Following Your Direction [One Direction: Zayn Malik Romance]

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My eyes were trained on my house at the end of the street before it took a long and precise curve, bending around to go onto the next street. The walk home had been Hell; with my best friend texting me about her obsession over a certain five boys with accents and my parents reminding me they had arrived in New York City with the rest of my siblings, I swear I just wanted to collapse.

My dad and stepmom had taken the liberty of going to visit colleges with my two older brothers, taking a road trip to New York, then down to South and North Carolina, Florida, and circle back up to New Jersey. It made no sense to me why New York was their first stop, but it wasn't my college road trip they had planned, so I hardly cared.

When I finally reached my pathway, I walked through the empty driveway and up to my door. A rustling noise came from behind my hot tub after my hand was on the cool metal handle, making me pause and snap my gaze over to the large, heated box. My eyes narrowed as I caught sight of black hair behind the hut tub, making me take a step closer and put my hands on my hips.

Looking expectantly at it, I waited for the intruder to come out - but still, they acted as if they hadn't been seen. Too annoyed by the reminder of my family's absence to be scared, I rolled my light blue eyes, growing slightly annoyed at their belief that their appearance was invisible.

"Are you going to come out?" I finally asked, exasperated. "I know you're behind the hut tub."

Slowly, five heads emerged from behind the hot tub. Immediately, I recognized them - they were the same five boys my best friend has been gossiping about all week through text and in person. It was One Direction.

"Please don't scream," The blonde pleaded, his Irish accent surprising me. "The fans are chasing us and we needed a place to stay."

Barely fazed by the realization of who they were, I muttered, "I wasn't going to scream." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "I was going to ask you why you're at my house."

Suddenly, high pitched cheering became less distant and started to grow louder and louder, signifying the fans they had spoken of were growing closer. All of the boys looked at me in panic before running to my door, practically leaping inside before the last boy dragged me in as well.

"Is anyone here?" The curly-haired one questioned.

"No," I answered. "Listen, if you aren't going to answer my questions then-"

"We need a place to hide out before our manager comes to pick us up. He let us roam around by ourselves when we convinced him, and as you can see, we drew attention to ourselves." Curly interjected, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes at their foolishness, pushing past them. "Yeah, alright. Let's just go up to my room before someone starts knocking on my front door."

They followed me upstairs and into my room as I let my backpack fall off my shoulder and onto the floor, turning around to find the boys making themselves comfortable. One sat on my rolling make-up chair, two sat on my window seat, and two were splayed across my bed. I raised an eyebrow at them, watching them interact as if they weren't in a strangers house.

I was never one of those girls that had pictures of Justin Bieber plastered all over her walls, or listened to a Jonas Brothers song on repeat. I didn't fangirl, as my best friend likes to call it, and I hardly listened to pop music that played on every radio station known to man. Needless to say, I was less than impressed; I was more confused and didn't quite know what to do in the situation.

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