Obsession

Ch 1 - Opening Act

"Um, Traci?"

"Yes, Bree?" my friend replied quietly, her eyes glued to the gigantic screen on the side of the stage ahead of us, where videos were playing before the concert started.

I hesitated and couldn't help the smile that crept up on my face, because I knew exactly how she was going to react.

"I think I, um... I like the ugly one."

As expected, my admission pulled Traci out of her trance. She shot a bemused look at me and we both lost it. After a few seconds of breathless laughter, she managed to ask, "What the fuck even, Aubree?!"

Before I go any further, I must explain. I didn't actually think that this young guitarist with purple hair was 'ugly' by any means. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn't have been attracted to him. It was just that I knew my best friend's taste in guys, and I knew without discussing it that she probably found him to be the least attractive of the group. And, since I didn't know their names, I knew that she'd know exactly who I was talking about if I described him as the 'ugly' one of the group. I know, I know. It was super ugly of me to word it like that.

When Traci finally stopped laughing, her response was, "That doesn't surprise me. You always like the weirdos."

I didn't get offended, because it was true.

Traci and I were what many people refer to as fangirls. Grown ass women, but fangirls nonetheless. We'd fallen in love with many bands throughout our friendship. But it wasn't until we were in our 20's that we were financially secure and pursued our dream of occasionally following our favorite bands across the country.

Not to downplay Traci's life, but, as a single mom of two small children, I had a little more responsibility than she did. So it was tough when she asked me to go on a roadtrip and I couldn't, mainly because of money. Thank God for my mom, who often encouraged me to take some "me" time while she cared for my kids. So finding a babysitter was never an issue. But I still had to pick and choose which adventures to throw away all of my extra money on. That pretty much meant that I had to stick to trips that included my very favorite band. But since they weren't touring that particular year, I agreed to see a few One Direction shows with Traci instead. What I didn't agree to was to fall for their opening act, 5 Seconds Of Summer. Lord have mercy.

It was at their Nashville show that I made the astounding confession that I was crushing on Michael Clifford. No biggie. Except it was a bit awkward seeing as I was probably a few years older than him.

After disclosing my secret, it was a matter of moments before Traci whipped out her phone to research the band. "His name is Michael, and he's nearly 19. He's legal, Bree. You're good," she pointed out, already knowing what I was thinking because of that whole brain-sharing thing we'd always had going on.

Well, thank God. Not that it mattered, because I'd never meet him, and had about a snowball's chance in Hell of dating him. But it was still good to know.

Traci pretty much blended in with the older teenagers at the show. She was barely five feet tall, had perfect blonde highlights in her shoulder length hair, gorgeous brown eyes with lashes so long and thick it looked like she wore false ones even when she didn't apply mascara. And her makeup was always perfectly done. She was cute as could be, bubbly, sociable, and easily likable.

I, on the other hand, was basically the opposite. I was also a little on the short side, but had the most drab hair color. Kind of a dark blonde/light brown mix, and dull green eyes. I've always been pale. Not that pretty porcelain skin pale. More of a sickly, tired pale. I guess I wasn't ugly by any means, just kind of plain.

Personality wise, Traci and I had a lot in common. We thought so much alike it was scary. We loved the same things and shared the same morals. I didn't fare as well in social situations as she did, though. I had way too many insecurities, even though Traci always told me they were unwarranted.

But, hey, at least I didn't look my age. I could easily pass for 20 or so, as most people usually guessed my age. And Traci hardly looked 18. We were often told that we didn't even look old enough to be nurses. Not that we minded.

"So," Traci continued throwing names and ages at me, "the drummer's name is Ashton," she informed me. "He's cute."

"Oh my god, seriously? He's cute and all, but I could never be attracted to someone with the same name as my son. That's just wrong. You can have him. I'll stick with Michael."

"That blonde boy, the lead singer, he's a baby. Just turned 18 last month."

"Good grief. How come 18 year old guys didn't look like that when I was a teenager? It's so unfair. But what about the bass player?"

By the grin that crept up on her face, I knew she'd been doing some secret crushing of her own. Damn her for not telling me.

"Calum. Also eighteen. Damn he's hot."

Soon enough, those boys were on the stage, singing a few songs I was slightly familiar with, but mostly didn't know at all. But I enjoyed it, nonetheless. I really enjoyed it.

It was about more than just the looks. I, we, truly enjoyed their music. But the fangirling part was how we bonded. It was our thing: what brought us happiness and allowed us to escape to a place of persistent contentment in the crazy game of life.

The band members were goofy and messed around, all while giving a performance that showcased their talent. It amazed me that they were so young, yet so talented. And, hot damn, they were so gorgeous. Michael had blonde hair then, as opposed to the purple he'd had in the video. It suited him well, but he was super sweaty, and it was a complete mess, bless his heart. But his hair wasn't what I was interested in. It was just him. I didn't know why. I couldn't put my finger on it then, and I still can't even now.

So that was the beginning of our downward spiral into the deep, dark depths of the 5SOS fan life. We had no idea what was to come. No. Freaking. Idea.