The Love Club

Mitchie brought me a lemonade. I’m not sure how she picked it up just in the five minute conversation I had with her when we ran into each other on the lifts this morning, but she somehow sensed I was a little tense.

She’s assuming it’s because this is my first tour and I don’t want to muck it up, and in a sense, that’s true. With a clipboard clutched to my chest with a series of questions and check marks, I’m still not sure I’m going about this the right way, but I have to try.

As I cross my legs in one of the uncomfortable arena seats, I realize how extremely over-dressed I am compared to most people here. In London, pencil skirts and blouses were the norm. It was easy to get away with because everyone in my apartment building was in some sort of career in business. Here, I stand out among sweatpants and tee shirts. My heels are the only ones that make a sound in a sea of Converse.

I sip my lemonade.

The crew has had the stage unloaded since yesterday, this impressive hulk of a thing with a catwalk that extends into the audience. A few crew members are working to finish up what needs to be done arena-wise, like setting up chairs for the floor seats and constructing barricades. Cameras are periodically tested on me, and I frown every time I see my face on the big screen.

The boys have just finished their second sound check, the first having happened yesterday. They’ve run through all their songs, fixing the bits that need to be fixed, but for the most part they’re golden. This isn’t their first rodeo, so they’re more seasoned than one would expect a group of boys in their early 20’s to be.

I pull the clipboard from my chest, reading over the questions I’ve come up with for this “survey” I’m taking in only a few hours. Niall thinks it would be easier just to let the crowds come to us, but I’m not so sure. Just because a girl thinks she’s in love with him doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll find his soulmate in the heaps of fans lining up outside the arena, desperate to catch a glimpse of him. Still, I’ll appease him until proven otherwise.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, peeking at the caller ID. It’s my dad’s name and number, so I swipe my finger across the screen to answer it, eyes scanning the arena to make sure it’s safe for me to talk. Nothing is more annoying than having to cut a conversation short due to incessant hammering on metal.

“Hey, Munchkin. How is South America?”

He doesn’t give me time to even utter a greeting and I find myself smiling. I haven’t even been gone a full week, which is the amount of time I usually go without seeing him. He must have worked himself up that since I’m further away than the short drive from London, time moves slower as well. Still, it’s nice to hear a familiar voice.

“It’s... hot,” I answer truthfully.

“And the tour?”

“Hasn’t really started yet. I’m in the arena right now, they’re finishing setting everything up.”

“Have you met the band?”

I know where he’s going with this, and I’m not sure whether or not I should talk about it or cut him off. I decide to humor him.

“They’re very welcoming,” I answer.

“In what ways?”

“Dad,” I warn, rolling my eyes.

I feel added body heat beside me and my eyes flicker over to what was once a vacant seat only to be met by a grinning Harry, wiping sweat from his face as he watches me amusedly. I frown, all too aware that my father is going on a tangent about the difference between courtship and scheming for one-night stands. I know he’s been reading too many back issues of The Sun to catch up on his One Direction gossip and I want to correct him, but Harry reaches for my lemonade and I’m too busy wrangling it from his hands to bother with telling my dad that the only scheming Harry Styles is capable of is placing a whoopee cushion beneath their head of security’s chair. He’d laughed so hard he doubled over. No one else had bothered to glance in his direction.

“Germs!” I yelp as he pulls the cup out of my hand and lifts it to his lips. I let out a small sigh of relief as he pauses, thinking he’s going to let me win this one. A moment later, he’s popping off the lid and letting the ice and lemonade slide into his open mouth, winking at me as I watch in horror. When he tries to hand it back to me, I decline with a frown.

“It barely touched me, Mina,” he says, but I shake my head.

“I was done with it anyway.”

He rolls his eyes and I know he doesn’t believe me, but he drops it in favor of gesturing to my phone. It’s then that I realize my dad has stopped talking.

“Hello?” I ask.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He sounds annoyed and I know I’ll be in for another lecture later now that he knows I haven’t been listening to a word he has just said.

“No, you haven’t. And I promise you that is not something you have to worry about, dad. ”

Harry quirks a brow, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve lied about being distracted or from the mention of who I’m talking to. Either way, I’m trying hard to focus in on my father and he stands to leave a moment later, gesturing he’ll be back. I nod vaguely.

