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

Chapter 16- The Situation

Chapter 16

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When I finally cried myself out, I drove back home. The tears had soaked my uniform, and my face was a mess. I let my hair free of its hairnet jail, and I sat in the car, waiting for the redness and the puffiness to settle down in my eyes. I didn't want mom to know about my rough time. She had worried about me enough this weekend to last a lifetime. I knew her and Dad were crunching numbers, trying to figure out how to pay back the boys and Paul for everything they had done. Mom had called management, asking for Paul, but they said he would have to get back to her.

I walked into my house through the backdoor which was from the garden, and walked into my dining room. Kicking off my shoes, I walked over to a door on the other side of the room and went down to my basement bedroom. My parents operated the larger upper floor of my farmhouse home as a Bed and Breakfast, meaning that the top floor was just for guests. My parents had a room on the main floor, and I had shared my room with my much older brother before he moved out when I was five. My bedroom had its own bathroom and everything, and was more like an apartment than a bedroom. It even had its own door to the backyard.

The good thing about being in the basement was that I had an entire floor to myself. The floor was concrete, but I had lots of colorful rugs covering its coldness. I had a huge, white carved four poster bed that dominated the room. My bedsheets were pink and black with white polka dots, the comfiest sheets ever. I didn't have a closet; instead I had two large white dressers where I put all of my clothes. My computer desk housed a twenty-something year old Mac that was my baby, along with all of my drawing supplies. My walls were covered with shelves that held everything else: my books, my shoes, my jewlery. But my favourite thing in the room was an antique floor mirror. It was gold and oval in shape, and I thought it was beautiful. I tended to avoid the reflection in it most of the time, but the structure was nice all the same.

My walls were bubblegum pink, but you couldn't tell. Every inch was covered by posters and pictures. There were large ones from the store, smaller ones from magazines, and magazine clippings themselves. All pictures I had collected since 2010. All pictures that needed to come down. All of the boys.

I wanted to rip every picture off of my wall, I wanted to get rid of them permanently, but I couldn't make myself do it. Instead, I carefully removed each picture and poster one at the time, taking care to fold them up neatly, placing them in a carboard box that I put under my bed. It took a few hours, and I was left with a huge ball of sticky tack. My walls were wiped clean, ready to start all over again. I was done being sad; I just had to be strong and to move on.

I was fighting the urge to log onto twitter. I started up my dinosaur of my computer, and the familiar hum of the fan was welcoming. Some people would hate it; it was slow, unreliable, and outdated. But I adored it. My brother had taken an old computer from school and built me this one when I was little for when I got older. It may be slow, but there is no need to replace something that works perfectly fine.

I clicked onto Safari, and typed in the twitter address. My heart fluttered when I saw that I now had 7000 followers. I was only following 300. I clicked onto my interactions, then clicked on my mentions. Girls from everywhere were asking me to follow them, asking me to confirm my relationship with Harry, telling me about their day. It was quite odd, considering I wasn't anybody special.

It took me a while, but I scrolled down to the first girl who asked me to follow them. I followed her automatically, then did the same for the other girls who had asked. I sat there for two hours, following girls, saying happy birthday to some, shouting out others. I wanted to use my fifteen minutes of fame for good. I wanted these girls to feel like they mattered. They won't care when they find out what happened anyways.

After a certain point, a lof of girls were tweeting the link to the boys interview that had taken place yesterday, with the promise of "See what @Harry_Styles has to say about @onika_lovelykirkwood !". I debated clicking the link, and after a bit of an internal struggle, I let the link bring me to YouTube.

After the advertisement was done, there was a round of applause by the audience, as well as screaming, as One Direction walked onto the stage. They all looked so gorgeous, but it didn't do justice to how they look in person. They hugged the female host, and sat down on the couch opposite of her, all looking so comfortable and put together in coordinating outfits.

"Well, what a reception huh?" the host said smiling. The crowd clapped again, and the boys were all smiles. They were nothing if they were not charismatic in the least.

"How's LA treating you?" the host asked the boys.

"LA has been wonderful" Louis said. "The weather is great, the people are friendly, and the shopping is lovely. What else could you ask for?"

The crowd clapped again, and the host laughed.

"And the food is good too" Niall added, which left most of the crowd laughing. Oh Niall, how I missed his sweet innocence already.

"I have news that somebody in particular is enjoying himself here" the host said after the laughter had died down. Her voice was a bit lower, and she said it in a gossipy sort of way.

The screen behind them was lighted up with a picture of Harry and I leaving the club. We both looked drunk, and Harry was guiding me into the limo, both of us with giddy smiles on our faces. My hair was messy, my clothes a little screwed up, and both of our faces were shinning from all of the dancing we had done. In short, it was one of the most embarassing pictures of myself that I have ever seen, and here it was on national televison. Oh joy.

"Harry, can you tell us who this girl is?" the host asked, eyebrows raised. She leaned in, putting her hand on Harry's arm, as if she was his friend in grade school that wanted to learn his secret.

Harry looked torn, and my own face mirrored his, feeling the pain he felt. He however quickly reclaimed his composure.

"She's a friend of mine; we get on really well" he answered calmly, his general answer when it came to girls. I almost rolled my eyes. If I had a dime for everytime I had heard him say that...

"Oh really?" the host asked, seeming to know more about the situation than Harry himself. They then proceeded to show a picture of Harry kissing me on the balcony poolside of the club. I was layng on his chest, my legs wrapped around him, giving the impression that something happened that definately didn't in real life. The crowd started to make catcalls, and I found my own face go red. I couldn't imagine how he must have been feeling there in public.

"Can we change the subject?" Zayn asked, sensing Harry's discomfort. He looked at him with a nervous grin, but he looked grateful.

"Alright" she said. "Is she here with you today?"

The crowd laughed, but Harry had his answer ready.

"No, she had to go home this morning over some issues" he said soberly, ending that conversation. The host continued the interview in a lighthearted way, but avoided asking Harry anymore questions. His expression was enough to deflect any question she had for him.

Knowing that there was no more about me, I stopped watching the interview, left pretty confused. He obviously still had feelings for me, which hurt me. If that was the case, why couldn't have have said I was his girlfriend when those girls in LA asked, or even those thugs? Why did he treat me so coldly the night before I left? That was an weird way of showing how he cared. Abut I couldn't worry about that; hadn't I just promised myself to be strong and move on? I had to stop thinking about this.

I went back on twitter to messages of "OMG, thank you so much for following! Fangirling!" etc., and I couldn't help but smile. It was weird for people to be feeling this way about little old me. I was in my room on my computer just like any other girl. There was nothing special, nothing extraordinary about me that made me different. I took time to respond to everyone, and I spent my whole night on twitter, which is sad. I finally tweeted "You're all amazing & beautiful, but I have to catch some Zzz's! #Offline" before I went to bed.

Before I logged off my computer, I checked my DMs, something I had been avoiding. I had only one message:

"We need to talk". It was sent at 4:35 this afternoon by Harry Styles.