Kiss Me Slowly (One Direction)

Hey, guys! This is Caroline. This was an idea I've had for a while, and I'm just now writing it. First story of this account! WOOT WOOT! This first one is short, but I like my prologues short, m'kay? M'kay. Enjoy.

Rated PG-13 just in case.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I miss Niall," I say to my mom while I help her do dishes. "He always made things fun around here."

"I know," My mom replies.

"I feel like he doesn't have time for us," I say sadly. "Like his career is more important than his family."

"Don't think like that," Mom scolds. "You know Niall loves his family very much. He's just very busy now..."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I guess. I wish he would come visit." I pause as I am struck with an amazing idea. "Or maybe I can go visit him!"

"What are you blabbing about now, Keely," Mom mutters.

"First of all, it's KAYLEY, Mom. I prefer to be called Kayley," I correct.

"I won't call you that," Mom says. "I like your name the way it is."

I roll my blue eyes. "Fine. But what I'm saying is that maybe I can go to England and surprise Niall with a visit!"

"Where would you stay?" Mom questions, setting a plate in a cabinet.

"Some of my old friends from elementary school live in England," I answer. "I could call them and ask."

"How would you know where Niall is?" Mom presses.

I dry my hands and whip out my phone. I scroll through my texts with my brother until a certain one comes up. I read it aloud, "Hey, Kay. Just thought I'd give you the address to the new house we got. It's--"

"I get it," Mom interrupts. "But, uh..." She hesitates.

I smirk at her and putt hands on my hips. "You just don't want me to go."

Mom frowns. "I don't want all my babies to leave me," She explains.

"I'm not leaving forever," I say.

"But what if you find a good job opening or something?" Mom asks. "And you stay in England for good?"

"Even if I did, I would always come visit," I say sympathetically. Mom stays silent. "Mom, I'm seventeen. I don't think you need to worry about me getting kidnapped or raped or something like that."

Mom shudders. "I never even thought of that."

"So can I go?" I ask hopefully.

Mom hesitates. "Okay. We'll go buy your plane ticket tomorrow."

"Yes!" I squeal. "Thank you so much, Mom!" I give her a big hug and run upstairs to my room to pack.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

"You can stay in the guest room," My friend Allyson tells me, leading me to a small room.

"Okay," I reply, dropping my bags on the bed.

"I'm so excited about you staying with us, Kay!" My other friend, Greta, says excitedly.

"Me, too!" I say. "This is going to be so awesome!"

Ally and Greta share a house together (their both 18) and have been ever since they moved out of their parents' houses. They were my best friends in 3rd grade, until Ally moved to England. Greta was still my best friend, but then she moved in 6th grade. Since the last I saw them, Ally became an author and Greta became an artist. They also developed British accents.

"This'll be like a sleepover every day!" Ally says.

"Gosh, by the time this is over, we're going to have so many inside jokes that we'll need a book to remember them all!" I joke.

"Let's get started on that, then!" Greta suggests. "Think of something funny, go!"

We all grow silent, deep in thought. After a bit, Ally blurts, "Turnips! ... With evil faces on them!" We let that sink in, then burst out laughing.

After we finish laughing, I say, "I think I should look for a job. I need to pull my own weight around here."

"Aw, you're fine, Kay," Greta tells me. "You don't have to."

"Nah, I want to!" I insist. "I'll just apply where I see the first 'help wanted' sign." Without waiting for an answer, I walk outside and down the streets of London.

After a bit of searching, the first 'help wanted' sign I see is at a radio station building. I shrug and go inside.  I walk up to the front desk. "Hi, I'm here about the sign on the door outside," I say. "I want to apply for... the job."

The receptionist lady peers at me over her glasses. "Sweetie, do you even know what the job is?"

I slump my shoulders. "No. But I really need a job."

The receptionist sighs. "You can apply, I guess. The job is to be a radio host. You'll have to pick songs to play and do interviews with people."

"Alright!" I say cheerfully. "Sign me up!"

The receptionist holds down a button in the telephone and speaks into it, staring at me the whole time. "Mr. Langston, there's someone who wants to apply for the radio host job."

And that, my friends, was the start of Lucky H Radio.