Written

Chapter 6

On Friday morning, I jolt awake at ten minutes after three. For the first time in years, I've overslept. It's only ten minutes, but it throws off my whole morning. I rush around pulling my shoes on and throwing my hair into a messy knot on top of my head. This will have to do for today.

The show this morning is completely dedicated to One Direction. It's as if the entire city is at a standstill for this concert; five boys come into town and the city stops moving for them. It would usually irritate me, but today I don't mind. Mike and Gail replay segments of the interview and add post-interview commentary, taking calls from listeners. Majority of the calls are, again, young girls with questions about the band's mannerisms. What did they say? How did they act? Hug or handshake? Mike puts on an entertaining act of "I can't believe I'm telling a twelve year old what Niall Horan smells like," but he is obviously loving the humor.
The broadcast continues this way until 11:30. Gail explains that we're going off-air early but that she and Mike will be downtown outside the concert venue with activities and chances to win prizes.

"Hayley will not be with us," Gail says into the mic, wiggling her eyebrows at me. "She will be otherwise occupied today." Damn it. I knew telling her about Harry's invitation was a bad idea. She has been giving me hell all morning, teasing me about being a groupie.

I walk out of the station with Gail, who awkwardly hugs me goodbye. Gail is arguably my closest friend, but we do not hug. When she pulls away, I see a touch of sadness in her eyes. I battle with my curiosity and offer her a small smile before getting into my car.

I drive to my apartment wondering what could have made Gail look at me like that. Does she pity me? Is she worried about this concert thing? Gail has always looked out for me like a big sister, but she knows that I would never do anything stupid. When I get home, I push all thoughts of Gail to the back of my mind. I feel like all of my thoughts have been pushed away lately; the back of my mind is slowly becoming a cluttered mess.
It is noon on the dot. The concert starts at 7:30, and I realize I have no idea when I'm supposed to get there. I hesitate. Do I text Harry? No. For some reason I feel like I can't. I remember his sad words about people feeling like they can't talk to him, and change my mind. I don't give myself time to overthink the message before hitting send.

*Hi. What time should I get there?*

*Good morning. 4, I guess.* he replies almost immediately.

*Okay. And it's afternoon, by the way.*

*I just woke up, so it's still morning. See you at 4.*

So I have four hours. I don't know what to wear, I don't know where to go, I really don't know anything. But instead of trying to figure it out, I do what I always do when I have too many decisions to make and lay across my bed and fall asleep, setting my alarm to 1:30.

When my alarm goes off and I finally shake the intense confusion of a middle of the day nap, I jump in the shower. Again, I feel as if I should be nervous, but the feeling hasn't quite caught up with me yet. I am more nervous to be in an uncontrolled situation. I like to know what's going on at all times, I like to have a plan. They way that Harry said "4, I guess" does not exactly go with the way that I like to do things.
I fumble around in my closet for a while. What exactly does one wear to the most highly anticipated concert of the year? I weigh the options. I do not want to dress up, but I don't want to look like I don't want to be there. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize how much I do want to be there. I end up going with the most basic thing I own (actually, most of what I own is pretty basic) and throw on a black tank top over a pair of jean shorts. I almost go with jeans before remembering that it will be hot inside the arena.
I put on my usual makeup, knowing that it won't matter. The arena will be dark and no one will be paying attention to me anyway.