The Ticking Clock [h.s.]

Chapter 1

Not the clock that will take me to heaven, but the clock that will tell me when I have met the love of my life, my soulmate. The weird thing is is that I have to touch the person I am meant to be with, so I could have seen them somewhere on the streets, but had no idea how important they are in my life. I have three weeks left and I couldn't be more nervous. What if the person isn't who I have been imagining for my whole life? This questions continues to circle as I make my way back to my flat in Highpark. I have worried and worried for years, unsure of what the future holds.

I guess you could say that I have always been like this. I stress and create anxiety about something that I exaggerate in my head. I just want it to be perfect. My life, I mean. I want to fall head over heels for someone who does the same for me the first time our eyes lock.
I shake the worries out of my head as I reach the coffee shop down the road from my flat to get tea for my flatmate, Megan. She is obsessed with tea. She fits in here, while I stick out as the only one in the country who only drinks hot chocolate. Megan says that's what makes me me and it is quirky and adorable. I don't know if I believe her.

Megan is my best friend. She keeps me grounded and takes me out of my own head. She laughs and loves like the world has never hurt her, even though it has crushed her into millions of pieces. She is also from America, but she is originally from Canada, so she's basically British in most of her actions. When I moved to London, I moved in with her because she had been living her for several months to be the CEO of Tom Ford's design company.

As I walk into the apartment, her and her cat meet me at the door of our third-story flat. She loves cats as much as tea and screams when she sees I'm holding tea. I shake my head as I give her the tea. "Thank you boo," she practically yells as she gives me a hug. "How was your nature walk through your own neverland?" I respond with a simple, "nerve racking, but got some pictures for my blog. Don't give me that look." I notice she rolls her eyes as she almost says what she has said a million times before, that I need to get out of my own head and enjoy the next few weeks.

She shoots back. "Okay, but you need to get pumped for our concert. You know, the One Direction one that is coming up pretty fast." I completely forgot. How could I? They consume almost all my extra time that isn't spent on the Internet for my job. "When is that?" I ask. "Three weeks." Almost tripping over the cat, I yell with excitement. "What if the loml is the actual love of my life?"

"I'm going to need you to do me a favor and not step on my cat." I chuckle at her response to my clumsy feet. "I'm serious, Megan. That could actually be what happens and I would be over the moon excited about the rest of my life." I see the worry in her eyes before she is able to respond to me. "I believe that it truly could be your destiny to fall in love with Harry Styles, but I don't want you to get your hopes up, just to have them crushed. You know I also have three weeks left and even though I could never talk Harry from you, whatever is going to happen will happen in time. We both just need to take a deep breath."

Once she says his name, I completely disregard the rest of her speech. Just the thought of the One Direction member can throw my head into a total daze. He probably doesn't even know I exist, even though I constantly talk about him on my YouTube channel. My channel has slowly evolved into me becoming more open about how I feel and what interests me. I'm still not comfortable with it. Maybe I never will be.

I snap back into reality as Megan trips me in my daydream walk, almost landing me completely on my face. "Snap out of your mystical neverland," she quickly interjects before I can reprimand her. Megan calls my thinking space neverland because she considers it the place I go when I don't want to face grown-up problems, aka my job and paying the bills. One thing you must understand is that Megan is just as obsessed with bands as I am, but she is better at hiding it, seeing that she works with celebrities almost every day. I make mocking faces at her before I plop down on the couch and pull out my phone, choosing to run away from her endless tirade of her pleading attempts to get me out of my anxiety-filled head and to come out with her tonight. It's Saturday night and I am determined to say home and finish Friends for the 12th time.

Megan finally surrenders and goes to get ready as the sun is beginning to set around six o'clock. It is a brisk March night in the city of London as I stare out at the night sky and the passing cars that seem to be in a never-ending rush to be somewhere important. Something inside of me is pulling at me to get out and enjoy a night with a friend who has a little too much fun dancing. Megan has great rhythm when I seem to have two left feet. I try to copy her movements, but I can never capture her grace before I fall right on my butt in the middle of a crowded, sweaty dance floor.

I decide that I want to live up these last few weeks before I meet my soulmate and run to my room to find an outfit suited for clubbing in middle on a cold spell. I don't realize now that I will feel the aches that will be created from hours of dancing tomorrow, which will hinder my ability to write my blog post the next day. At the present time, I do not care enough to stop myself to examine this idea. When I step out of my room in black booties, black jeans, and a sparkly top, I look up to see my best friend with the biggest grin on her face. She is beaming with pride as she looks upon me. She is happy that I can, for once, let my guard down to be open to new things. Megan is wearing a motorcycle jacket with a white top, black jeans, and knee-high boots.

As I run to get a coat, she asks, "Are you ready to experience a night you will never forget?" I'm not sure I'm ready, but I'm up for the challenge.