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During The X Factor (One Direction)

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I’m home! Come round, now! X

Harry’s text comes through at half past six. I’m outside his house within ten minutes, loaded with mum’s chocolate fudge cake wrapped up in a blue box. She was about to add a piece of heather to the top ‘for luck’ but I had shot out of the house before she had the chance.

I ring the doorbell and am greeted almost instantly by Harry’s mum, overly pleased to see me.

After giving me a small hug she takes the box from my hands and peeks inside, “That looks delicious! Oh, she didn’t have to do that…tell Rose we said thanks.” She smiles at me and heads for the kitchen.

I take myself into the living room where I find each seat occupied by a member of Harry’s family, and then in the middle, Harry himself.

“Chazza!” he shouts when he sees me in the doorway.

“Hazza!” I shout back as he runs across the room to greet me. I squeal when he picks me up and spins me around in the hall. Once he’s stopped trying to crush my ribcage and I’ve finished laughing I manage to congratulate him on getting through.

“Thanks! I’m so happy!” he said grinning broadly and doing a little jig, “Oh, I need to show you something!” he announces, still smiling like a Cheshire Cat, dragging me by the wrist back into the living room.

He takes me to the corner of the room where his grandma is sitting, peering down her nose at the ‘modern hi-tech thingimajig’ in her hand.

“Ah, Harry, dear! Is this your little friend?” she asks as if we’re both five years old. Before I can introduce myself she’s off again, “I can’t seem to work your phone, Harry…the screen’s gone blank!”

“Here…” Harry says leaning over and pressing a single button. The screen lights up and his grandma adjusts her glasses.

“Aww, they look like such lovely boys!” she exclaims.

I look at her puzzled, firstly thinking he’s just showing her one of the more decent photos from our recent school trip to the lakes. I try and get a glimpse of the screen but Harry snatches it away before I can and dashes upstairs and into his bedroom.

“Jeez, Harry,” I say after following him into his bedroom and glancing around, “You’ve been gone a week! How did your room get so messy?!” with the tip of my fingers I lift a scrunched up shirt from the dresser and throw it at him.

Laughing, he throws it back at me and I dodge it, letting it fly through the door and land somewhere downstairs. When I look back he’s busy at his computer fiddling with wires and his mobile phone.

I plonk myself down on his bed and lie amongst the mess strewn across it. Sometimes when you’re really close with someone, you don’t need to speak all the time. You can easily sit and do nothing for hours, not feeling the slightest bit awkward. It proves you’re truly great friends.

A couple of minutes later I’m flicking through a random book (why Harry has a book on his bed, I do not know) that I found beneath a pile of newly ironed clothes.

“Check this out,” he shows me the computer screen where I can see five boys huddled together on some stone steps. Amongst them I see Harry and I smile.

“Who…” I start to ask, but then look at him and scream, “They put you in a band!?”

“Hell yeah!” he screams back.

I hug him and congratulate him again and again and again until he deliberately squeezes my lungs together so I can’t anymore. He sits back down and tells me about each boy in turn. He tells me how the one named Zayn refused to dance, and how one called Louis wouldn’t stop dancing.

I don’t know any of these four boys personally, but I laugh along with Harry all the same because I just love seeing that smile lighting up his face. He’s my best friend and I love when he’s happy, so I let him talk and talk about his new friends and his plans for the band for nearly half an hour.

“Cake, anyone?” Harry’s mum glides into the room carrying two huge slices of my mum’s cake and hands the one covered with ice cream to Harry and the other to me.

“Why don’t you stay over tonight, Chaz?” she asks me. Harry’s parents don’t mind when Harry’s friends stay over, especially when it’s me. Almost always it’s just because we lost track of time and it’s suddenly half past nine at night, so I immediately curl up on one of the couches downstairs under a spare duvet as if it’s totally natural to do so. 

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