a jolt and sit straight, upright, on my bed. I check the alarm clock sitting on my side table, ticking very annoyingly and obnoxiously with every second that passes; five-thirty in the morning, it reads. I woke up two hours before I usually do. Excitement travels through my nerves, preventing me from lying back down, even though the creases from where I slept in haunt me and the soft pillows, bed, and duvet set call unto me, beckoning me to stay buried underneath their coziness.

Because today is the day I meet The Wanted.

The memories I've had, watching them through their Youtube videos, keep flooding back to me, how I've loved them and their mental antics, how they leave me knackered and sleep-deprived at night but I'd spend every single night watching them hopelessly on my computer screen anyway. The fact that I'm actually going to watch them live hasn't really sunk into my brain yet. I'm actually going to meet them, too. See, I won this meet-and-greet pass in a contest two weeks before the concert day. And, believe it or not, I'm actually going to touch them -- real, live people -- and literally breathe the same air as them. This is not me watching them through video-graphical presentations, nor am I just looking at their photos, or listening to their voices through my iPod. No. These are live human beings I'm actually going to interact with.

I roll off my bed, literally speechless at the overwhelming turn of events, turn the computer on, and phone my friend, Sadie, who'll be joining me in the concert itself and the meet-and-greet (she's more privileged so she bought hers), at the very, very front of the stage.

Me: "Hey, Sades. It's concert day, can you believe?!"

Sadie: "God, no. No. No, I really can't. Do you have the signs ready?"

She's talking about the signs I had made, addressed to (in a way) insult Jay and Nathan. One has a face of Frankie Sandford on it, and the other says, 'Lost Children Meeting Place.' We're not really far from the stage, but we hope we get noticed.

Me: "'Course. You think I'd forget? This is the best night of our lives we're talking about. Do we meet them in the hotel, too, later?"

Sadie: "Yeah, my dad approved. He talked your parents into it. They said yes, too!"

Me: "Thank God. I love you loads, Sades. What time are you fetching me to get there?"

Sadie: "Well, they'll be around by lunch, so about ten-thirty. What are you up so early for, anyway? We don't have school, but you woke up before seven-thirty, Caleigh. Out of excitement?"

Me: "Guess so. Why else would I wake up that early? My body clock knows what's happening today, that's for sure. It's unnerving too, trust me. Did I wake you up or...?"

Sadie: "Oh, no. I was a few minutes up before you called. My body clock knows it, too. Don't worry; I'm as excited as you are!"

She squeals. I squeal. We both squeal again.

Me: "Okay, enough with the squealing. So, I need to maybe get kisses, most preferably on the lips, but the cheek would do. I have to get kisses from Nath and Tom though."

Sadie: "And Jay."

Me: "Eurgh, no. Well, not like I have a problem with it, but no, I hate Jay."

Sadie: "You only hate him because he's so perfect and flawless and stupid and awkward, and you didn't expect that you'd love him like how you love Tom and Nathan."

Me: "Touché. I hate you, too; you know me too well. Why are you even pushing me towards him? I thought you liked him!"

Sadie: "I do. And you do, too. Just don't steal him from me because he's mine."

Me: "Of course I won't." [snickers] "It's not like we - I -- actually have a chance with them."

Sadie: "True, I feel you. So, ten-thirty then. Bye."

Me: "Alright, yeah. Bye."

And we hang up. I log on to Twitter and Tumblr, tweet and post that I'm excited and anxious to watch their show today, reblog a few The Wanted posts (like I usually do), fangirl in my pre-concert state, then blast my speakers out to their first album. Behind Bars Tour, here I come.

I step out of my flat, dressed up and waiting for Sadie to arrive and take us to the hotel The Wanted's staying in, but instead I see my boyfriend, Mason, standing outside with a cigarette pack in one hand and smoking with the other. The usual. "Hey, babe," he greets, muffled by the cigarette between his lips. "I was just waiting for you. Where are you going?" His eyebrow creeps up his forehead in suspicion as he asks me.

"I'm going to The Wanted's concert, remember?" I say, annoyed. "I told you I was going with Sadie."

Up into our cul-de-sac, I see Sadie's silver Porsche getting nearer and nearer on the driveway. She honks at and rolls down her windows. "Oi, you two lovebirds, cut that out. Cales, come on," she calls.

"And there she is!" I smile. I do one last check on my hair, making sure my curls are intact and properly arranged, straightened my shirt, and started to walk towards the car.

"No, you're not going anywhere," he warns sternly. "You're not going to that concert." He blocks the doorway with his body, obstructing my path. He throws his used cigarette squarely into the trashbin about three feet away. In the background, I hear Sadie honking the horn harder and louder as if forcing me to join her in the car right on cue.

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. "And why the hell not?"

"Because," he says through his gritted teeth, "I said so."

I roll my eyes. "I've had the ticket and the meet-and-greet pass almost more than two weeks ago. I can't not go. Besides, you don't own my life. You're not the boss of me, Mason. You don't control me. Now if you'll excuse me." I push past him, shoving him slightly to get him away from the door, and I run to Sadie's car before Mason could grab hold of my wrist to stop me.

"What was that all about?" Sadie asks as I opened her car door and rode shotgun. I close the door with a bang and click the seat belt secured.

"I don't know," I say, trying to sound nonchalant, when really, my vision is blurred with a film of tears. I don't understand why Mason's always like that. "The usual. Being possessive again, I guess." A tear trickles down the side of my face, the side that Sadie doesn't see. I wipe it off and think, Ah, what the hell, today is my day. There's no use crying over Mason because I am going to see five amazing lads who mean the world to me, who mean to me more than Mason ever will. "So, are we going now?" I ask, flashing my best friend a concealing smile, though it's one that said, "I don't want to talk about it anymore," but not in a rude way. She knows I don't like talking about depressing things when my mood is mostly excited.

She drives fast to get off our cul-de-sac, as far away from Mason as possible. "Forget that motherfucker and let's you and me party with The Wanted!" she screams as the wheels screech and the engine revs louder, tossing a cloud of dirt into the sidewalk. Words of encouragement -- always amazing to hear from Sadie. She turns on the radio and her stereo blares with the sound of the DJ saying, "...top 1 in iTunes, here's The Wanted with 'All Time Low'." Sadie and I match gazes, one word being said in sync: "Perfect."