The Love Club

I awake relaxed, tucked in a burrito of warm blankets and quilts. I slowly open one eye to the sunlight filtering through the window in the space between the two curtains. Gatsby licks at her paw, promptly ignoring me from where she lays a few inches away from my face.

All in all, it’s an ideal morning. The boys have the day off, which means my responsibilities are few and far between. I should probably get up and do something productive, but I’m having far too much fun laying in bed, so I let out a quiet hum of satisfaction and roll to my other side, shutting my eyes again.

Somewhere in the room, my phone is buzzing quietly, but I choose to ignore it. It’s probably Harry trying to convince me to go for a run with him again, despite the fact that I’m constantly repeating to him physical activity is not my forte.

I’m in the process of falling back asleep when a rapid knocking sounds throughout the room. I start awake, my hands flying out to grasp at whatever is in the vicinity in a panic. Gatsby hisses at me when my right hand settles on her, squeezing a little too tight for her comfort. I apologetically scratch behind her ear before throwing my comforter off and walking over to the door.

“What?” I snap as I glare up at Niall. He pushes his way past me into my hotel room, which seems to be a trend with any member of One Direction who shows up in the hall outside my doorway.

I’m fuming, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he plays with his hands, pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed. Gatsby’s head follows him like a tennis ball at a match.

“What do I do, Mina?”

“You could get out of my room so I can finish sleeping,” I spit at him bitterly, but he waves this away, like my bitterness is a fly to be swatted at before it lands on his ears. I cross my arms over my chest and let out an annoyed huff.

“I didn’t sleep last night. She doesn’t like me.”

I frown. He’s met Tinley once and he’s already distraught.

“Niall, you don’t even know the girl. She doesn’t know you.”

“It’s the principle of it all,” he snaps, and I step back at his short tone. While Niall has always been somewhat impatient, he’s never been so ill-tempered.

I sigh in defeat, running a hand through my messy hair before shutting the door behind me with my foot. The last thing I need is someone watching this scene unfold from the hall, a passerby or a fan leaking Niall’s meltdown to the press.

“Explain to me what this is about,” I plead, crossing back over to my bed. I fall into it, pulling the covers over my lap as I look up at him. Gatsby must be alarmed by Niall’s unusual behavior, because she mews softly before coming to lay down beside my hand. I scratch at her head affectionately, appreciative of her company.

“Girls like me, Mina,” he begins, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “They really like me. And this one, you say she’s the one I hired you to find and she hates me. I’m a joke to her. What do I do?”

“In her defense, she sort of hates everyone,” I offer, but he only glares at me, so I try a different tactic. “Do you want the truth, Niall?”

“Yes!” he cries exhasperatedly, flinging himself backward onto my mattress. Gatsby hops to my lap in surprise, eyes on me as if I allowed this to happen. I ignore her in favor of focusing on the distressed boy band member, who after rubbing his eyes in exhaustion has finally fixed them firmly on my face.

“You’re kind of a dick.”

“What?” he sputters.

I shrug, unashamed.

“There’s a difference between confidence and cockiness, and you’re toeing the line, bud. A girl like that isn’t won over by the smirk and wink routine you tried on her last night. She’s offput by it,” I explain. He rolls over onto his stomach, supporting his upper body on his elbows as he furrows his brows and attempts to hear me out.

“You’re a good guy, Niall,” I continue. “You’ve got a heart of gold and you’re not bad to look at, but you need to try some sincerity. No pretenses, no bullshit, just honesty.”

He sucks in a deep breath, his blue eyed gaze falling from me as he considers what I’m saying to him. Despite the fact that I’ve essentially just insulted him on top of telling him he doesn’t know how to go about approaching a girl, he doesn’t seem angry. Surprisingly, he seems contemplative, which is more than I could have hoped for.

After a few moments, he returns his eyes to me and asks, “So how do you suggest I do that?”

Gatsby looks to me like she’s wondering the same thing. I give her a light squeeze on her back and she purrs, which brings a smile to my face. Niall reaches forward and gives her a good scratch under the chin, and by the way her eyes fall shut, I know she’s enjoying the attention.

“See if you can catch her at the shop this morning. Lay it out on the line, tell her the truth. Convince her to give you a chance in a way that isn’t intimidating,” I tell him.

He cocks his head to one side, wetting his lips before pulling his attention from Gatsby to me.

“I’m beginning to think there’s a reason I hired you, Mina,” he says with a grin. I roll my eyes.

