The Love Club

I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen this many digits on a paycheck.

It’s the first one of the tour, and my eyes keep flashing to it, despite my best efforts to pay attention to the girl on my computer screen. She has long, black hair and dark skin, piercing brown eyes squinting at me through a webcam. She’s gorgeous, to say the least, and I’m holed up in my hotel room, Skyping to get to know her.

Mariana had stood out to me in the sea of girls waiting in a que to get into the concert. There was something about her drawing my feet forward, a good sign when it came to matching two people.

This feeling tends to crop up a lot around me. Just because I feel drawn to someone, doesn’t mean they’re necessarily the person I’m looking for. It usually tends to mean they’d be compatible if I were to weild some cupid magic and will them together, not that they’re soulmates.

That feeling is much too strong to confuse.

Mariana has outstanding English, and she blushes when I tell her so. Her father does business with American companies and he’s been teaching her and her brothers since they were little. She has a row of perfect teeth that she displays every so often when I ask her a question pertaining to something she’s passionate about, like traveling or her family.

All in all, she seems compatible with the Irish one, but I don’t think it’s a match. Still, it would give Niall something to do while I keep my search going, so I ask for her phone number and promise I’ll be in touch soon. She still doesn’t really know what this whole ordeal is about, but I plan on reporting my findings to Niall before revealing the whole thing anyway.

I shut my laptop with a sigh, throwing my body backward on the bed as Gatsby rubs her head against my fingertips, hoping I’ll get the hint. Absentmindedly, I start scratching behind her ears and recieve an appreciative purr as I run my finger along the edge of paper containing my salary.

I’ve been like this all day, fed up by Niall’s constant glances of anticipation. The last few stops on the tour, I decided to go rogue. I thought maybe if I wasn’t finding a girl in the hordes outside the hotels and arenas, I might have better luck searching public places like malls or restaurants. Unfortunately, this hasn’t yielded any real results and despite his best intentions, Niall has become antsy. The added searches have also doubled my work load, leaving me more drained than ever.

The task is looking impossible to me still, and as I deftly run my fingers beneath Gatsby’s chin, I’m feeling hopeless. It seems I’ll be on this tour longer than originally intended, and I’m praying for reprieve on the European leg of the tour. God forbid I stick around for America, which is in three months.

My phone vibrates on the side table beside me, a call coming in. The caller ID says its Niall and I sigh before reaching over and answering it.

“What are you doing?” he asks immediately, and I bring a hand to rub my eyelids where they’re feeling heavy. Technically, today is my day off, but I knew if I didn’t start Mariana’s interview, I would procrastinate it until it was too late.

“I’m laying in bed,” I answer honestly.

In the background, I hear a few shouts. He’s at the venue right now, probably holed up and anxious as the doors open to fans.

“Come to the arena,” he suggests. I raise an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored,” he whines. “Harry isn’t here to keep me entertained, and Louis and Zayn are ignoring me.”

I tilt my head to one side as I sit up on my bed. Gatsby mews at me, upset by the sudden lack of contact as I shift my weight.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He and Liam went to Machu Picchu today and they’re not here yet.”

“Why didn’t you go?” I question, surprised that as adventurous as Niall is, he’d pass up an opportunity to sight see.

I can practically feel him shrugging via the phone when he answers, “It’s really hot out there.” A pause, then, “And I was hungover this morning.”

I roll my eyes as I glance at the time on the clock.

“I’m not properly dressed.”

“If you don’t want to come, you can just say so,” he grumbles back, obviously annoyed with me.

“It’s not that...”

“Look, if you’re worried I’m going to ask you to do something on your day off, don’t. We don’t have to talk about it. I could just use the company and you’ve never seen one of our shows, so I thought I’d offer.”

The gesture is sweet, I have to admit. Niall’s been doing his best to be friendly toward me, but he hasn’t quite mastered that balance between signing my paychecks and being a friend. Still, he’s trying his damndest and I find myself agreeing to be there as soon as I find something to wear.

I’ve never really been into the whole concert scene, let alone the boy band scene, and I know the combination of the two at once will probably be a bit of a shock to my system. I rummage through my suitcase for something suitable to wear, but come up empty, so I settle for a pair of high waisted dress shorts, a silky tank top, and a blazer. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I run my fingers through my short hair and deem myself at least somewhat presentable.

