A Dream Come True - A Harry Styles Love Story

Sam is a massive directioner, to say the least. She would do anything to meet the famous boys of One Direction. But when One Direction comes to her hometown for a concert, will she get the chance to make her dreams come true?


6. They Are Here

The next week One Direction would be in town. That meant serious business. I had all my merchandise out, hair straightener heated up. I was ready for them. Despite not finding an outfit for myself, I was content wearing my 1D fan shirt and shorts. No big deal. At least Emma looked great.


A week dragged by, slow as ever, and by the time One Direction had finished their concerts in Australia, I knew their flights and hotel. I was prepared for them. Almost.


The day came. It was sunny (as sunny as an autumn day can be) and the boys flight was about to arrive. Emma and I knew it would be stupid trying to catch a glimpse of them at the airport. Management always found some way to sneak them away from us. So we waited overnight outside their hotel. It was freezing at night, but sleeping bags kept us warm, and excitement as the sun came up, kept us motivated and determined to meet them.


Emma and I knew we would need to fight for their attention. Besides, how many other screaming girls were surrounded by us? We didn’t have much of a chance, but it was worth the risk.


My alarm from my phone went off; telling me their flight had arrived. I started screaming and jumping about, knowing they were on their way.


When I say I was ‘almost’ prepared for them, I meant that I was not mentally prepared. At all. The boy’s van pulled up, shining black, reflecting the crowd of us girls. I never realized how packed it had gotten. Sure I expected many people, but this? It was ridiculous. Lucky for Emma and I, we had gotten there early enough for us to be close to the front.


Suddenly Paul stepped out of the van, hands in pockets, immediately speaking to security.


We all knew what was coming next. I screams became louder and louder as the boys held back in the van. Eventually, we saw Niall’s hand stick out by the door. Next came his legs, and then his face. Emma almost fainted. He was geared up in baggy brown jeans, white t-shirt and sneakers. Oh and he was wearing his glasses. Those glasses mad us all melt.


We screamed loud and hard, hoping to get his attention. He hung around by Paul as another body came out of the van.


Zayn Malik.


Everyone beamed with joy and yelled out his name, a girl next to me crying her heart out.


Zayn looked sexy as ever, wearing a gray singlet, showing off his tattoos, cream pants and black sneakers. His hair slicked the way it always was. It felt unreal seeing these boys right in front of me (well maybe they were 50 meters away, but who cares?).


As we were still in shock, screaming and chanting the boy’s names, Liam stepped out of the van, big, cherry grin on his face. His perfect face.


Wearing a maroon t-shirt and blue, tight jeans, he headed over to stand with Zayn, Niall and Paul.


I blushed as they all looked around and Liam stared straight at me, giving me a smile.


“Oh my god, did you just see that!? Did you just see that?” I asked Emma frantically, “Liam smiled at me,” I whispered to myself when Emma didn’t respond, putting my hands up to my burning cheeks.


Emma had gotten herself in a trance. Her eyes were glued to Niall’s face, her eyes lit up in delight. I knew how she felt. It was all so incredible.


Lastly Louis walked out of the van; hand over his eyes, squinting in the sun. Wearing a stripped blue shirt, tight red skinny’s and, of course, toms with no socks, he managed to find his other band members and stood with them, looking around at the crowd. I waved frantically at all of them, hoping for one wave.


But where was Harry? He was the boy I was waiting for.


The rest of the boys were talked to by security and were allowed to come round and high five us fans. Harry soon slipped from my mind as Niall and Louis came closer and closer to Emma and I, our hearts beating a million miles an hour.



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