Compatible

Victoria is frantically texting on her iPhone, eyebrows furrowed and one hand massaging her temples. She’s trying to calm herself but by the looks of it, it’s not working. We are in the waiting area of Gate 87, thirty minutes until we board our flight to Heathrow, and Kylie is still missing. She let out a frustrated groan and I couldn’t help my giggle escape. Evil, but this is just so terribly amusing. Victoria takes punctuality very seriously, she always triple checks, and make absolutely sure everything and everyone is coordinated with her schedule. So to see her freaking out like this, which by the way comes rarely, is quite the entertainment.

“You think this is funny?” She looked away from her phone for a second to give me a stink eye, but before she can rant about Kylie’s little disappearing stunt her phone rang and she walked away from me.

Last time I heard from Kylie was when she and Jordan were about to go up to the mountains for New Years’ Eve, she mentioned something about keeping the fire burning. And while she was being the best girlfriend ever, I was at home New Year’s Eve watching, take a guess, New Year’s Eve. I could have went to New York to celebrate but I’ve realized on one lazy afternoon, while I was three-fourths through my coffee, that I needed a change in my life. Nothing in particular, but maybe not getting drunk at some of my model friends’ loft after the ball drops is a good idea.

The plan was Jordan will drive Kylie to the airport to catch the flight with us. Vic told them to get at YVR an hour and a half before check-in, but after an hour of waiting and still no Kylie, Vic got suspicious and started tracking her down. We still have a day before the first show when we land in London, it’s for rehearsals but I’m not too worried if Kylie doesn’t make it, as long as she gets there on time for the show. And I know she would, we hate disappointing our fans.

“Just talked to Kylie,” Victoria took the seat beside me as she shoves her planner, iPad, and phone into her bag. “She promised to take the first flight in the morning.” I started grabbing my things and followed her to the gate, the attendant haven’t called for boarding yet but if Victoria wants to get on a plane pronto, she will get on a plane.

I was already wrapped in my blanket, headphones on and turned to my side to sleep. We got the entire VIP cabin of the plane to our crew, I can snore, and stretch and be in whatever comfortable position I want without anyone possibly taking pictures and sending it to a tabloid magazine. The two weeks and a half break was good, theres the daily photos of me shopping and doing errands but I wasn’t bombarded by paparazzi. It wasn’t normal, but that’s the closest to normal I can get. And now the thought of going back on tour, especially with One Direction, scares the hell out of me. It will be a paparazzi field day everywhere we go, two times the number of crowds. Victoria talked to us about this, safety precautions and whatnots. But this is what the management wants, the pandemonium. More pictures of us out there, better publicity, more money.

Everybody in this business talk money, they always talk money, obviously that’s what’s making this entertainment world go ‘round. They’re trying to squeeze out as much money as they can out from us, and I understand. This is business, that’s how it works. But sometimes it’s just all too much, and it’s during these quiet times like when you’re trying to sleep in a plane, that you overthink things. When all I really wanted in the first place is to go out there and sing with my best friend on stage, and hopefully inspire some people along the way.

When I woke up the plane was already circling around London, getting ready to land. I hate this part of flying the most, I get worst ear bubble, and I feel like I’m falling, nauseous, and out of breath. I was clutching on my pillow as if my life depended on it. I’m not scared of flying, I’m scared of landing.

Victoria was already on her phone once the wheels of the plane touched the ground, and I was still, well, holding on to my pillow.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we would like to welcome you in London Heathrow Airport. Local time 5:46 PM, January 5, 2013, 7 degree Celsius, slightly cloudy with 60% chance of rain… Almost the same weather back in Vancouver when we left, it’s five degrees warmer here, but close enough with the rain forecast. On behalf of British Airways, have a pleasant evening, and thank you for choosing to fly with us. My heart rate went back down to normal just as the announcement finished.

“There’s about fifty paparazzi outside, and a hundred fans. The van can’t turn around to pick us up from the back gate anymore, they said it’s a freaking one way lane. God, I swear. Britain and their right hand driving, it’s making me insane!” Vic rambled as she grabbed her hand carry from the over head.

