A Chuisle mo Chroi

“You boys ready?” Paul asked, before shoving the five of us on stage.

“Oh, don’t forget to turn your phones off! That means you, Niall!” he called after us, specifically scolding me.

Giving a slight nod as promise, I ran out onto the stage after my band mates. The four of them were already seated, leaving a barstool open for me between Zayn and Harry. On my way to the stool, I noticed the crowd of people just as I seated myself.

Their faces were all a blur, molding with one another as they pushed and shoved to move to the front of the floor, only to be stopped short by a wall of body guards. Lights constantly flashed as our fans snapped photos of us sitting up on the stage.

I glanced at the others; they were smiling and posing for the cameras. Nervously, I attempted a smile, but I couldn’t help feeling insecure and self-conscious; as if everyone could see right through my façade of confidence.

To the far right, a woman walked out from the side of the stage and took her spot on the only stool left available.

Facing us she smiled, greeting us, “Hello boys, it’s very great to have you here.”

“Thank you, Mary. It’s wonderful to be here,” Liam replied, answering for our group.

Mary shifted, speaking to the audience. “Fans, I’d like you all to welcome the new up and coming boy band, One Direction!”

Screams ensued, as our fans jumped up and down, clapping their hands with excitement. Laughing and motioning with her hands for the fans to settle down, Mary turned to face us once again.

“I bet you guys never get tired of that, do you?”

“Do we tire of thousands of attractive girls screaming our names?” Louis questioned sarcastically. “Yes, always. It’s so exhausting!” he exclaimed, tossing his arms up in the air, over exaggerating his movements. Smirking, he tacked on, “Well, except for Harry. He never tires of it.”

As I looked to my left, I caught Harry’s grin and slight shrug of the shoulders just before it vanished. Chuckling, Mary grabbed a sheet of paper, preparing to move on to the interview when a phone went off; the chorus of a Michael Bublé song played as the room became ever so quiet. Heads turned in alternate directions, searching for the source of the sound.

I reached a hand into my pocket, my cheeks flushing red as I recognized the ringtone. Scrambling to pull my phone out, I silenced it immediately, glancing at the sender before shoving it back in my khakis.

“Sorry, I meant to silence my phone earlier,” I apologized, utterly embarrassed. “Paul warned me about that,” I admitted, chancing a glimpse at our main manager.

He appeared as if his jaw was glued shut; muscles profusely bulging and straining against his skin, grinding his teeth down to the pulp. It was safe to say that he was upset.

Averting my gaze back to the audience, I silently wished that this would be one of our longer interviews. In hopes that with time, Paul would calm down or I would at least have the opportunity to plan a quick escape afterwards.

“So Niall, who was that just now,” Mary asked, reclaiming my attention, and then adding “Was it your girlfriend?”

Looking down at my shoes, I could feel my face heat up as the blush spread across my cheeks. I racked my brain, struggling to form a response.

“Niall isn’t dating anyone right now,” Zayn interceded, noticing my anxiety.

“Oh really?” she inquired, refusing to give up so easily. “Then who was it, if not your girlfriend?”

“Uhm, it was a good friend of mine,” I admonished, my cheeks growing rosier with every word.

“Is this ‘friend’, a girl?” Mary pushed, digging for more.

The crowd froze, their intent eyes zooming in on me just like I imagined the video cameras were. I hesitated for a moment, then nodded my head yes.

An unexpected squeal leaked out of Mary’s mouth, not only surprising us, but the crowd as well. She began waving her hands around with excitement, absolutely giddy.

“Who is this girl?” she implored, nearly jumping out of her seat, then demanding, “Tell us more about her!”

“Uh, well,” unsure of what to say, I glanced at the guys for help.

“Her name’s Jax,” Harry declared, momentarily distracting our interviewer. “She and Niall have been friends over the internet for a long time. Since before we were all on X Factor.”

“Where is she?” she enquired, before turning to the crowd, “Is she in the audience?”

A cacophony of cries and wails erupted; the hundreds of fans’ high pitched screams, piercing through the air as each of them claimed to be the girl I’m friends with. The line of security marched forward, forcing the crowd of girls further away from the stage.

Liam cleared his throat loudly, requesting everyone’s attention. The uproar paused, focusing their attention on the stage once again.

Leaning forward, Liam spoke clearly into his microphone. “Jax is not one of the girls here today because she lives in America. So there is no way any of you would happen to be the girl Niall is talking about,” he finished rationally.

The mob instantly dispersed, returning to a calmer state than just seconds before.

“Hmm, so your girl lives in America, eh?” Mary questioned again, refocusing her attention back on me. “Which state exactly?”

“Uh, I-”

“We’re very sorry, Mary, but Niall can’t give you that kind of personal information,” Liam interrupted, taking the words right out of my mouth.

“Yes, very sorry Mary,” Louis resonated, nodding his head. “That’s top secret information that we aren’t allowed to release to the public,” he conceded, contorting his face to seem almost serious.

“Yeah, quite top secret,” Harry chuckled, lifting his hands and motioning his fingers to quote Louis.

“Okay, I can tell you’re not going to give me any more details,” Mary stated, staring pointedly at me. “So I guess we’ll move on to the interview.”

A sigh of relief passed my lips as I slowly began to relax. It seemed that her pestering was finally over.

Resting my elbows on my legs, I struggled to center my attention on the interview, but couldn’t seem to register anything Mary said. Her words rung low, similar to a deep baritone and they stretched out, almost as if she was enunciating every single letter. Silently, I cursed myself, for wishing earlier that this would be one of our longer interviews.

Honestly, I really didn’t mind the interview; I just wanted it to end so I could read Jax’s text.