Destiny Awaits: A One Direction Fan Fiction [On Hold]

Chapter 3- I Gotta Feeling

Chapter 3

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I scurried across the busy Los Angeles street in a daze. A mixture of euphoria coming from the joy I felt of being able to see the boys so soon, as well as the pride I felt from being able to walk in my pumps radiated from me. There were so many girls lined up watching the ongoing orange carpet that was going on at the main stage entrance. Because I was a ticket holder, I had to come through the public entrance. Even here, hundreds of girls, some that had camped out, lined the streets, proudly wearing their homemade tshirts and sporting cute posters, showing pride in their various favourites. I had to applaud them; tired, hungry, but extremely energetic, these girls were willing to line up at a different entrance in hope of getting a glimpse of their idols. Their dedication moved me. I sent a prayer above, asking for these girls to someday have their dreams fulfilled like mine.

I entered the foyer of the stadium, and even here I was impressed. The polished silver doors, smooth and cool against my skin, were flawless. Like the boys. The floor was gleaming, a dark stone, most likely marble, covered the area until it joined the doors into the stadium. A creamy vanilla colored tile, just as shiny, covered the walls in a cascading pattern. Along the front of the building, large glass windows were plastered with posters advertising the KCAs. On the windowsills sat beautiful sunset orange orchids set in lime green vases. The colors of the show. Even the uniforms of the security and various other staff looked polished and crisp, orange handkerchiefs of their suit pockets. I felt so out of place in this perfect place, myself, about as imperfect as you could get. Pushing this to the back of my mind, I focused on the boys. My boys would be in the room I was about to enter. I checked my watch. 6:35. I could barely contain my emotions as I entered the main stadium.

My mouth automatically created a round "o" in awe of the sheer size of the room. Thousands of seats lined the walls, reminding me of the seating found in my local hockey rink. They were wooden bleachers, stacked so that each row had a view of the stage that dominated the end of the room. Pipe staircases connected them, and these stairs were already alive with traffic. More cushy seats were placed row upon row in the center of the space. These were padded auditorium style seats, dark red in color and upholstered in a rough cotton material. A dark, durable carpet covered the floor, which sloped towards the huge stage which protruded from the back wall. The ceiling was twinkling with hundreds of lights, like stars shining in the night. Three distinct sections, where kids would see the stage as well as get "slimed" from, were roped off in neon green ribbons. Each row had a slim, silver number. All I was looking for was a 1, and I knew exactly where to find it.

The grandstand seating was filling up fast, bodies moving in every direction. The mixture of the colors of their shirts reminded me of a kaleidoscope, ever moving and including every color in the rainbow. The "normal" people in the center seating were beginning to file in through the doors, in much more formal clothing. Children were escorted, jumping in excitement, towards the slime zone. One girl, with a bald head and wearing a Justin Bieber tshirt, was proudly walking her parents down the aisle towards the slime zone. Her smile lit up her face, and silent tears were rolling down her parents' faces. As I watched that brave girl march towards the stage, I knew that I wasn't the only one who's dreams were being fulfilled tonight.

The Orange Carpet hadn't wrapped up yet, so I did not spot any celebrities. I took my time walking down the long center aisle towards the hulking stage, knowing that I would be sitting so close to it. I tried to soak in the atmosphere of the stadium; the energy was running high, as it was technically a children's awards show. The sound of chattering, laughing, and some false alarm screams filled the room, and I smiled in spite of myself. Here were thousands of people making all kinds of noise while I was still dumbstruck and silent. A 19 year old girl dressed in black clothes, walking around a children's awards show. I was never exactly normal in the first place, and smiled at what my mother would say if she saw someone like me just walking around like they were on cloud nine.

I spotted a bathroom three quarters of the way up to the front row. The large polished sign read "Section A Ticket Holders Only". Sitting in the front center row, I realized that this applied to myself. My mother had always told me to make sure I knew where the bathrooms and exits were. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I was suddenly glad that I had only won one ticket.

I dashed into the bathroom and decided to stow my luggage sneakily in the lavish bathroom. Being the A-List bathroom, it was magnificent, but I didn't have any time to waste admiring it. There would be much better eye candy than a bathroom I reminded myself. Trying to memorize exactly where I placed my bags, I finally reached the front row, thinking that in a restricted area such as that, it would be the most safe.

I scanned each of the front row seats, looking for my number. Various seats were reserved, with the name of the celebrity guest and a corresponding photograph. I looked down at my ticket, and read it once again to myself. Row 1, Seat 26, Section A. I repeated this is my mind, trying to keep my self confidence level up, but seeing all of the gorgeous people filling up the seats truly wasn't helping. For these people, being beautiful and glamorous was their job, and they were professionals.

Fixing my hair in a weak attempt to fit in, I walked down the row. The A-listers were beginning to arrive, and I realized that the show would soon be starting. I saw Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez, Chris Rock, Jack Black, even Michelle Obama. My heart was racing. All of these people. And they could all see little old me, walking by with a mixture of excitement and anxiety surely showing on my face. Trying to keep my cool, I continued the search for my seat, I scanned the neat numbers on the seats. 16, 17, 18, 19...Seat 20 was occupied. I looked up to see who it was. No other seat in the front row had been filled yet.

I found myself staring into the myseterious, handsome face of Zayn Malik. I looked down the row. Niall Horan. Liam Payne. Louis Tomlinson. Harry Styles.

I would be sitting next to One Direction.