World's Apart (1D Fan Fiction)

She is the daughter of the most powerful drug dealer in Mexico.
They are One Direction.
Who would have thought that they'd ever meet? But they do. Sent on a mission to London, Frankie runs into the boys, but however much she tries to get rid of them, they don't want to let go that easily. The boys could blow her cover and the world could find out what her father is doing. With a life full of lies, murderers and drugs, Frankie hasn't got time for love, but it's the love for the boys that makes her choose - her family or One Direction?

2Likes
1Comments
821Views
AA

2. Chapter 1

 I sink into the seat in the aeroplane; my economy class, hard, lumpy seat. I put my rucksack at my feet, careful to place it down gently – god forbid if anything happened to it. I take the window seat and just hope that I don’t get some weirdo sitting next to me. As I look out of the window, I take my last look at sunny Mexico and sigh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy to be out of the compound and actually doing something, but apparently the English weather isn’t exactly something to look forward to. But it’s May; surely it can’t be that bad?

  It’s the first time I’ve been abroad, I guess it’s because I’ve turned eighteen that he let me go. Even if it isn’t exactly a leisure trip. I sigh again, but this time, happily. A weekend away from Tyrone.

  I lean back into my seat and close my eyes, ready to sleep. I’m dead to the world a few seconds into the safety announcements.

 

*

 

  I open my eyes as the wheels of the plane hit English soil, or tarmac in this case. The first thing I see when I look out of the window is the grey drizzle over London. Great.

  When we finally stop I grab my rucksack, eager to get off the plane. We file off painfully slowly and it takes forever to get into the airport. I stride down the corridor and appreciate for the first time exactly how big Heathrow airport is. I thought Tyrone had been exaggerating, but it turns out you actually could get lost in here for days, wondering around in circles. Eventually I reach the baggage hall and find my small suitcase.

  I laugh to myself as I head towards a sigh announcing ‘Nothing to Declare’. What are they expecting me to do, walk up to them and say, “Hi, my names Frankie Gesner and I’m trying to smuggle drug into your country”? I don’t think so.

   The smile dies on my lips as I see the long queue in front of me. This is the bit I’ve been dreading most. It’s the last passport check, but the most risky. In Mexico they don’t look twice at your passport, and even if they do, I have the money to make them forget. I roll my eyes at that; the whole of Mexico’s corrupt. I’ve yet to meet a single policeman in Mexico refuse a bribe. The government don’t exactly help stop it; if they paid the police more then they wouldn’t need the bribes. Not that I’m complaining.

  Problem is English boarder control isn’t quite so lax. As the queue shortens I get more and more nervous, but instead I act impatient. Security gets suspicious if you look too nervous. I eye up the men waiting by gates for passport control. They have the muscle, but I can out run them. And if it came to hand-to-hand combat, I’m quick enough to dodge any punches, probably landing a few of my own. I might not be able to hit hard, but I know to hit where it hurts. I smirk, imagining all the things I’d do to them.

  Before I know it, I’m at the front to the queue. I walk up to the desk and hand in my passport.

  “Lola Swan?” Asks the attendant behind the desk.

  I nod. Yep, I have a fake passport.

  She looks between me and the passport photo and seems satisfied. I let out a relieved breath and reach out to take the passport back from her. Suddenly, as she hands it over, she narrows her eyes at the passport, spotting something. “Hang on a minute. Security!” She calls.

  Crap. Time to go.

  I grab the passport out of her hand and charge through the gate beside her desk. Security men are already giving chase, and thanks to the attendant, they’re close behind me. As I spin around a corner I push the suitcase I’m pulling towards the men and I watch, satisfied, as one of the men trip over it, but I don’t stay to enjoy the show. I pull my backpack higher onto my shoulder because whatever happens, I need this bag.

  I run full pelt through the busy terminals, weaving expertly in and out of the travellers. I can hear Security behind me, pushing through the crowds to get to me. I laugh as I run. They might be the ones with the muscle, but there’s no way they’re going to catching up with me.

  I glance over my shoulder quickly and see the men struggling to get past a large group of tourists. They’re yelling at them to move, but they can see I’m getting further away. I smile and shoot them a little wave, before turning down another crowded hallway. Sometimes being small has it’s advantages, I think as I squeeze around trolley carrying four suitcases being pushed by a worn out looking man while his wife corrects her make up in a pocket mirror.

