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I did not want to be here. In fact I could think of a million fucking places where I'd rather be than standing in the rain, queued up for an audition that I was bound to blow. School would have been a welcome alternative, or maybe the dentist. Yeah, I would've gladly volunteered for a root canal to get out of this. At least at the damn dentist I would have been able to sit down, and maybe even get some laughing gas if I was lucky. But no, here I was instead, flanked by my mum and Doniya, a terrifying tag team if ever I'd seen one, waiting to embarrass myself on national television.
I wasn't even all the way awake yet, and I was doing my best to keep it that way, knowing that my nerves would set in full force if I actually took a second to let what was happening sink in. But even in my dazed, sleepy state I couldn't help but notice the boy stood a few meters from me. He looked to be about my age, with a lanky frame leading up to broad shoulders and a head full of brown curls. But his hair wasn't what had me unable to look away. No, that was his eyes, which I could see were a startling shade of green even from this distance.
The weather was making my already sour mood even worse, but he appeared to be unaffected by it. Rain was falling in a steady drizzle, making my hair puffy and unmanageable, but it seemed to be serving him nicely, making his curls spring up like they had a life of their own. He was waving his hands around, talking animatedly like he didn't have a care in the world. It was kind of annoying, actually, the way he seemed so at ease, with the wait and the weather, while I was a mess, my insides and outsides both getting more messier by the minute.
I pulled my coat a little tighter around me, grateful that my mum had forced me to wear it after she had cruelly yanked me out of my warm bed and pushed me into the car, and made myself look away from him. My eyes scanned the crowd surrounding me, filled with hopefuls who mostly seemed to be my age or a little older, and the parents and girlfriends and boyfriends they'd brought to cheer them on. I wished for a second that I had a girlfriend to bring with me, though the truth was there were a few girls that would have happy to tag along, eager for a chance to spend some time with me and to maybe even make it onto the telly. But there wasn't anyone that I could actually imagine wanting here with me. At least my family was obligated to love me even if I performed terribly.
I tried to find someone else in the crowd to focus on, I really did, but everyone else just seemed to pale in comparison. It was like they all were in black in white and he was in technicolor, and I felt my eyes drift back to him. He was wearing a gray cardie and a ridiculous green scarf that highlighted the color of his eyes, and he had a bunch of weird looking bracelets on. He looked like the hipster douches me and my mates usually made fun of, but somehow it all worked on him. I had a feeling it had something to do with his ever present smile, and his dimples certainly weren't hurting matters. I watched as he he let out a huge laugh, clutching his stomach with the force of it as I strained to hear what he sounded like over the hum of the crowd and the patter of the rain.
I wondered what it would be like to make someone laugh that hard, like they had never heard something so funny, and I took a second to look at the people surrounding him for the first time. He was standing next to an older woman, one who was almost as attractive as him (not that I found him attractive, cause I didn't, but I was man enough to admit that he wasn't bad looking). She had his dimples, and she was looking at him with so much love that she had to be his mother. Unless everyone looked at him that way, which wouldn't have surprised me. He just seemed like one of those people; the kind that you couldn't stay mad at for more than five seconds, no matter how angry they made you. The woman - definitely his mum, I decided - had on a t-shirt that seemed to match the ones that everyone in his group was wearing. I strained to see what it said, but between the rain and the people milling about I couldn't make it out.
I gave Doniya a nudge with my elbow, one that wasn't nearly hard enough to earn the grunt of pain that she let out. "Can you read what those shirts say?" I asked her, lifting my chin towards the group of people standing next to the boy.
She whipped her head around, grateful for anything to distract her from the tedium of this endless wait. "We think Harry has the X Factor," she read, before letting out a laugh. "That's proper cheesy. How embarrassing," she went on, but I wasn't paying attention anymore.
Harry. His name must've been Harry. If you'd have asked me five minutes ago I would have said that Harry was a terrible name for a teenage boy, more suited for a grandfather, or a hamster, but now I wasn't so sure. I kind of liked the way the name sounded in my head now that I knew that it belonged to him, and I wondered how it would feel to say it out loud. I wondered what he would do if I were to call out to him. Would he smile and wave, or would he ignore me completely? I had a feeling that it would be the prior, as he seemed to have a smile for everyone he looked at, his face completely open and guile free. Not that I would ever find out either way. Never in a million years would I ever call out to a stranger like that, no matter how much I wanted to meet them.
Not that I really wanted to meet him. I mean, he was nothing to me, and I was sure that it was just tiredness and boredom that was making him seem intriguing in the first place. I wished that I'd brought a book with me, or my DS, anything that would distract me and keep me from dreaming up fantasies about people I had never and would never meet.