The arena is a twenty minute walk away, but I don’t really mind. I’m used to the humidity, though the heat is still offputting. I can’t imagine what it must feel like here in the summer months.

After a few blocks, I’m no longer alone. Traffic is backing up and there are groups of teenagers walking at fast paces, huddled together and speaking excitedly as they head in the direction of the now open doors. A few of them spare glances my way, as if wondering either why I’m alone or why I’m dressed the way I am.

I’m going somewhat against the grain when I hit the sidewalk surrounding the complex. The employee entrance is around back, near the guarded hub where the blackened SUVs are waiting. I weave through groups of people, approaching a surly security guard standing beside a set of metal double doors. I smile at him, but he looks as unimpressed by me as he is with the twenty or so other girls who have collected around the entrance, sweet talking in an attempt to be let in.

Instead of trying to convince him I’m with the band (quite literally), I pull my VIP lanyard and ID card from the pocket of my blazer and hand it over. The guard squints at it, scanning over its contents, before handing it back and pulling open the door for me. I try to ignore the sudden interest in me that this has caused in the crowd of girls who are now watching in awe.

Instantly, I’m swept into a flurry of people, hustling from one room to the next in a desperate attempt to make sure everything for the show is prepared. It’s moments like this, when I’m standing still and watching dozens of people frantically rush around, that I remember why I’ve been avoiding this exact spot for the last two and a half weeks.

I hear my name called and my head snaps up. Niall is poking his head around a door, grinning at me like I’m exactly the person he’s been looking for (and I may be just that). I start in his direction, doing my best to stay out of the current of frantic last minute preparations.

“It’s about damn time,” he tells me, stepping aside so I can enter. “What did you do? Walk here?”

I don’t bother to reply, which is answer enough. I hear him mumbling disapprovingly behind me as I make my way further into the dressing-room-turned-arcade. Louis and Zayn are mid-video game, their avatars on the screen playing each other in a football match. They’re cursing each other and laughing and standing up to cheer when they each make a goal. Each greet me briefly before returning their attention to the TV screen, and when Niall passes me rolling his eyes, I understand why he’s feeling ignored.

He plops down on a small loveseat, scooting over to make room for me. I take the seat beside him, watching as he picks up his guitar and strums mindlessly on it, frowning in the direction of his bandmates.

“I think I found you a date,” I blurt, if only for something to talk about. His head snaps in my direction and he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Her name is Mariana. I found her in Argentina. She’s gorgeous, speaks fluent English, is currently attending uni and working toward a degree in international relations. Loves her family, open-minded, wants to travel.”

Niall tilts his head to one side, nodding as I list off this information. He’s still playing the guitar, but it’s quieter now as he listens to me speak. After a moment, he sends me a toothy grin.

“Sounds perfect. When do we meet?”

I hesitate.

“Well, I wanted to clear her with you first. She doesn’t really know what all this is about.”

He frowns in my direction.

“You haven’t told any of the girls what this is all for?”

“What? Do you want me to shout into the crowd that Niall Horan is looking for a girl to marry? I’d suffocate in a sea of hysterical teenage girls. And besides, you told me you didn’t want any of this leaking to the press. I’m trying to be discrete.”

“You should at least tell the girls you’ve been talking to,” he argues, but I have the feeling it's more for argument’s sake. He’s stubborn, but he knows I’m right.

“I will tell her,” I insist. “When I call her to set up the date.”

Niall nods, letting the subject drop as he returns his attention to the guitar. Zayn and Louis are still in a heated debate over who is the best at imaginary football, and I don’t bother to pay any attention to them. Instead, I’m focused on the sudden surge of noise outside. When I turn to glance over my shoulder, Niall assures me it’s the opening act making their way to the stage.

“Shouldn’t Liam and Harry be back by now?” I ask.

Niall shrugs like he doesn’t care, but his eyes are darting to the clock every so often. I shift my weight uncomfortably, pulling out my phone if only to look busy. In reality, I’ll probably be desperately scrolling Twitter.

“Mina, can I ask you something?”

The question comes from Louis, and I look up at him, somewhat startled. He’s still engrossed in what he’s doing on the TV, but by the look on Zayn’s face, he’s winning and Louis is about to quit.

“Sure,” I answer, sending a wary glance Niall’s way. He’s eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Why do you always dress like you’re going to an interview?”

