We left New Zealand four days later.

During those four days I went with Zayn to get his new tattoo, met Niall’s cousin when he took us to a rugby match, watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy (twice) and basically acted as Baby Lux’s surrogate mother while Lou was busy chasing those boys around.

My interactions with Harry were few and far between – mostly because I was avoiding him like the plague. The morning following our almost-shag, he had been his normal flirtatious self, causing me to blush profusely and then run into the women’s loo citing ‘lady problems’. I literally couldn’t handle the level of embarrassment I felt around him.

Luckily, Harry caught on soon enough and when we were forced to interact he acted very droll and...well, like a normal eighteen year old boy, as opposed to one who pleasure in making me uncomfortable. It was a big step for him.

I did stay the hell away from Twitter and Tumblr and Sugarscape and anything else that might mention this Emma bird. I heard through the grapevine (AKA Nicola chatting on her mobile) that the girl in question was getting so much hate that she had essentially gone underground. I actually felt a bit bad for her...

I really don’t think anyone was sad that this leg of the tour was ending, though. Everyone was so exhausted, Niall was running out of clean pants to wear, Louis and Liam were going through girlfriend withdrawal, and Zayn’s level of apathy increased ten fold. Sure, the fans Down Under were awesome, but the boys couldn’t wait to be home in their own beds and with their own comfort food.

We were spending two days in London before heading home – mostly just to sleep off the killer jet lag, but also because my Train concert with Harry was the following night. I was really trying not to think about it, since the whole experience was going to be rather awkward, I knew. But, I fucking love Train and I wasn’t going to miss it.

Needless to say, jet lag does not suit me. I collapsed in my bed at Louis and Harry’s flat at 5pm London time and woke up around noon the next day. And the only reason I woke then was because Niall had burst in being all fucking peppy and leprechaun-ish, bouncing around and yelling something about my birthday present.

“Go away,” I grumbled, though there wasn’t much feeling behind it.

Niall was really the only one of the lads who wasn’t driving me up a wall by this point. Zayn had drooled on me during the flight and, when he was actually conscious, was asking me all sorts of girly questions about how he should ask Perrie out. Liam apparently dreams about being a football player or a donkey, because he kicked the back of my seat for half the flight. Louis was Louis and while I loved him he was still my brother. And Harry...well, you know about Harry.

“You need to get up,” he shouted again, jumping on the bed and bouncing me up and down. “You want to get your birthday gift, don’t you?”

“Can’t it be letting me sleep?” I whined, rolling over.

“I promise you’ll like this more.”

I sighed. It was clear he wasn’t going to let me sleep any longer, so I resigned myself to actually facing the daylight.

“Fine, give me a minute to get ready.”

“Wear something comfortable,” he ordered, before galloping out of my room.

Ten minutes later, I emerged to the snickers of the three lads sprawled about the living room.

“Morning, sunshine,” Louis chirped, sipping some of his tea with a dainty pinky sticking out. “You’re looking fresh.”

“Shove off,” I remarked, running a hand through my knotted hair. It was sticking out all over the place, my Glamour Kills tee was hanging half off of my shoulder, my jeans were wrinkled and my Converse were undone. Niall said to wear something comfortable, right?

“Ready to go?” he bounced up to me, still grinning. “The cab is out front.”

“Cab?” I asked, bewildered, as I pulled Harry’s purple Jack Wills hoodie on. That think was fucking amazing.

Niall just grinned some more, while Harry and Louis glanced at each other knowingly.

Dicks.

“You’re not taking me to get a make-over or something, are you? Or a shopping spree?” I asked, as we headed out into the cool London air. “Because I might actually hate you then.”

“Would I ever do something like that to you?” he asked innocently, opening the door to the cab for me. “Besides, you don’t need a make over. You’re lovely just the way you are. Oh, except...” He licked his thumb and reached over, rubbing the corner of my lips. “There, much better.”