“Good, because I was beginning to doubt it.”

–

Somehow, I find myself at the arena despite the fact that I have the day off. Mitchie is running frantically about to get everything in order for the show tomorrow, and I follow dumbly behind, thinking I might as well have gone on that run with Harry for all the physical activity taking place right now.

Mitchie is certainly a force to be reckoned with as she directs men unloading bulky boxes toward the appropriate merchandise kiosk, checking off items on an infinitely long to-do list and yelling at any of the younger crew members who are slacking off on the job. I admire her greatly for this, feeling empathetic toward the imbiciles she’s surrounded by, but also secretly pleased to know I’m not the only one under so much stress.

For the most part, she ignores me while she tries to get as much done as possible. She takes a few moments between catastrophes to apologize, but I refuse to accept them. Mostly, I’m fascinated by the process in which everything is happening. I’ve never taken the time to watch the stage being set up, or any of the other things that are taking place to prepare for the two-hour show tomorrow evening. I feel as if I’ve stepped into some alternate realm where other people are as hardworking as me, but for once I’m not the one having to take part in it.

It is while I’m standing beside her, watching a man try to carry double his weight in tee-shirts and VIP lanyards as the box breaks open and all the contents spill out, that she announces, “I’m taking my break.” I surpress a smile as I nod in agreement. She more than deserves one at this point.

She mumbles quietly to herself as she double-checks her to-do list, navigating the halls expertly without needing to look. We make our way over to one of the first kiosks near the entrance, and I jump when Mitchie snaps at a girl who is unloading tee shirts and neglecting to sort them into separate sizes. She looks terrified, and I can’t blame her. After dealing with this all morning, Mitchie has a tempermant to her that I have never seen before. Remembering Niall this morning, I wonder if it’s a full moon.

She snatches up her bag and slips the to-do list in a separate tote, packing them both onto her shoulder before leading the way out the doors. She spares me a glance to make sure I’m still with her before pushing her way out of an exit. Here, in the sunlight, she pauses and inhales deeply. I stand beside her, eyeing her amusedly as she stretches her arms and does a twirl.

“Freedom,” she whispers. I laugh at her dramatics.

“What do you want to do for lunch?” I ask her.

“I don’t really care, honestly. Anything edible. I think I’m beginning to get hangry,” she explains. I grin, looping my arm through hers when she offers it a moment later.

“We’ll walk until we find something?” I suggest. She nods.

It’s still misty out today, but it hasn’t rained since early this morning. The streets are damp as we make our way down them, craning our heads this way and that in search of a place to eat. My eyes settle on a pub, and I gesture to it. Mitchie shrugs, indifferent, and I lead the way.

The place is dead in the afternoon, especially this far out near the stadium. It’s dark, but cool, at least. Outside, the humidity is killing me, and I sigh as the cold air radiating from the conditioner hugs my skin.

A hostess is no where to be found, but there is a sign asking us to seat ourselves. I begin to scan the room for place to sit, but Mitchie taps my shoulder and I turn to her. She points to the bar, where two bodies are hunched over with their elbows on the countertop. A blonde, and an unmistakable mop of curls. I sigh.

“It’s 1 p.m. for God’s sake,” I hiss as I stomp over to where Niall is downing a pint. He doesn’t pause in his actions, though his eyes do shift to me.

“And you,” I snap at Harry, who’s grin at my apperance immediately downturns. “Why are you enabling this?”

“I’m not enabling anything! I’m healing a broken heart!” he defends, aghast at my anger with him. I glare at him before turning back to Niall.

“Give me that,” I demand. He downs the rest of his drink before handing me the empty glass.

“Next round’s on her,” he tells the bartender as he strolls past, and I grind my teeth.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I wouldn’t...” Harry warns, but Niall is already turning to me with an icy stare.

“What makes this girl so special?” he asks. “Besides her uncanny ability to be a bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

Niall’s eyes widen when he realizes what he’s just said. A switch has flipped in me and if I was angry before, it’s nothing compared to what I am now. Mitchie is shuffling her feet awkwardly behind me, sensing the change in my demeanor. Harry flinches slightly as I open my mouth to respond.

“That bitch is a human being, Niall. She’s hurting and it’s a defense mechanism. And how dare you call her that because she won’t go on a date with you? I know you and the last girl I set you up with flickered out, but this one is real and she’s in front of you and you need to get your shit together. Don’t ever let me hear you say anything demeaning about another woman ever again, because I swear I will walk. I swear I will.”

