Just Say Yes - A One Direction Story
Hey everyone this is my first fanfic so please let me know what you think! Constuctive critisicism, feedback, opinions etc are all welcome and would be greatly appreciated! Also if there's a particular guy who you deem apporporiate for the character then please let me know - I haven't decided yet :/ thanks so much for reading! My tumblr is http://girlwiththefivehomosexualstattoo.tumblr.com if you wouldn't mind taking a look - there are imagines there :) thanks loves xxx
My hands frantically started swiping at the trail of yogurt that was gradually sliding down and staining the front of my shirt. C’mon Alana, I thought to myself, desperate to get the lumpy goo off of me before I walked into the building. You don’t have time for this! Or spare clothing, for that matter......
“Excuse me miss, but you don’t have sufficient access to this facility” came a deep voice, “I’m going to have to ask you do join the queue over there please”. I whipped my head up to see a tall bald man blocking my access to the building, gesturing his hand towards the barricades that were restraining hundreds of fangirls lining up down the block. Clearly he misunderstood. “Sorry sir” I began, “but I’m actually meant to be inside the building, you see I’m act-“
“Actually one of their girlfriends?” he cut you off, looking down at you with a smirk on his face, “their stylist?” he continued with his condescending tone. “Let
me guess, the catering staff? A member of management?” he egged on, stifling back a patronizing laugh, “oh let me guess, you’re going to tell me that your siblings with one of them!” he chuckled, his potbelly beginning to wobble unattractively.
“No” you scowled at him, not only annoyed at his obvious distaste towards the fans and overall briskness, but also at the fact that he was making you late.
“Oh so you’re not here to scramble your way towards those idiot boys that are making my life hell and convince them to give you an autograph or marry you or something?” he smirked.
“Actually sir, I’m employed by the agency that employs you also. Difference being that I actually get to go inside” I glared at the station’s obnoxious security guard before flashing my entry pass and brushing past him into the main lobby.
Well that was partly true, I thought as I scampered my way into the lift. Any other day of the year, I would've been waiting outside in the freezing cold Melbourne air with all of the other girls as they screamed and cheered hoping just to catch a glimpse of the boys as they made their way into the building. But no. Today was different. Today I wasn't allowed to fangirl and hipthrust outside the radio station, gushing to other directioners about how perfect Harry's curls were or how when you looked into Niall's eyes you saw a deep blue lagoon of perfection rimmed by a delicate rim of golden sheen. No today I had to keep my cool. Because today......
I had the honour of interviewing One Direction in the flesh.
I heard a low ding as the elevator steadied and the doors edged open to reveal the third floor reception. After a quick smooth of my skirt and sniff of my breathe to ensure the removal of that awful morning breath that I’ve come to wake up with, I stepped cautiously over the threshold and walked up to the reception desk. “Hello” I smiled warmly at the lady behind the counter, who was busying herself in smearing a thick film of lipstick over her mouth, which much to my distaste, looked more like she had just forgotten to wipe off the tomato sauce after chowing down on a Big Mac. Not to mention the tight red blouse that she’d managed to squeeze into this morning, no doubt in the attempt to catch the eyes of the boys when they waltzed into the lobby later today. Oh well, I thought, you can’t blame her. It wasn’t as if I had just thrown on the closest thing this morning! I knew my chances were low and that the boys came face to face with hordes of stunning girls every day, but it didn’t mean that they deserved to be blinded with my unkempt hair and discoloured grey hoodie that I’d come to fondly name the mucus jumper, much to my mum’s distaste..... No, today I’d actually gone to some effort to make myself look presentable. And today of all days was the day that I had to spill yoghurt all down my front.
“What?” I heard a crotchety voice spit at me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Uhhh hi!” I quickly recovered myself, smiling straight at the receptionist despite her annoyed expression and rude tapping of her long leopard print acrylic nails against the desktop. “I’m Alana. Alana McMillan” I explained, “I won a competition through the station several months ago, to interview One Direction when they came to Melbourne, and uhhh yeah.... Here I am!” I smiled down at her, despite her clear intolerance towards me. I could tell she wasn’t impressed.
But seriously go and down a bottle of fish sauce lady! I was going to finally get to meet the boys and she was not going to drag my mood down. “Yeah okay” she sneered at me, “put this on and go and wait in one of those chairs for a minute” she brushed me away with her hand after handing me a name badge, before picking up the phone and punching in some numbers.