I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve exaggeratedly, but couldn’t help but blush a bit. “Gross.”

“Aw,” he smiled, as the driver pulled out of the complex. “You love me, admit it.” He shot me his adorable Niall smile and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Only for your looks and fabulous wealth, remember?” I yawned.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he chirped, before tugging me over. “You can sleep if you want. We’ve got a bit of a drive.”

Sighing, I curled up on the back seat of the cab and rest my head on his lap, feeling utterly comfortable, and letting sleep overcome me.

About an hour later, Niall shook me awake.

“We’re here, babe,” he said softly, brushing some hair from my face.

Moaning softly, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Glancing out the windows as Niall opened the door, I tried to figure out where we were.

We weren’t in London anymore that was for sure. We were actually in a fairly rural area, it seemed, though there was a large gray facility and parking lot right where we were, surrounded by expensive looking cars.

“Where is here?” I asked, climbing out after him, but then I saw a sign that made my heart stop.

“Do you want to go in?” He asked, a wide smile on his face.

“Niall.” I said, my voice cracking with shock. “Niall. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He grinned at me, his blue eyes lighting up with pride.

“It’s exactly what you think it is.”

“This isn’t happening...” I stuttered. “I’m dreaming right now, right?”

“Come on, babe,” he smiled, taking my hand in his. “What’s it going to be? Yes or no?”

I paused only for a moment. “FUCK YES! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME HORAN?!”

He beamed before sliding his hand into mine and pulling me along behind him. I was bouncing around happily, unable to believe that he had pulled this off. This...this was unbelievable.

I mean, I may have mentioned a few times that I am a massive Chelsea fan, and Niall was the only other one who really understood my love of the team (considering everyone else I knew was a Manchester United fan – or West Ham, if you’re Liam), but I never, ever expected him to bring me to Cobham. I mean, no one gets to go to Chelsea’s training ground...no one. And they didn’t have a match today. Which meant they had training. Which meant THEY WERE FUCKING HERE.

I nearly shat myself.

I was shaking in anticipation as we checked in at the front desk of the building and were directed back to the athletic fields. As we headed out the back door and those oh-so-familiar forms appeared just one hundred yards away, Niall looked at me with some concern.

“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

“Holy tits, it’s Petr Cech,” I gasped, smacking him on the arm and running forward to the fence that separated us. “And Ramires. And Ashley Cole. And Fernando fucking Torres.”

This was pretty much how it went for most of the next hour – me hyperventilating whenever a player came within twenty yards of me, and Niall laughing at me in his oh-so-Niallish laugh. Until, of course, Didier Drogba strutted out onto the pitch and Niall started fangirling as well. By the end of the experience, we were both puddles of goo in the grass.

“I’m pretty sure Juan Mata smiled at me,” I gushed as we headed back into the building, after we were shooed away by the groundskeepers. Apparently, Niall could only get us limited time at the session, but it was still the most exciting thing in my life, and I was buzzing. “And I never realized how tall John Terry is in real life. And he’s proper fit, too. A bit of a tosser, sure, but fit none the less. Do you think they would remember me if they saw me at a match? Maybe if I went to Uni and became a doctor or something I could be like Lady Physio and – oh bloody hell, Nialler! How the hell did you pull that off?”

“I have some friends in high places,” Niall grinned, as we rounded a corner to see a tall, dark haired woman standing, texting on her phone. “Ello Christine!” Niall greeted cheerfully, tugging me along after him, as my legs had suddenly gone numb.

Holy shit.

“Niall!” She smiled, hugging him in greeting. “And this must be the birthday girl?” She turned to me, smiling prettily, while I gaped at her open-mouthed, like a fish.

“Yeah, this is JJ,” Niall answered for me, looking down at me in amusement. “Thanks for arranging this, by the way. As you can see, she’s pretty speechless.”

“Yeah. Speechless.” I blathered, staring at her flawlessness.

