It's Gotta Be You (One Direction Mini Fic)

Sweet Dreams

         Most people look forward to Saturday mornings. The long sleeps, the big breakfasts. Saturdays probably couldn’t get any better. Probably.

 

            I awoke from my slumber, rising from my bed like a mummy from his sarcophagus. Stumbling across clothes and books that littered the floor, I gradually made my way to the kitchen. The air was flooded with the captivating scent of sizzling bacon, salty eggs and fried hash browns.

            “Good morning darling mother and how are you today?” I spoke in a false English accent while hugging my mom from behind.

            With a roll of her eyes, she replied “Brooke called, wants you to call her back.”

            I leapt dramatically to the phone that hung on the wall. “I’m doing just fine as well, thanks for asking.”

            Without hesitation, I dialed my cousin’s number, as familiar to me as my own. Brooke answered on the second ring.

            “Up before noon I see. What’s the occasion?” she joked.

            “Oh, you’re hilarious,” I replied sarcastically. “Now, would you mind telling me why I needed to call, or can I move on to my bacon?”

            A sigh sounded through the phone. “Right. Next Saturday is a very significant day. Do you know why?”

            “No, I don’t, actually. Enlighten me,” I replied.

            “Next Saturday is the last Canadian show of One Direction’s world tour,” Brooke stated matter-of-factly. “In Toronto.”

            Suddenly, understanding washed over me, like a light had been switched on in my mind. “Ah, I see. You need a ride.”

            “And someone to go with. I’m really not into bringing my mom to my husbands’ concert,” she admitted.

            I glanced around to see my mom’s quizzical look. “Text me details, I’m too hungry to talk to you anymore.”

            My mom’s eyes followed me as I  crossed the room to hang up the phone. “What was that about?”

            I slumped onto a stool on the opposite side of the counter. “Apparently I’m driving Brooke to a One Direction concert in Toronto this Saturday.”

            My mom’s face went blank as she contemplated what I just said. “Okay, but you’re taking Chase’s car.”

            I laughed sarcastically as I imagined driving my brother’s rusty jeep.

            “I’m serious,” my mother said sternly.

            My jaw dropped with a groan as I scooped a handful of bacon in my fist on my way to the basement. I descended the stairs loudly, humming tunelessly as I went. Rolling over the back of the big blue couch in the middle of the pale yellow room, I snatched the remote and turned on the television.

            A stupid soap opera played pointlessly in the background as I thought about One Direction. I didn’t know much about them, but as I bound my hair in a knot at the back of my head, random facts about the band surfaced in my mind.

            “Louis and Harry have this epic bromance going on,” I remember Brooke saying. “Niall is the Irish one, Zayn is the one who should never wear a shirt, and Liam is the quite possibly the most attractive man on the face of the Earth.”

            I giggled at the memory. Brooke had shoved photos of each boy in my face as she spoke their name, but I’d hardly paid attention. Brooke had been my best friend for years, but sometimes I just had to tune her to avoid chopping her head off.

            Although I don’t remember each band member distinctly, the image of a tall, slim brunette with stunning eyes stuck in my head, like he was painted on the inside of my eyelids. He looked alarmingly familiar, and i can't put my finger on why.

            Inhaling my last piece of bacon, I wiped my hands on my sweat pants and lay back on the soft blue cushions. My eyelids felt heavy and I let them fall closed, plunging me into sweet dreams of this “One Direction.”

 

            A pair of strong arms slid around my delicate hips from behind, sending a variety of chills and shivers up my spine. A mess of curly brown hairs was just barely visible from the corner of my eye. The arms gently twirled me around, making me eye to eye with a beautiful green-eyed boy, a dazzling cheeky smile painted on his face.

            “Hey gorgeous,” he spoke, his British accent swimming mesmerizingly through my ears. I laughed sweetly in return.

            “Well hello,” I bit my lip. “To whom do I owe this pleasure?” I chuckled.

            “The guy of your dreams,” he winked. “But you can call me—”

 

            The sound of a door slamming against a wall from being opened too forcefully shook me awake in an abrupt fashion. A horrendous, screeching melody  clashed with Brooke’s thundering footsteps as she stomped down the stairs, singing a song I’ve never heard.

            A grin took up nearly half her face as she clambered over the back of the sofa to join me. She didn’t hesitate before she launched into another one of her fangirl stories. “Guess whose new song was leaked today? Yup; One Direction. It’s pretty great. I heard a rumour they’re performing it this weekend. Probably not though, it’s not even supposed to be released yet. Not that I’m complaining or anything—”

            “Hey Brooke, how you doing?” I interrupted.

            She swept her blonde hair from her face before laughing in spite of herself. “Well, I’m doing pretty amazing today, thanks for asking.”

            “So,” I began. “This One Direction band seems pretty good.” I attempted to start a conversation. It worked.

            “Pretty good is the understatement of the century,” Brooke declared. “These boys are magnificent, with the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard in my life. They’re like, the next Beatles, minus the instruments.”

            I nearly choked on the breath I was taking and laughed. “The next Beatles? That’s not even possible. That’s a pretty risky step you’re taking, comparing some boy band to the Beatles.”

            Brooke stared at me with a look that said, Remind me why I like you again? She laughed and shook her head. “Okay, maybe not quite that good, but they’re almost there.”

            I shook my head in disbelief, but a flare of interest suddenly ignited in my heart. Almost as good as the Beatles? This concert is starting to sound a lot more interesting.

            “Honestly, if you closed your eyes and just listened to their voices, they’d sound just as good as your precious Paul McCartney,” Brooke explained determinedly.

            Glancing over at the Beatles poster on the wall, I tried to imagine five boys as talented as the four men I’d idolized since the first time my father played me one of their records when I was four. I couldn’t do it, but I figured I’d give them a shot. “Okay, but if you’re wrong you own me a root beer.”