don't you go // lrh

/two/

/no fucking way/

/amara/

My mom had been a riot girl in her days. She followed bands around for months on end in the U.S, the U.K, you name it.

She was a photographer and sold her photos in exchange for concert tickets, sometimes somewhere to sleep, a friend of a friend's phone number to call for a couch to sleep on. She'd sleep on tour buses and in hostels and sometimes even on benches at train stations.

Just to be close to the music.

She dropped out of an Ivy League college after just a weeks, barely got her dorm decorated just the way she liked it before she decided to call it quits.

And her parents disowned her and cut her off financially for a while because of it.

But then one fateful night, she met one of her favorite bands manger and married him instead of the lead singer like she originally planned. He was in a band too. But because he was tired of seeing his music industry peers getting lowballed by the industry, he made his own label and management company. He saw my mom. She saw him.

And then they had me.

She's the one who gave Jesse, Maddie, and I the idea to go around with One Direction for a couple shows.

Okay. Not with. But you know what I mean.

We'd always wanted to. Just never seemed possible before. Always a horse camp or a vacation or a scheduling conflict in the way. She had one too many glasses of wine one night and started talking about her 'prime'. Whatever that means.

At first it seemed like a no go since we only got tickets to the shows back home. But then I played up the whole 'please daddy' thing and with his connections in the industry we all got discounted tickets.

We finally arrived at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California.

Far from home, not missing it the tiniest bit.

And it's our third and final night here. Figured we'd go out with a bang.

I was holding hands with both of the girls when Maddie spoke up, scowling at the 5s.o.s tour promo up on the big screen, "Ugh no one wants to see five seconds of idiots at The Forum. Can you believe that?"

"It's not even their tour and they're promoting their headlining show." Jesse shook her head in disapproval.

I just laughed and shook my head. My dad would look at that and say it's probably advantageous of them to promote it on tour with the band that practically handed them a career. He'd give them PR props.

Either way, I sort of don't care.

What I do care about is the stares we're receiving.

I could feel the scowls people were shooting us. Some probably know of us, some probably don't. But the judgement feels the exact same. When you and your friends show up anywhere in platform boots it's only expected. They don't have to know us to take one look and make their minds up about us completely.

"Let's not even think about it." I say.

In reality I just want to talk about something else for once. Every joke there is to make, has been made.

We reach our row and sit down, adjusting ourselves just in time for the lights to dim. The opening act in question is about to come on.

I could hear the roar in the crowd begin. Not loud, but loud enough to be annoyed since the main act wasn't even on.