“I just want you to be careful,” he says, his voice sounding exhausted even through the static.

I’ve never been the type he’s had to worry about, but I know that this sudden distance between us is making him uneasy. In the past, if I’ve ever found myself in a sticky situation, it would be no problem for him to swoop in and save the day. Now, being gone, it’s hitting him that he won’t be able to.

It’s not a discussion I’m ready to have with him. No father wants to hear that his daughter is fine living on her own. So instead, I change the subject to something that is a little more selfish.

“I start looking today,” I offer.

Despite my lack of elaboration, he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“How are you feeling about it?” he asks.

I shrug, though I know he can’t see me. I’m slumping backward into my seat, wishing above all else that I wasn’t wearing a skirt so I could prop my feet up on the chair in front of me. More than anything, I want to disappear into this chair and put off the day’s events, but I’ll settle for some fatherly reassurance.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I tell him truthfully.

I smile when he scoffs.

“Mina, you’ve never not done this. I think it would be impossible for you to fail at this.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

“I’m so far out of my comfort zone. I don’t have a database to turn to, I have to do it all from scratch.”

“Maybe it will be good for you to go back to basics. But even regardless of all of that, you’ve got your luck on your side.”

I sigh, my fingers knotting into my short hair. It’s nice to talk to dad about things like this because he and Felicity are the only ones who really know about my talent, as I like to refer to it. Dad calls it luck, Felicity straight up calls it my superpower.

When I had first told them, I was afraid of what they’d think. The last thing I wanted was for them to think that made their love any less real than it was. On top of that, exactly how mental does it sound for a twelve-year-old girl explaining that she thinks she has the power to sense soulmates and guide them to one another?

Felicity had been easier at accepting it than my dad had. I think she had always suspected something had been off. Dad had grown insensitive to it, but once I pointed it out, he eventually came around to accepting it. My spotless record on the matchmaking front didn’t hurt any.

“Don’t start doubting yourself now, Mina. There’s absolutely nothing to doubt.”

My dad’s assurance falls over me like a warm blanket. I’m feeling much better, which is why I brought it all up in the first place. He’s always been able to talk me down when I needed it, and while I’m still not looking forward to pushing my way through hoards of screaming fans, I’m at least back to feeling indifferent.

Harry appears suddenly at my side again, a new large cup filled to the brim with lemonade. He carefully sets it into the cupholder beside my right hand and I smile a small thanks at him as I tell my dad I have to go, but promise to call him soon. He doesn’t sound like he believes me as he warily wishes me luck and I can’t really blame him. It wouldn’t be the first time I got caught up in the task at hand and forgot to return his call. I’ll sleep easy knowing he’ll call me again in a couple of days, right on schedule.

When I look to Harry, he has his eyes on his phone as he types something quickly into it. I try not to be nosy as I pick up the drink and take a swig, scanning the arena for signs of any other boy band members who might want to annoy me in the next twenty minutes.

“First week is always the hardest.”

He says it quietly, and I have to turn to him to make sure he’s actually spoken and I haven’t just made it up. I’m just about to dismiss it when he finally locks his phone screen and looks up at me with tired green eyes.

“It’s always the hardest for me, anyway. Being away from my family after having spent so much time with them recently.”

I nod as I set the cup back down, not sure how to respond. He doesn’t let silence envelop us for much longer before he asks about them.

He asks it carefully, giving me an opportunity to reject it if I want. A small part of me does want to, my family always having been something I’ve carried around like a secret. I’ve never been close enough to anyone for me to bother mentioning my family, and in a way I feel like it brings me closer to them, that I don’t have to share them with anyone else. At the same time, I think it might be nice to talk about them to someone who has never met them. It offers me a nice little distraction from the hell I’m about to put myself through, so I decide there won’t be any harm in it.

“My dad was my first match,” I start. He raises an eyebrow, impressed, and I laugh.

“My mum died in a car accident when I was seven. It was just me and my dad for a while, and he dated around, but when he found Felicity I wouldn’t let her get away. They live in Oxford now, my dad is a professor at the university and Felicity is a chef for a local restaurant. It works out nicely.”

