The Spare Bed - One Direction

Chapter One

I hurriedly pulled my blankets up to my chin and lay on my side, facing away from the door. I scrunched up my eyes and bit my bottom lip to prevent any unwanted sound escaping, silently praying Helen would remain in the door frame.

"Here we go," Helen whispered. I squirmed slightly, wondering who she was talking to. I glanced at my digital alarm clock on my bedside table. 2:34. It definitely was not visiting time.

"Be careful - she's a very light sleeper."

"Thank you. Bye," a voice answered. Obviously a boy. But boys weren't allowed in girls' rooms after 10:30, and it was quite a bit later than that. And I knew everyone else here, there were only twenty of us. I was close friends with all of them, but I didn't recognise this voice. So it was understandable that I was a tad annoyed that a stranger was in my room at two thirty in the morning. I know Helen was a bit ... enthusiastic sometimes, but even she should know this crossed the line. I was going to have to have a very annoyed conversation with her in the morning about letting unwanted visitors in my room past midnight. Or maybe right now as she seems to think early on a Sunday morning is the perfect time for strange and unexpected events to occur.

I heard the door click shut, almost silently, as the boy attempted to shuffle quietly across the room in pitch darkness, but ended up sprawled on the floor next to my bed after apparently expecting my swivel chair to just wheel itself out of his way. Ego much. I stifled a laugh before sitting up in bed.

"Are you okay?" I asked. If I said any more, I would not be able to contain my amusement. Obviously, he hadn't realised I was awake as when he heard my voice he jumped about a foot in the air, but unfortunately landed on his face again. Not helping me stop laughing.

"Who said that?" He squeaked an octave higher than he should be proud of. He sounded like an animated chipmunk.

"Me," I replied as I switched on the lamp next to my bed. He turned to look at me. The light was quite far away from him, so I could only make out his basic features, but I was certain he could see me very clearly. I was suddenly very grateful I had forgotten to take my makeup off last night.

"Sorry. I didn't see you there." His voice returned to what was probably normal and was quite deep.

"You only would've if you had superhuman eyesight from eating more than your own body mass in carrots everyday," I tried to make the atmosphere less formal while I got out of my bed, still wearing my clothes from the day before - denim shorts and a white tank top. I don't like pyjamas because I feel like they're mocking me. 'We're made for sleeping in. Why are you sleeping? *evil laugh*'

"I think you're talking about Louis there," He answered after a short chuckle. I mentally high-fived myself for making him laugh, then actually high-fived myself. I stopped the swivel chair's impression of a wahing machine on spin cycle and turned round to look at him again.

"Who's Louis?" The boy was still on the floor, his bags and suitcases hindering his awkward attempts to stand. He was failing, rather epically may I add. He reminded me of a turtle on its back, both hilarious and quite heart-breaking. Amusing though his failures were, I threw some of his bags onto the extra bed and extended my hand to him. He took it and pulled himself up, smiling gratefully.

"My friend and band-mate." He was closer to me now, only a few inches away, so I could see him easier. He had curly brown hair and bright green eyes. He was about an inch and a half taller than me, so I had to step back to see his face.

"You're in a band? What's it called?"

"It's a boy band, called One Direction."

"Is it well-known?"

"Yes, quite a bit," he smiled, looking slightly surprised I hadn't heard of it.

"I'm not really a big fan of music." Yeah, that'll make him want to be your friend. He frowned at me curiously.

"Why not?" I shrugged.

"Dunno really. I guess because it changes too much. One month it's all classical pieces that only child prodigies can pronounce the name of, the next it's just rappers who can say thirty words a second. And it's always about the same things, you know? I mean, don't songwriters know there are more important things to life than sex and drugs?" He was looking at me with an amused expression on his (I admit, rather handsome) face.

"So, you're in a band. That must be cool." I was worried I had offended him when he took a short while to reply. He must be thinking what to make of this. He'd just walked into a mental hospital in the middle of nowhere, had an evil chair attack him when he least expected it and now some random girl he didn't even know was rambling on about prodigies and drugs. Some day he was having.

"I'm Harry Styles." He ignored my previous comment. It was probably for the best.

"Kara Dowley." I extended my hand yet again and he shook it firmly. His big hands enveloping mine.