MilkshakeStories - Stories about One Direction

I stood up to say goodbye.

 

„Hope you’ll have great fun then. It was a pleasure to meet you.“

 

She pulled her fingers trough her hair, and looked me in the eyes.

 

„Agree. And thank you so much for the milkshake!“

 

Before I’d say something more, or even ask for her number, she gave me one last smile and disappeared through the doors.

 

And I knew that this was probably the last time I ever met her.

---

Melanies POV

 

„Why didn’t you ask for his number, you idiot!?“

 

Jag suckade. De senaste dagarna hade jag frågat mig själv exakt samma sak. Varför hade jag bara sprungit ut ur cafét, utan att ens säga hejdå på riktigt? Jag hade ju i princip bara lämnat honom där. Jag drog en kudde över ansiktet och stönade högt. Jag var verkligen en idiot.

 

„Now you’ll probably never meet him again.“

 

Jag kastade kudden på henne.

 

„Äh, håll käften!“

 

Alyssa flinade. Hon kunde visserligen inte prata svenska, men förstod ändå det mesta. Tydligen hade hennes pappas - min morbrors - försök att prata svenska med sina barn när de var mindre gett resultat - om än svaga.

 

„Sure.“

 

Bara för att reta mig extra vände hon ryggen till och började hålla på med sin mobil. Jag stod inte ut särskilt länge.

 

„Okay. Forget it.“

 

Hon log och vände sig om.

 

„Weeeeyyyy! But don’t blame me if you’re sore. It’s your own fault.“

 

Jag protesterade inte, för jag visste att det var mitt fel. Jag hade sabbat chansen när jag väl hade haft den. Och jag ångrade det till tusen.

 

Men vad fanns det egentligen att ångra? Han var säkert inte ens intresserad. Som sagt - vi hade träffats för att byta telefoner - ingenting mer. Varför tänkte jag ens på annat?

 

Jag hade alltid varit den i vårt kompisgäng som hade haft otur i kärlek. Iza hade ju Olof. Safira var av och på med en massa killar hela tiden. Simon hade visserligen inte heller haft en flickvän på ett tag - men han hade ändå tjejer efter sig hela tiden. Jag var den enda som aldrig hade haft pojkvän. Safira och Iza brukade alltid säga att jag också skulle hitta nån när det väl var dags, att jag väl helt enkelt inte hade hittat den rätte än. Jag brukade inte fundera så mycket på det. Jag var inte som Safira, som gick ner och kärade ner sig i alla möjliga killar. Jag hade bara varit kär ett fåtal gånger - och då hade den aldrig varit besvarad.

 

Det var så typiskt att det alltid skulle hända mig. Jag försökte verkligen skjuta undan det som bubblade, långt där nere. Som ville upp. Som brände, skavde och pirrade. Men det gick inte. För varje gång som jag försökte få bort bilden av den här brunhårige killen och hans varma leende blev den bara starkare. Hans mjuka skratt klingade än en gång i mina öron, vilket fick mig att bli varm i hela kroppen.

 

Jag suckade. Det brukade inte gå så här snabbt. Men nu var det som det var. Och jag kunde inte göra någonting åt det.

 

Jag var körd.

 

*

 

Liams POV

 

„Great job, guys!“

 

Keith, the studio-chef, gave us an tiny applause, and looked at the clock on the wall.

 

„You can take a short break if you want, and we’ll continue in half an hour.“

 

I took off my headphones, and placed them on the table in front of the microphone. We’d started to work again yesterday. Now we were recording the last parts of our new album, which would be released in the end of september. I had a feeling it would actually be really good. I hoped the fans would like it.

 

Niall was the first one to get out of the room.

 

„I’m hungry. Liam, wanna grab some food with me?“

 

I shook my head, but Harry was soon to fill up my place.

 

„I’ll come with you!“

 

They made a short call to ask Paul to come with them - It was only 11 am, but there were already hundreds of fans outside the studio.

 

While Louis made himself a cup of coffee at the automat, I sat down and checked twitter.

 

„Havin a great time at the studio. Hop you guys gna like it! xx!“

 

In a few seconds my tweet got hundreds of retweets. I followed some people before I put down the phone again. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and saw Zayn standing there.