"He's cute at least," I heard Doniya continue. "With that smile I'd be willing to have a go, annoying family be damned."
I felt a wave of jealousy wash through me as her words registered, and for the first time I regretted dragging her along with me. Which was absurd, given that neither of us were going to get the chance to talk to him anyway. And even if we did, he was bound to prefer meeting me, obviously. I was the one auditioning after all. Don couldn't carry a tune to save her life.
"You're supposed to be here to support me, not scam for a date," I grumbled before she could say anything else about Harry. Once again thinking his name seemed to warm something up inside of me, though it felt a bit odd knowing it when he didn't even know that I existed. I wanted him to know my name, and to be able to hear how it sounded spilling from his lips.
"Look," my mum whispered, pointing out the camera crew that had just stepped outside. My nerves returned full force as I saw them start to approach me, all thoughts of the young boy with the old man's name washing away with the rain.
***
I somehow made it through my audition, though the details of it were gone from my mind by the time I stepped off of the stage except for the fact that I had managed to get a yes from all three of the judges. I was riding high for the next few weeks as I waited for the boot camp round, eager to try to make it through to the judges' house. And maybe, late at night lying in bed, I was able to admit that I was also looking forward to getting back to see if the guy - Harry - had made it through as well.
I'd looked for him after my audition, with no luck. But he was practically the first person I saw when I was ushered into the huge auditorium. It was full of boys, all of the male contestants who had made it this far, but my eyes found him right away. He looked just the same, except that now he had a beanie covering his curls, and he might have looked even happier than he had before if that was possible.
I forced myself to not head straight towards him, introducing myself to a few other guys that looked as out of place as I felt. I forgot their names as soon as they said them, unable to focus on anything but Harry. I wondered if I was obsessing on him to avoid having to think about what I was really doing here, and the possibility that I could be cut from the show at any moment, but I didn't think that that was the only reason for my preoccupation with him. I could feel myself being drawn to him, my body seeming to know where he was standing and what he was doing before my mind did. I inched closer without meaning to, wanting to hear what his voice sounded like.
I didn't read too much into my desire to get to know him. If I was going to be stuck here all day I might as well try to meet someone who I thought I could be friends with, and he seemed like the best candidate so far. I racked my brain to try to think of a way to meet him, or of something funny I could say in the hopes of making him laugh, but before I could come up with anything I looked up to see him approaching me. Actually approaching me, like he thought that I was worth talking to out of this whole room of people.
"Hello there, I'm Harry," he said by way of greeting, and fuck if his voice wasn't appealing. It was lower than I'd expected, and it had a raspy quality to it that made me want to force him to sing my favorite song to me on the spot, just to hear the words that meant so much to me come out of his mouth.
I plastered a smile on my face and reminded myself to play it cool. "I know," I blurted, and just like that I knew that I had blown any shot I had of him wanting to get to know me better. "I mean, I'm Zayn. It's nice to meet you Harry," I tried to recover, my voice cracking a bit as I said his name out loud for the first time ever.
A huge smile lit up his face, and I felt something settle inside of me. "The pleasure's all mine," he murmured. He didn't reach out to shake my hand, but I wished that he had, wanting to know what his skin felt like, how firm his handshake would be, how warm his palm would be against my own.
The rest of the room seemed to disappear as our conversation began to flow, one subject easily flowing into another, with no awkward pauses or fumbling for something to say. Harry spoke slowly, and his voice was never as animated as his face was, but I still hung on his every word. There was just something about him, and the way he spoke, and how intently he looked at me, that had me captivated.
I stood up a little taller under his steady gaze, choosing my words carefully as we talked about everything from where we lived to our favorite shows and singers, knowing that I might only have this one shot to impress him. It briefly flitted across my mind that this was how I should have felt during my audition, so why was I just as nervous now - if not more so - when all I was doing was talking to a guy I barely knew? It didn't make any sense to me, but something was nagging at me, a little voice in my head that told me that my life would never be the same if we both got through to the next round, not only because it would mean the chance to see my dream realized, but because of the friendship that we might have time to form. Because of the chance it would give me to get to know Harry better.
He was smiling brightly at me, his face the perfect picture of innocence, though I swore there was something devilish about his smile that made me think he might not be the choir boy that he appeared to be. He was looking at me like I was the only person in the room, or even the only person in the world. I'd never felt like that before, never had someone hang on my every word like I might be revealing the secrets of the universe, and I didn't know whether to run from it or towards it. It was a heady feeling, having someone like Harry pay attention to you, but I knew that this could all disappear at any time and that nothing else would ever be able compare to it.