“No siblings?”

The question comes from behind me, and I’m startled to notice Niall has joined us. I must have been distracted when he made his initial appearance, but Harry doesn’t look surprised to see him at all.

“I’m an only child,” I confirm, twisting my body around so I can see both boys. “What about you?”

The question is directed at both of them and Niall answers first.

“I have an older brother, Greg, and his wife. They just had a kid, my nephew Theo. Both my parents are still around.”

My eyes barely have time to shift before Harry’s speaking.

“My parents are divorced, but mum re-married. I have one sister, Gemma.”

“Quite a bit of family for the both of you,” I say, though I’m unsure as to why. I suppose it’s to diffuse the bit of tension that is hanging in the air, and the sad looks they both have on their faces while they watch me.

When I say it all at once like that, it makes me seem a lot more pathetic than I really am. No mother, no friends, just my dad and stepmum. It’s why I put so much time into work. Usually it’s not something that bothers me or even anything I consciously think about. It’s always been this way for me, but for some reason whenever I mention it to others, they look at me like a kicked puppy.

“Sounds like your dad really loves you,” Harry offers.

“He worries too much,” I sigh as I gather my things and force myself up out of my seat.

“Where are you going?”

The question comes from Niall and I send him a glance over my shoulder as I step out into the stairway that leads up and out of the stadium.

“I have work to do, remember?”

I gesture to my clipboard before starting up the rest of the steps. Both boys are left dumbfounded in my wake, but all this talk about our personal lives has me more interested in getting this whole undercover “survey” thing done and over with as soon as possible.

-

By the time the concert rolls around, I’m exhausted. I feel like a field researcher, collecting data on the daily goings on of South American fangirls.

Only five have passed round one.

Of course, this is only Argentina. There are far too many stops on this tour for me to get far, but in three hours, only five hopefuls have gone well enough for me to bother collecting phone numbers for future contact.

I think I’m supposed to be backstage right now, talking to Niall about my findings, but I’m so far exhausted that I can’t fathom making my way back to the arena, pushing through throngs of fans in order to talk to him for five minutes before he goes on stage.

No, after what I’ve just done, he can damn well come to me.

Gatsby mews a greeting as I push open the door to my hotel room, stumbling in as I blindly reach for a light switch. My heels are dropped to the floor carelessly, having taken them off in the lift on my way here. The first chance I get, I have to do some serious casual clothes shopping. Heels aren’t going to cut it for three hour sessions interviewing girls to be set up on a date with a pop star. My feet are practically bleeding and my calves are throbbing in pain. Bring on the Converse.

I move to my suitcase, digging through it until I find a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sleep shirt. My next stop is the bathroom to rub off all remains of make-up.

Gatsby is waiting for me at the head of the bed when I finish these tasks. Her right leg is perfectly poised in the air as she bathes herself with her sandpaper tongue, eyes focused on me like she’s daring me to make a comment. I’m too tired to get into an argument with my cat, so instead I flop down on the side of the bed she’s not occupying and grab the remote, flipping through channels until I find one that broadcasts in English, albeit heavily accented English.

I don’t truly intend to fall asleep, but that is what I’m doing when I hear pounding on my door. I let out a loud groan, turning on my side to glance at the alarm clock. It’s 12:34 AM South America time. It’s only a four hour time difference, but that combined with the physical exertion in the heat today has me so tired I can’t tell left from right.

Somehow, I manage to make my way through the dark to open the door, squinting at the harsh light that greets me. When my eyes adjust, I see Niall standing there, arms crossed like he’s angry at me.

“You were supposed to come by before the show,” he tells me, pushing his way into my room. Once he’s a few feet in, he pauses and turns to me.

“Were you sleeping?”

It falls from his mouth like an accusation, as if sleeping is the dirtiest thing I could have done to him. He’s appalled as he turns on the lamp beside my table and takes a seat in the space I’d been fast asleep in just moments before. His hand absently reaches for Gatsby, who softly meows in surprise at the sudden movement. Niall doesn’t seem to care as he sets her on his lap and begins to pet her. A moment later, Gatsby’s eyes fall shut again and she’s purring.