I let out a soft chuckle, somewhat relieved to have something lighthearted to talk about with the boys. A moment later, Zayn has won another round of FIFA and Louis is setting down his controller, pointedly ignoring Zayn’s cheers of victory as he leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees, hands clasped together with eyes focused on me. I shrug before answering.

“I want to project a professional image,” I tell him, then pause. “And I’ve noticed that the better I dress, the better my day usually goes.”

“But if you dress well all the time, doesn’t that make all your days great? How do you distinguish a good day from a bad one?”

He’s somewhat teasing me now and Zayn rolls his eyes, but I don’t really mind. Truthfully, the playful conversation makes me feel somewhat more accepted.

“It’s business attire, Louis. Not a Superwoman suit. Obviously there are exceptions.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, but the door bursts open, Harry stumbling in the door after Liam, both of them out of breath.

“About time,” Zayn says, glancing up from his phone for only a moment to send them disappointed glares.

“Bit of a hike, innit?” Liam shoots back, heading straight for a table where snacks and drinks are set up. He grabs a Powerade and downs half of it in one gulp.

He looks somewhat exhausted, but he’s at least showered since getting back. I speculate this might be the reason why they’re both running late, and this is only confirmed when my eyes land on Harry’s damp curls. At first, he doesn’t register my presence in the room, but a moment later his gaze settles on me and he grins.

“Mina!” he calls, crossing the room in a few easy strides only to sit down beside me. I scoot over on the overcrowded sofa to make room and Niall lets out an unamused sound at the sudden lack of breathing room. Harry doesn’t seem to mind as he throws his arm over the back of the couch.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks. “Miss me?”

I snort and Niall rolls his eyes, answering simply, “I invited her.”

“You did?” he seems somewhat surprised, which only offends Niall.

“Well, I thought someone should. She hasn’t caught any of our shows yet.”

Harry only shrugs, not bothered by this fact.

“I was waiting to see how long it would take you to come around,” he whispers to me conspiratorially. “Figured my good looks and charm would wear you out eventually.”

I don’t hesitate to shove him hard in the arm. He barely moves an inch, but looks like he appreciates the gesture. I scowl at him, but this only makes his smile widen.

The door opens again, and we all turn to see who it is. An unimpressed looking woman takes a head count and nods to herself.

“You’re all here. Good. You’re needed to start vocal warm ups.”

Harry groans beside me, his head falling backward on his shoulders. “I just got in, Laura!” he calls. She looks entirely bullshit proof as she crosses her arms over her chest. Harry takes in her stance and sighs, sitting up as Niall sets down his guitar and finds a way to his feet.

“We can find you a seat in the crowd if you’d like,” Niall offers. “Or you could just hang out backstage and watch from there.”

The latter sounds much more appealing to me than standing awkwardly alone in a sea of pre-teen girls, so I opt for that choice. He doesn’t seem at all surprised as he summons a member of the crew and asks him to escort me to wherever it is I need to be.

I can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when I realize the only people I actually know on this tour are going to be on stage and completely unavailable to me for the next few hours. Even Mitchie will be busy with overseeing the sales of merchandise. I feel completely alone, and I try to bite back the panic that is beginning to form deep in my stomach.

Harry glances to me as he makes his way out of the room, sending me a reassuring smile like he knows I’m working myself up. I do my best to muster up one to return to him, but he’s disappeared around the corner by the time I’ve managed it.

–

It’s feels so very strange to see this side of One Direction. It feels even weirder to refer to the boys like that, some sort of vague grouping of the individuals I’ve been getting to know in the last few weeks. It’s almost like there’s two of them; the five boys who had collapsed in a heap on my hotel room floor the first night of tour, and the five boys hopping about on stage and hyping up a crowd of 75,000. Watching them is surreal.

I hate to admit that I know the words to most of their songs. I’m not really sure how, it’s not something I’ve ever actively persued, but I realize that I must have been hearing a lot of it surrounding the tour itself, even if it’s only because Liam is humming it in the elevator on the way up to our hotel floor or Niall strums it absently on his guitar when he’s bored.

There’s a part of me that has acknowledged on some level the amount of talent and dedication they all must have, but seeing it in action is something else entirely. It’s awe-inspring, truly. The way they manage to goof around on stage but still hit every note flawlessly, the reaction the crowd has to their every move, the sort of one-on-one interaction they try to have with the fans closest to them; it’s all sort of amazing.