Even the bartender pauses in his glass cleaning to stare at me wide-eyed. Mitchie puts a hand on my back, and it occurs to me suddenly that I have just outed myself to her, even if she doesn’t understand the full specifics of it all. Harry has turned away from me, his head hanging out of sight, but I’m fairly certain from the way I can see his back moving that he’s laughing quietly at what I’ve just unleashed upon his bandmate.

Niall is still staring at me dumbfounded, and from lack of anything else to do, I slide the glass over to the bartender and give him a leveled stare that lets him know my Irish friend is cut off. He nods as if I’ve communicated this verbally to him before disappearing through the double doors into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” he finally mutters lamely, before letting his head fall to the wooden bartop. I sigh and feel my jaw muscles clench, then release. With a glance at Mitchie, I take a seat. She follows suit, giving an uncomfortable wave in Harry’s direction. He responds enthusiastically, and I snort at his not-so-subtle attempt to dissapate the tension.

“What happened, Niall?” I ask, my tone softer.

I watch him take a deep breath before pushing himself up off the bar. His face is flushed, and I know I must have been a little late on cutting him off.

“I did what you told me to,” he shrugs. “Didn’t matter.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth,” he sighs. “I’m just so tired of being alone, and you said you think it’s her, and you’re never wrong, so I told her I thought maybe she could be what I was looking for.”

“Then what?”

“She told me to leave.”

I sigh, turning my body on the barstool so I’m facing outward with my elbows supporting my weight on the bar. With my head thrown backward, I’m trying to think this through as the bartender takes Mitchie’s lunch order and Harry gets himself and Niall some fries. I shake my head at him when he turns to me.

We all sit in silence then, two boy band members, a matchmaker, and the merchandise coordinator. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, one of those awful ones with a lame punchline Harry likes to tell.

“I’m going to fix this,” I finally say before pushing up to leave.

“I haven’t eaten yet!” Mitchie sputters, watching in horror as I stand to go.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I respond with a roll of my eyes.

“I haven’t even gotten to talk to you!” Harry follows.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, really. I wanted to talk to you, but you ignore all my calls.”

“Is it not enough that I’m on this tour with you? You also have to constantly be a pain in my ass?”

Harry blinks.

“Yes.”

“It can wait,” I tell him.

“But–“

I already have the door pulled open and am on my way out. I squint at the sunlight through the haze of clouds, the white surrounding the day making it hard for my eyes to adjust. Feeling a hand on my elbow, I turn to face Harry again.

“What?” I practically whine. Harry tries to hold back a smile.

“Do you have dinner plans?”

“No, but I do have priorities and this conversation isn’t one.”

“Will you come to dinner tonight?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I’m caught between simply walking away or saying whatever it is that will shut him up the fastest. Since I know he’d only follow me again if I do the former, I decide on the latter.

“If I say yes will you let me go?”

“Absolutely.”

“Text me what time.”

He grins, flashing me a row of his perfect teeth. I try to keep from verbally cursing at him as I lightly pull my arm from his grasp and head in the general direction of the bed and breakfast.

–

It’s night when I leave the hotel. The temperature has fallen again, and for that I am grateful as I make my way down the street, following my heart quite literally.

She’s closing at the coffee shop, I can feel it as I twist and turn down the blocks, dead set on my final destination. There’s a bench outside, and I plant myself there, silently watching the cars go by. I have to meet Harry in twenty minutes at a restaurant down the road, so I’m wearing one of my better dresses. It’s a navy number, off the shoulder with a cinch at the waist. I’m uncomfortable in these heels, but the restaurant definitely called for them.

Whether the nerves are from what I’m about to do, or from my impending dinner at a fancy restaurant with Harry, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that I want this night over with as quickly as possible so I can go back to the hotel to snuggle with Gatsby.

A moment later, I hear the bell of the door chime as it is open, then firmly shut. I turn to see Tinley there, her dark hair pulled up out of her face. She’s wearing a deep green jumpsuit and her signature winged eyeliner. I wonder if Niall felt as intimidated as I do when I stand and wait for her to notice me. She’s taken half a step before she does, and pauses in her actions.

“What do you–“ she begins to ask, but I cut her off by handing her a white envelope.

I do so without a word, staring her dead in the eye as it passes from my hands to hers. She takes it tentatively, scanning it warily like it might be a bomb.

When she looks back to me, she has questions in her eyes, but I don’t answer them. Instead, I turn and stride down the road, in the direction of the restaurant where Harry is waiting.