Cats, Kisses, And Wagon Wheels. *finished*

One Direction, a band that was formed during the 2010 X Factor. Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson. Oh right, and Charlie Hunter. You didn't know about her? The Wagon-Wheel-addict with the curly hair? Well, I doubt anyone will tell you too much then. After all, what happens in the house, stays in the house. (Silver in the M Factor Competition) "This story is so hilarious, and it's already my favourite." - "...an amazing story, full of romance, drama, teenage life and loads more! The storyline is amazing, the characters are easy to visualize." - "An all around perfect book, even though it's a fanfiction!" --Written for my cousin-in-law, Lottie, who wanted to have a One Direction Fanfic for her birthday. You are welcome.--

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12. I Hate That.

In Which There Is Some Jumping And Charlie And Zayn Do Girl-Talk.

 

 

A/N: I am so tired.

OMG I'm getting so stressed out because I feel liek I won't finfish this in time and it's exam week soon and I'm freaking out ... I will not make it. I will not. I'm crying. But anyways, I actually might since we've already gotten well past half of CKWW as the shortened version. I might do some sort of Q&A at the end, by the way. I'm also thinking of making a sequel, since the shorter CKWW version ends with the end of Judge's House (which is sooooooon!). So please tell me if you want to have a sequel (just generally) and ask me questions on the twitter machine (@FiaGiggles). Hashtag CKWW so I know what you're talking about and just because I want to become big! Gigantic! Thousands of people should read Charlie's story because I love her! Haha. (And I don't really want to become gigantic, I'm fat enough, it's just ... you know what I mean.) Byez. xx

PS: I write best when I'm at school and I have a free, or when I'm on the bus. It's really weird. Okay.

PPS: I felt like I was leaving Zayn out of the picture a bit, so there is some serious Zayn-Charlie-alone-time in this chapter.

 

 

 

 

 “Wow,” Harry breathed next to me.

I nodded. There wasn’t really anything I could’ve said, either.

Simon’s mansion was huge. And I’m talking huge even for a mansion, and that kind of has the word huge in it. Being the only girl in One Direction, I’d have a room for myself, and I could only imagine what that would look like. Nothing like my tiny shared dorm room with the epic wall, I’d bet.

Liam stood on my other side, panting slightly.

“Wow,” he said.

Harry and I nodded in unison.

“Oh, and by the way, Chaz, I’ve got your bags.”

Again, I just nodded. I was still busy staring at the house-mansion-castle-thing.

“I think she’s a bit stunned,” Harry told him.

I finally found my voice. “Overwhelmed is more like is. This thing is huge, What- what is this?”

“This is the Spain mansion for this year’s X Factor.”

I stared at Liam.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

He grinned. “You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been to Marbella before, once.”

Niall, who was now carrying his luggage over, dropped it to ask, “What’s Marbella?”

“Mate, it’s this city. Only totally high-class people actually live here. Famous for its yachts and rich people. My Dad went here once on a business trip and took us with him, it was ace.”

Zayn shook his head. “You're so lucky, I’ve never been outside the UK before. I had to have a passport made for this. It better be worth it.”

I laughed. “Let’s make it worth it.” With that, I took my bags and went inside.

I really shouldn’t have. I should’ve taken some more time outside to adjust. This took my breath away. It actually did.

“Guys, put your bags into your assigned rooms and come back outside for meeting your mentor in ten,” some stressed-looking lady with a headset shouted.

That was when the chaos started, and believe me, it was bad. But we still somehow managed to get outside in time.

It was weird standing outside these gigantic wooden doors with the boys and the other groups. It actually felt like a competition, and a hard one at that.

“I still think it’s Uncle Simon,” Louis whispered in my ear.

I smiled. “If it is, he’s going to kick your bum if he ever hears you call him Uncle Simon.”

The doors opened, and ironically, the first thing I thought wasn’t Damn, we’re lucky or This is so cool or This is gonna be tough, it was actually, Oh shite, Lou’s right. I was a weird person.

And yes, it was Simon Cowell. If you’d listen closely, you could probably hear me fangirling inside.

This random blonde guy actually ran up to Simon and hugged him (much to his dismay, judging my his face), which unfortunately gave some others the idea that this would be a great thing to do. Poor Uncle—oh damn. Poor Simon. Sir.

Everyone else just ran up the stairs as well, jumping around and freaking out a bit, with me just standing there awkwardly because I didn’t feel it was right to freak out now.

“This is weird,” Zayn whispered in my ear. He wasn’t jumping, either.

“Do you think we have to jump and scream as well? Because I’d rather not, but I feel peer pressured into this,” I told him.

He grinned. “I don’t think so.”

I nodded. “Okay. Cool.”

“This is freaking me out.” Oh, look, Liam wasn’t jumping, either. We were such an uncool bunch.

Zayn nodded slowly. “Same.”

“Okay, there are some people here to interview you, so if they ask you, don’t run away,” Simon said. “Other than that, you’ve got today off, we start tomorrow at eight sharp.”

Zany groaned. “Eight? Is he for real?”

