Believe [Liam Payne]

Chapter 1 ∼ Veronica

That morning, the sound of my phone woke me up. 6:00 am on a Sunday. Jasmine was ready, and I was still late. I put on a pair of random jeans as fast as I could and took that blueberry muffin on the counter. I prepared my things and went upstairs to say goodbye to my parents.

I leaned against the door frame and knocked.

"Mom. Mom, wake up. Today is the big day."

I saw the eyes of my two parents open, despite their heavy eyelids.

"Oh, dear!" she said hoarsely. "Come here and give me a kiss."

I approached her bed and took her in my arms.

"I love you. Be careful, Veronica. Did you forget your glasses? Or your sunscreen? Or your-"

"Mom! I have it all. Thank you."

I smiled at her. I looked at my father, now sitting next to his wife and gave him a hug.

"I will miss you, Ronnie. Enjoy it the fullest," he said.

"You worried. It can not really be worse, Dad, you know."

"I love you. Don't ever forget that."

He smiled at me. My father didn't really like talking about this. He knew how it affects me, but he only replied with "I love you, Ronnie." This fascinated me.

"I'd better go. Jasmine's waiting for me."

I pointed the door that was right behind me with my thumb.

"Go," my mother said with a smile plastered on her lips.

I took them both in my arms and ran towards the door.

"Goodbye!" I shouted, without even looking back.

In the car, the convertible old youth of my parents, I had one hand on the wheel and one that changed the radio stations while holding my muffin.

"And now: The infos on radi-"

"Here's Madonna! On what statio-"

"For only $ 39.99, get"

I could never find a station that I liked. And with the road lined with farms and wheat fields, I wasn't very entertained. I learned over the years that listening to music was the only way to distract me. I stumbled on a pop-country station. I love the country. Not old country that my grandad used to love,  but the popular is good. When your hair swirls at the wind rythm and you know that in less than twelve hours you will shine your thousand lights in California, country is the best kind of music there is.

While traveling, I took a bite of my breakfast. The looked at road, the sun rose quietly away. I loved to be from Wisconsin. The atmosphere was charming. I adore farms, I'd love to spend my life in an old faded house sheltered by an old willow tree, drinking iced tea during summer and hot chocolate during winter while laying on the old flowered couch watching sports and cuddling with the neighbor's cat who would come to visit me. I love Wisconsin.

My greatest wish was to find me someone to shared that interest. Most boys today only dream about  a great condo wich is worth half a million dollars and the girl who goes with it. I'm quite the opposite, which may explain the fact that I had only one boyfriend in my life, and it was my best friend since I was little. He was like me. Yet he had moved since, in a castle downtown a huge city in Illinois. At only 18, he's gone. He left me alone and a little behind, but I'm okay with it. We all have to take these decisions, each and every one, at least once in our lives.

The minutes passed slowly just like the road under the plate of my vehicle. A little over a quarter of an hour later, it was parked in the entrance to Jasmine's house. She came out of the house shouting and crying like crazy, hand firmly clutching her travel bag. She ran to the car and opened the door, sitting by my side.

"You realize it, RONNIE? ONLY A FEW HOURS OF FLIGHT AND WE'RE THERE!" she exclaimed when I left for the airport.

"Calm down, damn," I said. I smiled, though. I didn't know what to expect.

"MAYBE WE WILL MEET CUTE BOYS. THERE'S GONNA BE LOADS OF STORES. BE QUIET? NOT TODAY. I CAN. I GAVE MYSELF THE RIGHT," she screamed.

I laughed. It was amazing how we were different. She was neon while I was not too colorful pastels. I don't really like that people see me out, unlike Jasmine, who is all in the interest of a future boyfriend or a pair of new trendy jeans.

"You remember Mark?" I asked.

I met Mark during a student exchange then we had 13 years. I kept in touch with him since. He lived in Malibu and I had the idea to re-contact him for a small hello.

"This guy! Yes. He was nice, the last time I saw him."

Jasmine thought guys are all nice, to be fair. In the description I believe I made of her, you probably think she was one of the popular girls at school while I was the ugly follower? Not really. We didn't even go to the same school. I went to private. And she had a beautiful side, she's pretty, but not to drop any jaws. She was quite nice to everyone, this is what made her "popular". (She wasn't really, but she liked to think she was.)

"We meet the first night. I look forward to seeing him again. He is always there for me via Skype or text messages in the most difficult moments ... But nothing compares to a good hug." I smiled.

"I understand, Ronnie." She looked at me and smiled too.

Jasmine raised both arms in the air.

"CALIFORNIA, HERE WE COME!" she screamed as the gasoline engine spat increasingly, destination flight 3033, LAX, California.