“I’m pretty sure one way lanes has nothing to do with right hand driving, Vic.” I said matter-of-factly.

“Not now Raleigh, I’m trying to organize security.” I rolled my eyes at her, not that she saw it, her eyes were glued on her phone. She waved her hand for me to go ahead of her. She’s not even in charge of security and safety matters, but Vic being Vic, she just had to butt in.

I have no problems meeting the fans, I really don’t. But the last thing I want is a stampede either. So when I got out of the gates, sandwiched between four muscular men, I just kept my head down. Despite of the fans’ uproar and the paps’ screaming over each other, I was calm. I mentally made a note to apologize on twitter to the fans at the airport for not stop to say hi.

I’ve always loved London, even as a kid, I was seven when we came here for a family trip. It wasn’t much of a trip, Dad was on his phone doing business as usual, and mom was busy taking pictures to show her socialite friends, not even actually taking in the beauty and history of the place. I fell in love with the city, probably because the weather reminded me of home, it gave me the feeling of familiarity, a home away from home. But what really got me hooked was the buildings’ architecture.

We tend to switch hotels on every trip, this time we’re staying at The Ritz. A bit fancy for my taste, but it’s close to Green Park, and the Buckingham Palace, so that could be fun to sneak off to after the show. I was looking for Kylie and I’s room with Victoria when I saw a certain curly headed boy down the hallway, coming out of a room. I was set on finding our room as fast as I could before he spots us to save myself from a conversation with Harry, but Victoria saw him and called out his name. Damn.

“How was your flight?” He asked as he approach us, with a smile reaching from his ear to ear.

Is he asking me or Victoria? It didn’t matter though, Victoria answered before my head even processed that the question was directed to me, he was looking at me after all.

“Oh terrible, there was turbulence every hour. But Raleigh slept like a baby all the way through, don’t know how she did it, she’s usually very sensitive-“

“Tired.” I cut off Victoria before some unnecessary information comes out of her mouth. ”I was just really tired from the holidays. Aren’t you too Vic? We should find our room.” I gave Harry a forced smile, grabbing Victoria’s wrist and pulling her. But her phone rang, so she had to take it, leaving Harry and I to ourselves.

“What’s your room number?” He asked, breaking the silence. “I’ll help you find it.”

I looked up to him and there it is again, his little smirk forming. “Uh, 1803.” I sheepishly replied.

He walked down a few doors, and stopped. “Here it is.” He said, nodding his head to side to point to the room. “My room is just two doors across, if you’re bored we can hangout, watch a movie, I heard Kylie won’t be here until tomorrow.” He confidently continued.

“Thanks Styles, but I think I'll pass. You know, tour rules.” Now it’s my turn to smirk at him.

“Huh, rumours are you aren’t one to follow the rules” He was now leaning against the door, arms crossed, his green eyes boring at me.

“And were did you hear that?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“People talk, love.”

“Right. Then if I were you I wouldn’t hangout with someone whose name is practically ‘trouble’. We don’t want your good boy act ruined, do we?”

But instead of a comeback he grabbed the key card from my hand, our skin brushing for a second, making my heart jolt. I’ve been mindlessly trying to open the door whilst our conversation, but annoyingly unsuccessful in that. He turned over the key card, inserted it in the slot, and the door beeped.

He left the card in the slot, and looked at me with a crooked grin. He was pretty damn proud of himself for opening a door.

“Good night.” He said as pushed off himself against the door frame, and turned around and walked back to his room. Leaving me stunned in front of room 1803, my heartbeat still racing from that slight touch of our skins.

Just imagine him holding you. Your heart would probably die from convulsion, Ral.



When I woke up mid-afternoon on the day of the concert someone is singing while taking a shower, and that could only be Kylie. I got out of bed and went straight to the washroom to brush my teeth as she was getting out. I tossed her a towel and when I looked up I got the biggest shock of my live. Kylie is blonde.

“What the hell happened to your hair?”