I did as I was told and made my way over to the plush armchairs that lined the wall, covered in snaps of various radio hosts with their arms around celebrities that had come on the station. My blood started to pump just that little bit faster at that stage; everything was beginning to sink in. In less than an hour I would be sitting in a room after years of waiting, with five of the most incredible human beings on the planet. Yeah cool Alana nothing to worry about I thought with a gulp as frightening images flashed through my mind. Here’s the thing, it wasn’t common for me to find myself in an awkward or embarrassing situation. In fact, it was kind of my thing. I could think of countless times when I’d either said something I shouldn’t or did something that earned me judgemental or cautious glances from those around me. Like that time when I almost choked and died on a piece of Turkish delight..... Or that occurrence when I accidentally sat on someone when coming back from the toilets at the movies, or maybe that time when I was in France and unknowingly told a bakery worker that I needed to take a really big sh;t, when really all I’d wanted was to buy a croissant. And let’s not forget about all of the injuries I’d encompassed..... Like that time when I’d sliced my arm open when trying to turn the light off in the bathroom. Or how I’d managed to break my coccyx when I’d sat down on an armrest! Or that time when I tore ankle ligaments when jumping off a fireplace pretending to be a superhero. Yeah I wouldn’t be all that surprised if I said something that frightened the boys to an extent where they ran off to cry into Paul’s shoulders, or I instead managed to strangle myself on cording in the studio...... Hey at least one of them might have to give me CPR then! I thought excitedly before feeling a gentle tap on my shoulder, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Miss McMillan?” a young friendly woman asked warmly, as she gripped firmly onto a green clipboard, checking my name badge against the names on list she had.
“Yes that’s me!” I chirped up, pushing myself out of the chair to stand in front of her.
“It’s great to have you here” she continued with a kind smile, “I’m Leslie and I work for the station” she said before extending her hand for me to shake. “The band won’t be here for a little while yet but I’ll show you to the studio and get you setup in the mean time if you’d like to follow me?” she ended, motioning to the closed doors further down the hallway. I followed her willingly down the corridor and into a brightly coloured room that was lined with a wide array of recording equipment. “So this here is where we’re going to record your broadcast” she explained, outlining the various microphones and headsets that we’d need to utilise when the time came. “We’ll set you up here so you have full view of all the boys and can direct your questions however you please” she smiled at me. “Great” I breathed softly, a bit bewildered by the reality that stood before me. “Hey” Leslie cooed bringing her hand up to my shoulder tenderly, “it’ll be fine! I read your entry, you seem to know what you’re doing, I’m sure you’ll do great” she encouraged. “Thanks” I smiled at her, grateful for her kindness. I could hear the screams from outside indicating that the boys were probably only about fifteen minutes away. A part of me wished I was down there with them.
But the rest of me just whacked those thoughts with a blow up pineapple and screamed out Norwegian fisherman swear words, outraged by the ridiculousness of what my brain was implying... Fvck no! I was not giving up this opportunity! “Hey Alana, can I get you a drink or something?” Leslie asked sweetly snapping me out of my thoughts once again, “it might help with the nerves.”
“Yeah that’d be great, thank you!” I smiled at her as she exited the room in search of refreshments.
Alright calm your farm Lans, I told myself as I paced your way around the room nervously. You’re only interviewing like the greatest boyband since the Beatles, it’s not like this is a big deal or anything! Sh;t bad move. I now stood overlooking the hordes of fans lining the streets outside the station, all manned with their posters and shirts. Something which really didn’t help calm my nerves; really it just made me think about how by being here I was representing the entire fandom and if I screwed this up, I’d never be able to forgive myself for letting everyone down. Okay Alana you need to do this I tried to calm myself as I continued my pacing, now towards the door, as I tried to separate myself from the terrifying crowds outdoors. Just breathe. It’s all going to be okay. You’re going to charm them with your hilarious wit and snorting laughter and they’re all going to fall in love with you and carry you back to Haz’s bungalow where you’re going to all become best friends and eat crumpets and live happily ever after with your imaginary pet toucan Barnaby.
“Hey Alana, I hope you’re okay with a Coke because that was all I could fi-“ I heard Leslie start before I felt her slam into me. “Sh;t Alana I’m so sorry!” she gushed as we both looked down at the dark brown Coke stain that now accompanied the congealed yoghurt on my shirt. “It’s alright!” I tried to convince both herself and I, as panic raced through my mind. Not only did I now have a sticky chest but now having the two substances combined on my shirt, it also looked like I’d puked down my front. “Eugh I’m so sorry” she continued “I’d offer you my shirt but I think it’s probably a few sizes too big.... I’ll go and have a look in storage and see if we’ve got any old tops that we used for a promo or something” she smiled apologetically at me before hurriedly slipping out of the room.
Sh;t. This is not how I thought today would go down.....
Leslie came back into the room soon after, sporting a handful of brightly coloured t-shirts. “I’m so sorry Alana, these were the best I could find” she ended before handing me the pile of tops. I flicked through a few, silently horrified at the garishness of them all. Yet, they were better than my stained blouse so I quickly picked out the least horrific shirt - a promo top that had a cartoon of the station's mascot - a fat moustache wearing penguin, with a speech bubble that said "Welcome to the station Seal!". God, even looking at the shirt made me cringe..... But better that than the vomit top! "That okay?" Leslie asked concerned. "Its great thanks" I smiled encouragingly as she slipped out of the room to let me change. I quickly undid the buttons on my blouse, rushing to get myself ready and calmed by the time I was needed for the broadcast. “God dammnit” I hissed as I got stuck on the last few buttons, them proving unwilling to loosen from the holes. Fvck it, I thought, the tops ruined anyway, no point trying to rescue it, I reasoned before hitching it up over my head, no longer caring if the buttons were to pop. There we go, I thought relieved as I reached for the new top, now I only have to embarrass myself in front of them in this penguin shirt rather than the coke stained one.
That’s the point where I noticed.
Standing in the open doorway gawking at my half naked frame.