 

„How are you bro? You seem a little bit unfocused.“

 

I pretended to down know what he was meaning.

 

„No, I’m great. Why?“

 

Apparently my answer wasn’t to convincing, because he raised one eyebrow, and then sighed.

 

„If you say so. But you know I’ll always be here if you wanna talk.“

 

He smiled wryly. I smiled back. But in my head was a frenetic argument going on. Should I tell him about the girl who’d filled up my head during the past week? Should I tell him the reason why I’d been more difficult to talk with, more difficult to reach? Zayn was right. I’d been really unfocused. It wasn’t good for the band. We had to work together, if we wanted to make a great album. I sighed. Zayn maybe could help me. I decided to give it a try.

 

„Okay.“

 

I sighed, and Zayn looked up at me. I took a deep breath.

 

„It’s a girl.“

 

I smile grew on his face.

 

„I knew it!“

 

There was no triumph in his voice. Only real, genuin happiness. I hesitated, but then smiled back. I had a feeling that he would understand me.

 

„Wanna tell me more about it?“

 

I nodded.

 

„But it’s quite much. Just so you know.“

 

His smile grew bigger.

 

„Even better!“

 

I laughed silently, and started to tell him all about how we bumped into each other at the starbucks almost a week ago, and about how we switched phones. He seemed quite impressed about the whole thing, and nodded supportively when I told I’d bought her a milkshake. Everything just slipped out of me, how beautiful her laugh was, how her blue eyes’d sparkled when she told me about her mates home in Sweden. I even told him about small, irrelevant things, like the little tattoo on the upperside of her hand, just above her thumb.

 

When I had finally stopped talking, my thoughts were still on her. I was so deep down in my thought I didn’t even heard when Zayn was asking me a question.

 

„Liam!“

 

I blinked and looked at him.

 

„What?“

 

Zayn chuckled, and shook his head.

 

„I asked: Didn’t she recognize you? I mean, she must have seen you somewhere.“

 

I smiled.

 

„No, apparently she wasn’t a fan. Even when I told her my name she didn’t show any signs of knowledge.“

 

He nodded slowly, with a smirk on his face.

 

„Cool. Really cool.“

 

I laughed.

 

„Yes, actually.“

 

I shouldn’t say the fame has taken over me, I always became as happy as always when fans came to us and wanted an autograph or a photo. But after more than one and a half year I’d sort of became used to it - that people knew who I was.

 

„Do you remember her name? She’s maybe on twitter.“

 

Twitter. Why hadn’t had thought of twitter!? Ofcourse she was on twitter.

 

„Yes.“ Ofcourse I remembered her name. „Her name is Melanie Holly.“

 

Zayn had already his blackberry up. He looked at me with a wierd expression, and then nodded silently, before he started to tip in the letters in the user-searcher on twitter. He whistled some melody while it loaded. Then he looked down.

 

„Liam! I found her!“

 

My heart skipped a beat. I moved closer so I could see too.

 

„Or yeah, I found like ten of them, but I’m sure she’ll be one of them!“

 

Please. Zayn klicked at the first Melanie Holly who popped up.

 

Number 1 1D-fan!! #LOVE @harry_styles follows!

 

I checked the picture. Definitly not her. Next one was a woman in her late thirties. Not her either. After her came another crazed fan - there were apparently more than we actually knew - , some emo-style-girl, and several blond girls. But no one was the brownhaired and blue-eyed Melanie I’d met. Zayn scrolled down, to hopefully find some more users with the name Melanie Holly. No one. I felt the disappointness grow stronger, and settle like a big stone in the depth of my stomach. This was probably the last chance to find her, and it seemed pointless. I bit my lip.

 

Zayn apparently saw my disappointed face, because he punched my shoulder softly.

 

„C’mon man! We’ll find her. She maybe just has another name on twitter?“

 

Then how will you find her? I wanted to ask him. There are fucking 100 million users! I didn’t believe for a second we would find her, but I let Zayn do whatever he wanted. Whatever. I heard him mumble to himself.

 

„What can you call a girl named Melanie? Mellie...? Lilly...? Lana...? Mel...?“

 

He saw his fingers move over the screen. I hadn’t the patience to wait for him to find something, so I just closed my eyes and leaned back in the sofa.  

---