  I can’t see Security behind me any more, but I don’t slow down. I stay in the most crowded areas, trying not to be spotted. Just as I start to think I won't be found I hear the load stomping of feet behind me. Uh-oh, time to leave. Unlatch myself from the family I was shadowing and I look around and see a door marked ‘VIP Lounge’. I don’t think twice about it.

  Maybe if I did I would have realised that it probably wasn’t the best place to hide. Everything will change if I open that door, because as I slam the door behind me, I lean against it and sink to the floor. When I look up I see five boys looking right at me.

  They all freeze in shock as they see me. Two of the boys are lying on top of each other on the sofa mid-play fight, a black haired boy looks up from his phone, the blond one pauses in stuffing his face with crisps and the last one walks out of a room to the left carrying a glass of water – which he drops at the sight of me, glass smashing all over the floor.

  I, on the other hand, completely ignore them. I sit up and press my ear against the door. All I can hear for a second is the chattering of people, but then the pounding of feet runs straight past the door. I smile to myself, relaxing. What idiots. I kneel on the floor and check my bag. Good, Rosie’s still intact.

  The adrenaline still courses through me, so I jump up and laugh as I see the boys’ faces, jaws nearly hitting the floor.

  The brown haired one who dropped the glass snaps out of it first, looking down and swearing under his breath. The two on the sofa scramble to sit up, both of them have sweeping brown hair, but the curly one grins at me.

  “Hey gorgeous, what can we do for you?”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I assess the situation. Okay, so these guys must be important if they’re in the VIP room, which means normally I’d stay as far away from them as possible, but this group seem pretty naive so maybe I can use them.

  “I need to hide.” They all just look blankly at me.

  Ergh, I don’t have time for this; I have to get out of here before Security come back. I run to the window and look down. I curse when I see that we’re two stories up. Even if we’d been on the first floor I would have risked it, but I’m not suicidal. I look around for anywhere else to hide, the boys still looking at me weirdly. I round on them. “Are you going to stare at me or are you going help?”

  Just then there’s a loud banging on the door. “Security - open up!”

  The curly haired one jumps up and grabs my arm. I want to pull away from him, but he tugs me though a door on the right. He opens door we find ourselves in a small bathroom. And I mean small. I’m pressed up against his chest staring into his green eyes.

  “Well this is cosy. I’m Harry.” He winks.

  “Shut up.” I push against him chest to clear some space and stand with my ear pressed against the door, straining to hear anything.

  “Hey, I’m hiding you aren’t I? Do you want me to hand you over?” Harry whispers in my ear, but I can hear the teasing tone in his voice, so I know he’s not going to turn me in.

  I roll my eyes, “Okay, could you please be quiet I’m trying to listen to what’s happening? Better?”

  “Much,” he smirks.

  We’re both quiet. I hear voices as someone opens the door to the men. I’m surprised they don’t just barge in. I suppose this lot must be famous – they don’t want to get into trouble.

  “Is something wrong Officers?” I hear one of the boys say politely.

  “Have you seen a girl come in here? Tall, thin, blond hair and carrying a rucksack.”

  “No, I’d have remembered if I had.”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to search the area, the whole airport is being searched.” I can hear the forced politeness to his words. It makes me smirk just to think of his expression. Yes, I’m the kind of girl who laughs while being chased by ‘good guys’. It happens surprisingly often.

  “But we haven’t seen her!” An Irish voice pipes up.

  “What has she done?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss it. I’m sorry, but we are going to have to-” I hear heavy footsteps enter the room and immediately look anywhere I could be hiding.

  I look up a Harry, begging him to do something. He looks around the cramped bathroom and spots a shower cubical behind the door. He opens the door quickly and I get in closing the door behind me. What the hell do they have a shower in an airport bathroom for? Ergh, celebrities.

  A knock sounds on the bathroom door and Harry flushes the toilet before opening the door to the men outside. I can see his put his hands on him hips through the muted glass and hear his annoyed tone. “Can’t I get any privacy anymore?” I try not to laugh. The men take one look around the apparently empty bathroom before apologising to a pissed Harry and backing out of the doorway.

  I hear the door to the VIP lounge close and I wait another minute before getting out of the shower, damp from condensation.

  I shake myself out and walk into a room with all eyes on me. Damn, what do I say now?

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...