As my eyes flutter open, I am greeted with a pounding headache. I lift my body up to a sitting position much to the protest of my sore muscles. “What happened last night?” I wonder aloud, “Where am I?” Questions keep forming in my head as my mind scrambles to answer them. “WHO am I?” And with that, three women dressed in white arrive bedside and sedate me back into unconsciousness. My last view before my lights went out is a tall thin boy with a mop of curly hair.
-5 years earlier-
“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” my alarm clock wails at me, telling me that it is time to get up for school. If I had school to get up for… I guess I forgot to turn the bloody alarm off since school ended Friday.
Rolling over and reaching for the crying machine takes a ton of effort from my lazy body so I swing and slap the wooden nightstand instead. I open my eyes to get a look at my target and come to find a pair of legs planted firmly next to my bedside table. “Just peachy,” I mutter along with a few obscenities.
I look up and meet the eyes of my older brother, Zayn. “What do you want?” I question already annoyed by him and his early presence.
Zayn, just finished his junior year at Lincoln High, while I just finished my sophomore year. Whenever we are at school he treats me like some stupid underclassman. But, when he does let me get around him and his group of buddies there is one boy there that is just perfect. Compared to my brother who is a tall and tan boy with high cheekbones and a toned body, my boy looks like an angel sent from God himself. He’s quite fit, brunette roots with blonde (as a result of him dying his hair) blue eyes, perfect teeth, just an all around perfect guy.
“I need you to come with me.” He explains with clear signs of annoyance.
“If you are going to be so annoyed with me, why do I have to go with you? I question. I really hate going around with Zayn, I’m always just there for the ride because our mom makes him drag me along.
“Mom says I have to take you with me and the lads. She wants you to actually go outside this summer rather than stay inside and scroll through twitbookgram or whatever the hell you do when you are on your phone.” He states. First of all, I knew he didn’t want to take me. Second of all, it’s Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.
“Who is going?”
“The lads, me, and you.”
“Who is included when you say the ‘lads’?”
“Harry, Liam, Louis”
“Oh, and Niall.”
My heart flutters to hear that he will be tagging along. I pretend like I don’t care that my angel will be joining us so that I don’t blow my cover to Zayn.
“Do I absolutely have to go?” I whine.
“Yes. Unless you want to feel the wrath of mom.”
“I take it that you are joining us.”