“Can we discuss this in the morning?” I plead between stifled yawns. With him on my bed, I’m leaning against the wall, my head resting on my shoulder as I fight to stay awake long enough to kick him out.

“How did it go?” he asks instead, and I try not to huff in annoyance. He is, after all, paying me. I suppose it’s only natural that he’d want to hear what happened.

“It went fine, Niall. I found five girls to do further research on. Now will you please get out of my room?”

“Only five?”

I throw my arms down from where they’ve been crossed tightly over my chest. My eyes narrow, anger surging through my veins.”

“What do you mean only five?”

He shrugs, eyes falling to my cat curled up on his lap.

“Just doesn’t seem like a lot,” he mutters.

“This is what I do, Niall. I’m trying to find you a soulmate here. If you wanted a one night stand, you wouldn’t have to be paying my salary, would you?”

I’ve known this boy for less than a week, but here I am standing here and snapping at him like I’ve known him my whole life. I’ve never had a brother, but I imagine this is what it feels like to have a little one.

Or five.

He keeps his face composed as he eyes me up and down. Niall doesn’t look surprised that I’ve gotten cranky with him, but he doesn’t look thrilled about it either. I’m being somewhat difficult, at least in his eyes, with my refusal to go into this any way but what is definitively my own. I’m not sure what he’s working himsef up to as far as reactions to my behavior goes, and honestly I don’t know if I’m hoping to be fired or brushed off, but he does neither. Instead, he looks to the floor and says, “Your feet are swollen.”

As if I didn’t already know.

“I need to go shopping when we land in Brazil,” I tell him, trying to hide the anger that is still present in my tone of voice.

“I probably should have warned you when I hired you that professional attire wouldn’t be necessary. It’s my fault.”

It’s an olive branch that I eye suspiciously before accepting.

“For someone who just spent the better half of their evening bouncing around a stage, you don’t look tired,” I comment.

He shrugs as his fingers move behind Gatsby’s ears. She lets out an enthusiastic purr as she rubs her head against the friction. He’s smiling as he watches her.

“Adrenaline. Keeps me up after most shows.”

I nod in understanding as I move to sit at the foot of my bed, crossing my legs beneath me as I watch him and Gatsby get better aquainted. House Hunters International is playing on the TV behind me from where I left it on before falling asleep earlier.

“Look, I want to apologize.”

My eyes flicker to Niall and he’s watching me.

“Apologize for what?”

“I haven’t been the most sensitive to your situation. I guess I forget sometimes that the way we live is unusual when viewed from another perspective. I know I’m not like your other clients and I know you’re uncomfortable with traveling, so it’s not really fair of me to not give you an adjustment period before throwing you into the thick of things. I’m impatient with you because I’m paying you for a service, but you have to perform under unusual circumstances, and I’m sorry for not cutting you any slack as of late.”

When I had arrived at Niall’s door last night, I was better put together but not fully okay. He had noticed, I could see it in his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from making me come up with some sort of game plan for how all of this would take place. Harry had sat quietly in the corner arm chair, sending Niall disapproving glares up until the moment I announced I was leaving to go to bed. Harry had stayed behind, and I’m not sure what had been spoken between the two, but I had a feeling it must have had something to do with the apology that was taking place right now.

“It’s fine, Niall. You hired me to be a professional, it’s what I should be doing.”

He’s shaking his head as he picks Gatsby up and places her back in her previous position on the pillow beside him. She looks upset with this loss of contact, eyeing him for a few moments before sticking up her nose and curling back up into a ball.

“No, it’s not fine. I was being insensitive to you, but I’m going to try to be better about it. I, of all people, should understand what it’s like to be thrown into something with no preparation. You must feel like you’re in completely over your head and I haven’t done anything to help you, but I want to. I want to be your friend, Mina. So if you want to talk about anything, even if it doesn’t involve this whole matchmaking thing, I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” I say, biting down on my lip. He nods, but says no more as he stands and makes his way to the door.

“I’ll let you sleep. We have another flight to catch in the morning.”

With that, he’s gone.

Reaching over, I turn off the lamp and switch off the TV with the remote. Gatsby paws her way over to me, curling into my side, and I let my eyes fall shut as I pet her softly.