“Hi, nice to see you too. How was your trip? Did you have fun with Jordan? Thanks, Ral.” She sarcastically replied. But when she realized I wasn’t fazed one bit, still completely struck by her hair, she let out a sigh and told me she got it done ombre style. Three-fourths of her hair is blonde, I wouldn’t call that ombre. Ombre is supposed to be one half the colour of your roots, but what do I know, I just sing for a living.

I followed her back to our little sitting area and sat down at the edge of her bed while she dries her now blonde ombre hair.

“Don’t you think it’s nice? Vic liked it.” She asked me, with a bit of concern in her voice.

“It looks good on you, but you kinda look like-“ It looks amazing on her, besides it’s kinda nice people can now distinguish us from each other. Everybody used to think we were twins, same height, same brown hair, and almost the same face shape. The only thing that separated us is she got blue eyes, and I have the boring brown. Plus the fact that she’s naturally slim, not like no-shape-skinny, but with curves that can actually make her pass for a Victoria Secret model. While I’m genetically chubby-curvy, which is a constant pain in the ass. Mostly for my team, Vic always have to be on top of my meal plans, and our trainer spends an extra hour with me just to make sure I stay in the ideal Hollywood shape.

“Don’t even say it.” She warned me. I was going to say she looked like her model cousin, perfect body literally runs in her family, but she absolutely hated that cousin of hers so I just shut my mouth.

Victoria was briefing us on our way down to the hotel lobby about tonight’s schedule. Turns out the boys are already in the arena and did their soundcheck. We would’ve done our soundcheck too but Kylie just landed and we were already behind schedule. There was no point in going to the arena if we’re just waiting there for meet and greets to start. Hence I got to sleep in and we left the hotel quarter pass three.

We went straight to meet and greets when we got at the venue, it’s always fun meeting fans. Kylie and I like to say we take the best meet and greets photos jokingly, but the fans thinks so too and according to the girls we’ve met, One Direction group pictures doesn’t even come close to ours.

Louis and Niall were playing soccer, or football as they call it, while Harry and Liam were just chilling on the couches with phones on their hands and Zayn was no where to be found when we came in the waiting room. Victoria said her greetings to everyone as we entered, and run off to do stage prepping. Kylie sat on the other side of Liam’s couch, leaving me no choice but to sit with Harry.

I don’t have a problem with Harry Styles, I really don’t. I just rather not mix myself into his business. I mean, that’s already too late considering we’re on the same tour, but as much as I could, I would like to distance myself from a boy who can annoy me one second, and send electric shock straight to my cardiovascular the next.

“How was your meet and greet?” Harry asked, so I turned to my right to face him, even if I really didn’t want to. He just looked up from his phone to face me, his curls swished and bounced from his head movement. Suddenly, I had the urge to run my fingers through them.

“It was okay. Yours?” It’s weird having someone to talk to before a concert other than Kylie. It’s usually just the two of us hanging out backstage, it gets pretty chaotic before concerts, people running around everywhere, and the last thing they want is the main act missing, so they’ve begged us to stay put in one room.

“Could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah?”

“I heard a certain Raleigh Harries takes better meet and greet pictures than I do.” He raised an eyebrow, and his cheeky smile forming.

“It’s not a competition when there’s already a winner.” I mockingly told him.

Our conversation was cut short when Louis sat between Harry and I, and made himself comfortable, resting both of his shoulders on the back of the couch.

“We’re throwing a party at Malone’s after the show, you two should come, it’s going to be mental.”

“They play the best tunes there!” Niall excitedly exclaimed.

“Oh, and my girlfriend is coming, she’s a big fan of yours, I promised I would introduce her.” Liam added.

“Tempting…” I started, I was quickly racking my brain for an excuse not to come, but that plan was completely out of the window when Kylie opened her mouth.

“We’re so coming.” Kylie butted in. “Wouldn’t miss the chance to see you boys dancing.” She added jokingly.

I looked at her, hopefully her best friend telepathy working. Because if it is, I’m mentally cussing her out for dragging me into this party. Trust me, I’m all up for some booze and dancing, but I just don’t think it’s a good combination when Harry Styles is around.