Near To You (One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter One

            “Thank you very much,” I told him sincerely. He waved me off jovially, returning to his newspaper. I placed the book into my satchel where a few half-filled notebooks and pencils littered the bottom. Stepping back onto the slightly bust streets I felt rejuvenated somewhat.

            No one stopped to look at the girl with the untameable curls standing in the middle of the sidewalk. They all moved around me, or shoved against me. It was almost as if I did not exist. The good feeling dimmed slightly. I was all alone here, despite my best efforts to make a few friends. The people I was truly comfortable with were an ocean away.

            Subdued, I decided then to find a coffee shop to warm my freezing digits before trekking back to the dorm. I would have nothing to do there, but perhaps I could catch one of my friends online. The time difference was tragic but Savannah often stayed until ungodly hours.

            I had no clue where I was going, but I hoped I’d find some familiar street, or even a Starbucks. I would ask for directions there, rather than wander around and lose myself further. Surprisingly enough, however, there were no Starbucks nearby. Instead I found a quaint café, tucked into the corner of a back alley.

            I was a little nervous at first about going inside because it looked a bit shifty, but as a foul gust of wind shook me I ran inside, unable to take the chilly weather anymore. It was September, where had the late summer weather gone to?

            Smoke hung in the air and I waved it away, holding back a small cough. I still wasn’t used to it, back home it was banned in public areas, but here it was a completely different story. Coming from a long family line of smokers, however, it was something I soon grew used to.

            There were only a few people there, and most were older. A couple sat near the back, sipping tea and sharing a pastry. I smiled softly. Sights like those always gave me a little bit of hope.

            “What do you want?”

            The man was nowhere near as kind as the lovely one from the stationery store, but I had been standing there for a few minutes, unsure of what to order.

            “A coffee, two sugars, two creams.” If I were to say a ‘double double’, the man may have looked at me as if I had two heads. He bustled around behind the counter, preparing my beverage, and I glanced around the shop again.

            In the corner by the window facing the alley sat a younger man, most likely somewhere around my age. I was surprised, considering the other patrons in the store. He had a hat covering his head and thick-framed glasses on his face. He was ducking away as if he did not want to be noticed. His eyes flashed in my direction and I quickly ducked my head back toward the barista, giving him my money.

            I scuttled in the direction of the boy with my head hung low, not daring to look his way. I took a seat a few tables away from the window, but close enough that the little light penetrating into the store that wasn’t from the dull buttery lighting cast itself across the table. I hated writing in artificial light.

            I placed by bag to my side and pulled out my new notebook and a pencil. Turning it to the first, blank page I placed the pencil in the crease and glanced out of the window. I took a small sip of my coffee. It wasn’t as could as Tim’s, but it would do.

            I put the cup back down and stared at the blank page with a loud sigh. Why had I bought it? The book was lovely, but that made me feel that anything I wrote in it would have to be just as good, better than anything I normally would scribble in the pages.

            “Do you want an autograph?”

            My head shot up in surprise. The boy had made his way toward me, and although his expression was slightly annoyed, there was still some lingering patience.

            “Excuse me?”

            “An autograph? If you want one, you could ask. I’ll just have to ask you not to tweet anyone about this place. I kind of like it because no one knows it’s here.”

            My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would I want his autograph? I studied his face briefly. He looked slightly familiar. Maybe he was an actor? No, he didn’t carry himself around like the theatre majors I knew. As he pulled off his glasses I instantly recognized him and felt foolish for not doing so before.

            “No thank you,” I told him.

            “Really, it’s not a bother—”

            “It’s fine,” I assured him. “I like you alright, and I know who you are, but I’m not that big a fan.”

            It was his turn to be surprised.

            “You didn’t come in here to find me?”

            “I thought you said no one knew this place was here?” I pointed out. “I just came upon the place, wanted something to drink and a place that was quiet.”

            “Oh,” He muttered. “Well, sorry for bothering you then.”

            “It was nice to meet you though,” I assured him. “I really am a fan. I just find the whole fawning thing a tad ridiculous.”

            He nodded, returning to his table and wheels began to roll in my head as I picked up the pencil and played with it.

            I had just met Zayn Malik.