The Girl Next Door (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

The Girl Next Door

A/N: Hello People of Wattpad :) This is my first story on here so it may not be the greatest but either way, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I only own the made up characters in this story. I do not hold any rights towards the members of One Direction or anyone associated with them in which I may name. That being said, this means that this is my work. Unauthorized copying and distribution of this work is illegal and can be punished by law. 

Do not take anything written in this story by offense. It's simply a work of my messed up imagination.

P.S. I am currently editing yet still writing, I realized how cliche my story seems in the beginning but trust me, I've really improved. So bear with me, it won't take long for the story to progress.

~*~

My phone blares out the lyrics of For the First Time by the Script causing me to drift out of sleep. I creak my eyelids open and see that it's eight-ten in the morning. Too early. I smile to the gentle melody and close my eyes as I snuggle back into my pillow. I zone out of reality and back to sleep.

Next thing I know, my Dad is yelling up the stairs, "Nicolet Lynlee Beckinridge! The airplane leaves by ten!" Great wakeup call Father. My eyelids snap open and it's nine 'o three. Nice going Nikki. Well done.

"Ugh," I mumble sitting up in my sleeping bag that was set up in my now empty room. I scratch the back of my head and feel that my hair is in a tangled mess. Great. Just fabulous.

Introducing the fabulous and graceful, Nicolet Beckinridge, everyone. Note the sarcasm.

I am seventeen and a half, but I've been told that pretty immature. I have slightly long brown hair and brown eyes. I don't see myself as pretty or beautiful but I've never really felt super insecure about how I look but I guess that's only because I don't see the need to mope around about something that you can't change. I am me. Always have been, always will be.

Currently, it is the morning of our "big move" to England. Oh the joy.

'Why Doncaster?' you may ask; simplest answer, my father has been relocated and transferred -which doesn't make much sense to me, but seeing as I'm underage, I can't stay in America and live on my own quite yet. 

I crawl out of my temporary bed- a sleeping bag- and go through some boxes until I find my toiletries, hairbrush, and a change of clothes.

I then head to the bathroom and clean up and get changed into my nyan cat t-shirt, American Eagle sweatshirt, pink skinny jeans, and silver all*star converse with rainbow shoelaces. I then look myself over in the mirror.

"Hm, not bad." I mumble to myself. I grab my stuff and shove it back into a random box, either way it'll get back to England anyway, so why should it matter where I put my things?

I grab the box and start to head down the stairs. I trip on by brother's video game console on the stairs and tumble down and faceplant into the carpet at the bottom.

My older brother, Zach, glances over at me, chuckling at my body being in a heap on the floor while making his way over to the kitchen. 

"I'm fine. Thanks for the concern." I mutter darkly to no one in particular, pulling myself off of the ground and picking up the box.

Leave it to Zach to care about my well-being.

I head over to the kitchen where I grab a jar of Nutella and an Eggo toaster waffle. Breakfast for the gods.

"So, what are you looking forward to seeing in England?" My mom asks, setting up her own breakfast.

"I dunno," I shrug nonchalantly, placing the waffle in the toaster, "I guess I don't really know how much different England is from America so I don't know what to look forward to seeing."

"They have pretty cool accents." My little sister, Sophia, calls from the living room where she's trying to shove all her barbie dolls into a backpack.

"Yeah, guys with British accents are hot." I smile dreamily.

Zach, whom is sitting across the room, just eating his own breakfast looks up at this. "What about British guys?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

I pause for a second, time to be the awkward turtle that I am, "I said people who buy British-" I pause, glancing around the kitchen before my eyes land on the garbage bin, "...trashcans are... odd." I make up awkwardly as Mom, Dad, Sophia, and Zach all send me unconvinced looks.

"No." Sophia says, shaking her head, "Just no."

Eventually, we finish breakfast and pack our belongings into the trunk of a taxi van that will take us to the airport. All the boxes that we aren't taking on the airplane over with us are being shipped to England where we can get them later on when we're getting settled in.

We all pile into the taxi van after a final sweep of the house to look for any things we may have left behind.

About a half an hour down the highway to the airport, Sophia, decides to speak up. "Mommy? Are we there yet?"

"We'll be there in five minutes sweetheart." Mom smiles, looking at us three siblings squished in the back seat.

~*~

The plane trip was alright as far as plane rides go; bit uneventful, actually, though I don't know what could possibly be considered eventful on a plane ride -other than the plane falling out of the sky.

I pulled my phone out to check my new notifications, few being from Twitter; notifying me that I had two new followers and a few mentions which I opt to check out later, one telling me that some random kid had poked me on Facebook -why I even bother to have a Facebook, I don't know,  and a text from my best guy friend, Troy, telling me to have a safe flight and that he'll skype me sometime in the future when I'm settled in.

Eventually, I decide that the flight is going to be painfully long if I don't figure out something more time consuming and interesting to do, so naturally, I resolve to fall asleep, earbuds in my ears, playing the soft melody of 'Never Grow Up' by Taylor Swift, my personal anthem. 

~*~

Getting our suitcases was a completely different experience description than the plane however. I actually had a mini battle with a senior citizen over my dinosaur backpack. Zach ended up seeing this and didn't even bother helping. He just recorded it with his iPhone. The jerk.

When we piled into a taxi van, my phone buzzed and I saw that my brother had tweeted:

@ZBeckin: Not even 10 mins in England and my sister @Its_Nikki is at war with the locals...  

Shooting Zach a dirty look, I shove the phone back into my pocket, face flushed in embarrassment; nearly every one of our former piers from Seattle follow Zach -and myself- on Twitter. So even when I'm thousands of miles away, I still manage to embarrass myself to their own amusement.

Riding in the car for an hour from the airport to our new home -one of which I have never even seen pictures of, might I add,- wouldn't have been so painful had it not been for the fact that Sophia was singing along to her music loudly, Zach blowing in my ear to irritate me, and my parents doing nothing about it, finding it actually quite amusing.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family and all, but sometimes they're just as obnoxious as I am. Me!

The second my dad parks in our driveway, I swing the door open and attempt to leap out... by attempt, I mean I forgot to unbuckle my seat belt, and get a huge whiplash in the process.

The second I step out of the van I look up at our new Doncaster Home.

Holy shit. 

~*~