Backfire (Niall Horan)

I want to apologise for any mistake you might find, I'm still learning and I know I have to improve a lot. I also want to say sorry if I'm using any idiom in the wrong way. I'm not American nor British, and sometimes I don't know which slang belongs to which country.

Chapter dedicated to my beloved friend Abbey for being so awesome and for promoting me. Love you, girl!

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Chapter 3 ― Not a fan

“I can’t believe we just met One Direction,” Phebs blurted out when we were in the car driving to our home. It was a beautiful and lovely house that the three of us shared.

“Come on, it wasn’t such a big deal. You don’t have to act like you just met the queen,” I snorted rolling my eyes. Belle turned around to look at me murderously.

“I know you don’t like them–”

“I do like them, I’m just not a fan of their music. That’s all,” I interrupted my friend to leave that point clear.

“If you say so. What I was saying, you’re not a fan, regardless, they are mega famous and millions of girls would die to have this chance. Come on, Alex, you have to accept that it is a big deal. You don’t make friends with celebrities every day,” Belle stated.

“I don’t know you, but I have a very interesting life and I’ve met plenty of celebrities,” I said, the sarcasm very evident. My friends laughed even when I looked so serious. “Okay, okay. You’re right, but you better get over it ‘cause I don’t want the two of you acting like obsessive fangirls when we see them again.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll behave ourselves,” Phebs promised and I smiled proudly. Those were my friends, always good girls. “But I want to remind you of what you said yesterday: you’re done with lads. So no flirting or anything. Got it, missy?”

“I don’t flirt!” I protested jumping on my seat.

“Oh you do flirt, Alex. Today you just were flirting shamelessly with Zayn,” Belle supported Phebs.

“No, I didn’t! We were just talking,” I defended myself. I didn’t like Zayn, though I found him attractive, but, again, he wasn’t the kind of guy I used to date. Besides, we were talking about tattoos, for God’s sake, that wasn’t flirting.

“Okay, if you say so, but what about Niall?” Belle asked and I tensed. “The way he looked at you and the way you did back… hmm, I don’t know you, but it seemed that there was something going on there.”

“No, nothing,” I said softly and avoided her glance. Niall wasn’t my style either and I would never think about dating a guy like him, but he had something that moved something inside of me. What? I didn’t know yet nor why, maybe it was his eyes, I meant, those blue eyes were pretty stunning, or that sweet smile, or maybe that accent or even his energy and sense of humour. He was a nice guy, funny and cute, very likeable, but I didn’t see myself with him in any way. Nevertheless, I was done with lads so even if he were my style, I wouldn’t date him anyway. “You’re just seeing things that are not there. I told you, I’m done with lads, so stop it, okay?”

“I said it yesterday and I’ll say it again: that shit is gonna backfire on your face, sweetie,” Belle promised with Phebs nodding approvingly next to her. I just crossed my arms and sat back, rumbling about my annoying and stubborn friends. Even though, I heard something inside of me telling me to be careful, but I decided to ignore it.

* * *

Late that night I got a text from Niall –whom I gave my number in the restaurant– saying that we should be at the entrance of the venue where they were performing in two days, four hours before the show started. Supposedly, they were going to meet us there with the VIP pass and then, inside, they were going to give us the tickets. First row.

I wasn’t excited at the beginning, but then my friends starting to get more and more excited and, obviously, I did too. By the day of the concert I felt like a fan, too. Belle and Phebs trained me listening to their songs and learning the lyrics, but I sucked at that, I just could remember the chorus of each song. They accepted that it was going to be the best they could get out of me.

They got dressed very pretty and tried to make me use something different, but I refused and decided to wear my combat boots, shorts, a black t-shirt of Bon Jovi and a red plaid shirt that were my dad’s. My messy hair was like usual, but I liked it that way, it had this rockstar thing.