Occasionally, one of their gazes will fall on me, and I do my best to look enthused without seeming embarrassing, standing alone and nodding along to whatever they’re singing. I’m the recipient of many a wink and grin, but it doesn’t help the intimidation I feel watching from the shadows.

The show happens surprisingly fast, and before I know it, I’m scooting to the side as I watch the boys jog in my direction, giving the crowd one final wave before squeezing past me. Even with my back against a speaker case, I can feel the body heat they radiate when they move past, a sheen of sweat covering each of them. I politely hold back the urge to wrinkle my nose at the overwhelming smell of physically exerted boy.

Another member of security detail motions for me to follow and I do so without a word, glad to have someone to lead the way through the confusing twists and turns of the hallways. I thought before the show everyone had been in a tizzy, but that was nothing compared to the amount of crew members rushing toward the stage to pack up instruments and equipment.

I thank the man as he pauses outside the dressing room, gesturing that this will be my stop. He smiles back at me before disappearing into the crowd. Hesitantly, I push open the door and peek in, afraid of what I might be met with, and within reason, because everyone is in their boxers but no one seems to care when they glance at me. I try to hide my blush, closing the door quietly behind me.

“What did you think, Mina?” Zayn asks, calling across the room.

I smile and shrug indifferently as I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, trying to act as coy as possible. Why, yes. I do spend a lot of time closed up in rooms with world-famous boy band members in their underwear. It’s totally casual.

“You guys were all right.”

“Your grin was practically blinding, Mina. You’re not fooling anyone,” Harry tells me with a lopsided smile.

“Maybe,” I allow after a moment of thought. “But your ego doesn’t need to hear it verbally.”

He rolls his eyes, all dimples as he pulls a shirt on. I try to casually look away, but Niall is watching me with that narrowed glance he gave me on the plane, and I find myself pulling out my phone and nonchalantly checking the time.

“It feels so late,” Liam comments, looking from me to the clock on the wall.

“I’m knackered,” Louis agrees.

“What?” Harry asks. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I agree absentmindedly.

“We ate before the show,” Niall shrugs. Harry glares at him, offended.

“Well I didn’t. What about you, Liam?”

Liam raises his head from where he’s been searching for his sneakers. “I think I’m more exhausted than hungry, mate,” he says.

Harry frowns, and then something clicks in him and he turns to Niall.

“Wait, you didn’t feed Mina?”

My eyes snap up from my phone to watch the interaction happening as Niall looks guitily over at me. Harry looks like he can’t decide if he’s angry or disappointed.

“Honestly never crossed my mind,” he answers after a moment, biting down on his lip. “Sorry,” Niall apologizes a moment later.

I want to tell him I’m more unhappy with Harry treating me like I’m something to be taken care of than with Niall’s lack of consideration for my dietary needs, but I don’t have time. Harry already has his slender fingers wrapped around my wrist as he pulls open the door and drags me with him. I let out a small yelp of protest, but he either doesn’t hear it or acknowledge it as he sends one last glowering look to the rest of his band before shutting the door behind him.

Only when we’re safely in the hallway, does he release me, tsking his tongue as he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” I grumble. “I can take care of myself.”

“If you don’t tell them what they’re doing wrong, they’ll never learn,” Harry replies, somewhat jokingly.

“Exactly. So maybe next time you can ask me to get food with you before pulling me out the door.”

His green eyes flicker over to my face and he presses his lips together before speaking again.

“But you are hungry.”

I don’t deem that worthy of an answer. Instead, I keep my focus ahead of me as we push out of the building through the same set of double doors I came in through. A black SUV is waiting and Harry pulls open the door for me. After sending him one last sharp look, the best I can muster, I slide in and scoot over so he has room beside me. He gives the driver directions before he settles back into his seat.

A few moments of silence, and then, “I’m sorry.”

When I turn to him, he looks sincere enough. I can feel something within me soften at the sight of his face, and though I’m unhappy with letting him off the hook so easily, I can’t really help myself. So I only sigh and roll my eyes before playfully kicking him with my shoe. When I go to look back out the window, I can see his dimpled smirk illuminated in the light his phone is giving off, reflected in the smooth surface of the tinted window.