I shook those feelings off, as they were ridiculous. I was barely 17, what the hell did I know about the world? For all I knew there could be a million Harrys out there...a million people who would make me feel this way...
We only spoke for about ten minutes before we were divided into separate groups to learn a dance, but it was enough time for me to know that my first assumptions about Harry had been right. There was just something about him, and even if I didn't make it any further on the show, I was still grateful that I had been able to meet him, and I made a mental note to thank my mum for forcing me to audition.
One hour later and I was no longer planning to thank my mother for anything. In fact I took back every nice thing I ever said about her. I could not believe that these motherfuckers expected me to do some stupid dance that everyone would be able to see and laugh at, including Harry. I had a half a mind to bail on the whole competition right then, but I settled for hiding out backstage, hoping that they wouldn't notice I was missing.
I wasn't so lucky. After a truly mortifying conversation with Simon, and a pitiful attempt at the routine, the day was finally almost over. I was exhausted and embarrassed, and pretty much fucking done with everything when they lined us up to call out the names of the guys who had made it through.
I wasn't holding out much hope that I'd made the cut, and my hopes plummeted more and more as name after name that wasn't mine was called out. But it still felt like a punch in the gut when the final contestant's name was said. I wasn't surprised that I hadn't made it, but I was still gutted, and one look around the room told me that I wasn't the only one. Harry had tears flowing down his face, and the desire to comfort him made me forget my own pain for a second. I hadn't been listening for his name, since I'd been so sure that he was going to make it through.
As I was trying to work up the courage to talk to him again, and maybe see if he wanted to exchange numbers or something, or if it would be weird if I friended him on Facebook, they called for all of us boys to gather once more. I couldn't even begin to think of what they might want, but my heart still started beating a little faster as they called out my name. Other names followed, ones that I vaguely recognized, but I found myself holding my breath, hoping that Harry's name would be called as well. It was, finally, and I felt excitement bubble up inside of me. I had no idea what they were planning for us, but at least it would give me the chance to spend a little bit more time with him.
As we were led back onstage and I saw Simon, Nicole and Colin waiting for us, I realized how fucked up my thinking was. They might actually be planning on offering me another shot here, so why was I so focused on Harry? I ran my hand over my face, trying to will myself to listen to each word the judges were saying. I didn't turn my head while they spoke, not even an inch, knowing that if I saw even a glimpse of Harry that I would lose the plot completely.
"...We think it would be a great idea to have two separate groups," Nicole was saying, and I felt the tall lad - Liam I think his name was - put his arm around me and squeeze my shoulder as my body went ice cold, shock the only emotion I was able to process. I balled my hands into fists as Simon began to speak.
"We've decided to put you both through to the judges' house," he said, and I could've sworn my whole body lit up from the inside out. But it was nothing compare to the smile that overtook Harry's face, his joy evident even as he ducked his head. I wandered around the stage aimlessly as I tried to catch my breath. I couldn't believe that any of this was happening, and I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, to find out that it was all a big joke and we weren't in fact getting another chance.
And then Harry was hugging me, his long arms wrapping tightly around me as my feet came off of the ground, and I couldn't focus on anything but how his body felt pressed against mine. My chin fit perfectly into the space between his neck and his shoulder, and I nuzzled into it before I even realized what I was doing, taking what felt like my first full breath in forever. He smelled of apricots and sweat and something sweet, something that I couldn't identify but that I wanted to smell again and again, wanted to bathe in, and between that and the weight of him in my arms I felt dizzy.
He kept his hands on my shoulders as we broke apart, sending a tingle through me as he leaned in. "Guess you're stuck with me now," he whispered, a grin stretching across his face. I was too shocked to reply before he was pulling away, turning his attention to one of the other boys - one of our band mates, I realized with a start - leaving me standing alone with my heart in my stomach.
As the words that Simon had spoken replayed themselves in my head - we've decided to put you both through to the judges' house - I knew that this was a defining moment in my life. From here on out things would always be divided into before and after. Before, when I thought that I'd blown my one chance at my dream, and after, when I got a second chance. Before, when I thought that I'd never get to see Harry again, never get to know his secrets or to become his friend, and after, when there was the possibility that we could be connected forever. I didn't know how things were going to play out, but I knew that I was going to make the most of this situation. Maybe, if the fates aligned and I played my cards right, I would be able to get everything that I'd always wanted, and maybe a few things that I hadn't even known that I needed until now.