Crossed Destiny

Everything can change in just a matter of days.
Some say it's destiny.
But what the boys didn't know was that their world will turn upside down after a visit to Paris.


1. The Encounter

“AHHHHH! 1D! 1D!”

The shrieks and desperate cries of girls can be heard from miles away. It was a commotion, girls trying to break the security fence, throwing objects, and yelling out the same name all over and over again. This was a special edition of French girls’ gone crazy; I lived in France for almost five years and never have I seen quite a stir. I could sense hormones breaking the level bar, girls throwing personal entities that should be kept out of seen in public. This is crazy, I thought. But what is much crazier is that the pack of girls is causing an uprising is in front of a building where I have to access. Damn, the first thought that came to my head. How am I going to enter the building without wrestling through packs of fanatic girls? But hey, don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against these people and the band they call ‘One Direction’. It’s just that, this was the day that I could get a chance to show my artworks to an agency where they can connect me to art shops that might be interested in my work and maybe get a diploma. But no, the agency had to be located in the same building as where a radio station is located. It was all for nothing, I had to get through the front door.

It will not be easy, the girls made a human barricade; making it impossible to get through and with my portfolio in my bag it would be twice tougher. Well, if you were lucky enough to get through, you may at least take bruises and scratches as a souvenir! I took a breath, as I pushed through; it was way easier than I thought it would be. I thought of myself as a strong teen; being a member of the flag football and soccer team it was almost easy to shove through the crowd. It was easy, but not until I came to the fact that the whole mob was barricaded; I had to find a way around it.

The sun was out that day, pretty humid, and with a temperature of 35°C; the heat started killing me. The tormenting screams, yells, scratches, and tackles started to suffocate me as I shoved my way through the fence looking for a spot that I can climb on to. I was sweating my body out; I was lucky I wore a shirt under a loose cardigan hiding my sweat stains (don’t want to look filthy-looking for the agency, right?) Ten minutes past, I saw an open barricade near the entrance where I could get through; all I needed was an excuse for the security to let me pass through. I rushed as fast as possible, making my way to the open fence.

“Arêtes!” called the security. He was a rugged looking man about 5.9 feet of height and I could tell by his voice that he was exhausted; probably because of the heat.

“Monsieur! J’ai un rendez-vous dans le troisième étage de ce bâtiment,” I answered immediately after a quick grasp of breath.

“Parlez-vous Anglais?” the guard asked.

“Yes , sir; I do speak English,” I said in a jubilant way; hoping to wear off the suspicion in his face.

“Well, do you know that what you did there is an example of security breaching?”

“Yes, sir but you must understand-”

“Yes, I understand. I understand that you are thrilled to see ‘One Direction’ and that you would do anything just to meet them,” he said in a rather sarcastic way.

I was stunned, “No, sir I have to get in the building. I have an appointment in the art agency on the third floor of this building! I ask you sir to please allow me to enter the building.”

But as soon as the guard started to speak, a girl from behind the fence took my hair and pulled it towards her, “You might be prettier than me but that doesn’t mean you can be able to enter the building to meet ‘One Direction’. They’re mine and will be mine.”

She started to pull my hair more aggressively and started to object every word that I say; this is probably the worst ‘girl situation’ I have ever been to and I don’t even know what I did wrong. My designs scattered along the floor. It was all so wrong but until someone told her to stop. It was someone in authority; because the voice stopped her from what she was doing when the guard couldn’t. I was thankful for that voice and as I picked up my scattered artwork from the floor; I couldn’t help but think of running as fast as I can after I scoop my designs from the dirty road. But before I was about to take off, a hand pulled me back. It was the strongest hand I ever felt besides my father’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly as he pulled me closer to him. It was one of the worst moments in a girl’s life; looking horrible, beaten down, and hair all messy in front of a gorgeous boy. At first I wasn’t able to hear him for the crowd volume increased twice and all I could hear were preposterous proposals to a boy named Zayn. But after asking twice, was I able to answer him:

 “Yes, I’m fine. I’m okay, in fact I was about to go,” I said nervously as I looked past to my previous attacker and to the handsome man in front of me. I took my hand off his hand, I can’t accept his hands when I barely know him, and that the fact is: because of his over-rated band I got into this mess and wasn’t able to shine in that fashion agency. I planted hate on my heart as I told him my thanks and walked away quickly.

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