I nudged him. “Shut up, Malik, he’s Simon Cowell, of course he is.”

“But eight is so early,” he whined.

To be fair, it probably was to him.

 

* CKWW *

 

I was sitting cross-legged on my new bed for the week, just staring at my surroundings. It was all blue—baby blue walls, navy sheets, a very light blue bed, navy wardrobe and a dresser. Blue sort of was my colour as well. What with my hair being wheat blonde and my turquoise eyes, it really suit me; and it calmed me as well. It reminded me of home, or, well, my old school. All the way until I got into Sixth Form, my school uniform had been all blue—navy skirt, tights, and sweater with the school crest embroidered on my chest in a light blue, and a blouse with blue stripes. Navy was the Ackworth colour so to speak. I’d loved it.

I really needed to find out what colour the boys’ school uniforms had been, I thought. With Harry's luck, I’d bet his had been green.

And there it was again.

Lately, I had been somewhat obsessed with the curly-haired boy, and by lately I mean that the crush had hit me like a bullet (which was a good simile for me). He was the first one I noticed when I came into a room, and the last one I looked at when I left it. It was awful.

I’d only ever had one crush before, and that one had been on Liv’s boyfriend, mostly because I felt insanely sorry for him because his girlfriend was such a bee. I’m just telling you that so it's clear how few experience I had with crushes. And that one had been more of a crush because it was the right thing to do, because I’d never had one before and felt it was time.

This one was a real one, the kind that is described in movies and books. Only it didn’t feel as good as it is described in movies and books. It was like a really bad obsession, and it was driving me crazy. I couldn’t think about anything but Harry, I saw him in every corner even though there was nothing there, I even dreamt of him. Yes.

It was annoying and pathetic and I was so done. More so, it was unhealthy.

I groaned and let myself fall backwards onto the soft cushions. My life was basically over. Over, I’m telling you.

I heard my door open and looked up to see Zayn.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

I sat up again. “You already sort of did, do go on.”

He grinned and came over. I let myself fall on the mattress again and he lay down next to me, our sides barely touching.

“This house is amazing, huh?”

I looked at him. “Mate, no chit-chatting, what do you really want?”

He laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

Silence.

“You know, I was sort of implying you tell me now, not in two hours.”

He didn’t laugh, but turned towards me. Oh, so this was a serious talk.

“You really like Harry, don’t you?”

I briefly thought about denying it, but you couldn’t lie to Zayn. He knew stuff. And if h came to talk to me about it, he had to be pretty damn sure. Besides, he could keep secrets. Zayn could be quiet; that was why he was my favourite sometimes.

I sighed. “It’s awful,” I spoke my thoughts.

He nodded. “Sorry.”

I had to laugh at his poor choice of words.

He laughed, too. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

“Sure did,” I grinned. “No it's okay. I know what you mean. Sort of.”

He got serious again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I was still shaking my head no when the words started bubbling out.

“It's just … it’s terrible, I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t even write songs any more, and I thought that was what helped people when they have a crush. This is not me! This is some crazy teenage girl who’s fallen for the fit guy in her year. I really am desperately in love—me! Me, the one who said there was nothing to worry about, who said I wasn’t a girly girl, who told Gemma that I was just his friend, just like Louis.”

Zayn winced. “Ouch.”

“Exactly!” My voice broke, that’s how high I went in my hysterics.

“I’ve never been like that, ever, and now it's suddenly like I’m all fourteen Middle Schooler.” I huffed. “I hate that. I hate that I can’t function normally anymore, that I can’t even look at a cute guy anymore, let alone flirt with him, without comparing him to Harry. I hate that I nearly cried when I heard him rehearse Torn in his room because I thought it was so beautiful. I hate that I actually don’t think I’ll ever be normal again and that I’ll forever be stuck being the type of smitten girl I’ve always mocked. I hate that I’m edgy all the time, like hyperactive and I hate that I see his face every time I close my eyes, like it’s burnt into the back of my eyelids. I hate that I act against all better knowledge, that I can’t help but feel ecstatic when he does something everyday for him, like hold the door for me. I hate, hate, hate that with only so much as a smile from him, my heart about implodes.” I had started talking faster and faster, and now had to suck in air in a shaky breath. I hadn’t even realised I was crying until now. I wiped away the tears angrily, but they kept on coming.

“But most of all,” I sniffed, “I hate that I can’t even attempt to hate him. Not ever. Not even close. I just—I can’t.”

We lay there in silence, me and Zayn, him rubbing my back while I was crying into his shoulder, probably ruining his shirt.

“Wow,” Zayn said after a while.

I smiled a crooked half-smile.

He sucked in a breath, changing the mood.

“So. If I ever marry, can you write my vows?”

I laughed, and realised that this had been just what I needed. Zayn just always knew what to say, and when to let someone else do all the talking. I’d had to talk it all out, like purging, and he’d known that, so he had come to me to let me talk. He had known what to do. He always did.

I wiped away the tear stains on my cheeks.

“You're awesome, do you know that?”

He grinned. “I try.”

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