Christine Bleakley. As in, the fiancé of Frank Lampard. My favorite player of all time. In my euphoria of being at Cobham, it hadn’t even occurred to me that he wasn’t on the pitch with others.
Of course, he had been injured in the last match, so he was probably in the rehab center...

Suddenly, it hit me. I knew what was about to happen and I was powerless to stop it. I watched, almost in slow motion, as a door down the corridor opened, and he stepped out, fresh from a shower (where he had in all likelyhood been naked) and looking completely glorious.

I’m pretty sure they could hear my panties dropping back in Australia.

“Hey there, mate, how are ya?" He asked, walking up and shaking Niall's hand, before kissing Christine on the cheek.

"Frank, darling, this is Niall Horan from One Direction, you know that band the girls like? And this is friend, JJ.”

“Hello, love,” he smiled at me.

“Frank Lampard just spoke to me,” I muttered, looking over at Niall to make sure this was all real.
They just laughed at me though.

“Sorry Frank,” Niall laughed awkwardly, giving me a not-very-discreet kick. "Cleary, she is a huge fan."

"I love you," I nearly shouted, staring at him in all of his glory.

Frank Lampard laughed again and then (kill me now because life can't be better) pulled me into a hug. "Love you too," he grinned in amusement. “Did you enjoy your time watching training?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded eagerly. “Brilliant!”

Niall rolled his eyes at me and sent an apologetic look at them, but Frank, like the shining knight he is, was utterly gallant and charming.

“I’m glad. I hope you’ll be able to make it to some matches at some point.”

“Uh huh,” I repeated, beaming.

“Yeah, well, right. We best be going,” he smiled again, giving me an awkward wave before nodding at Niall. “Thanks for the autographs, mate, the girls there thrilled.”

“Anytime,” my Irish friend replied, and then Frank and Christine headed back down the hallway arm in arm.

I blinked. “HOLY FUCK.” Niall snorted in laughter as I nearly fell over in shock. “That did not just happen!”

“Happy birthday, love,” he grinned, pulling me in to a hug.

“You’re the best Horan,” I replied, squeezing the life out of him. At least, he was the best until I caught sight of my reflection in one of the mirrors.

“You twat!” I shouted, smacking him on the arm.

“What?” He asked, defensively and confused.

“You let me meet Frank Lampard looking like this??”

**

I forgave Niall quite quickly, though. Even if I looked like I had just been tossed about by a tornado, it still didn’t change the fact that I had just met Frank Lampard and saw Chelsea training. Epic.

We arrived back at the flat after grabbing some Tapas for dinner, and I was still buzzing.

“Want to watch some Inbetweeners?” I asked. “You’re heading to Ireland tomorrow, right? I won’t get to see you!”

The thought was pretty depressing. Though, I was heading back to Doncaster after the Train concert with Harry the next night, so I wouldn’t see him anyway. But still, after three months of constantly being with Niall...I was going to miss the little bugger.

“Yeah, I am,” he shrugged. “But you can come visit, if you want.”

I pushed the door open to Louis and Harry’s flat, but my wide smile dropped quickly, as I heard my brother yelling at his best mate.

Yelling about me.

“She’s my fucking sister!” Louis screamed, his face bright red as he glared at Harry, who was cowering pathetically on the couch.

Niall and I had taken two steps into the living room before stopping and I literally felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. Shit.

“Nothing happened,” Harry defended lamely, not even meeting Louis’ eyes. My throat tightened.
He knew.

“Nothing happened?” Louis cried out, before practically throwing his laptop at Harry. “I’ve got the fucking video of it right there, you dickhead!”

“What’s going on?” Niall asked with concern, taking another step forward.

Their heads shot up, as they had just noticed we had returned. Louis’ blue, rage filled eyes immediately landed on me. I instinctively shrunk back behind Niall, never having seen him so angry before. My heart had literally tightened into such a small bundle that I could barely breathe.

“You,” Louis hissed, coming toward me. “You fucking lied to me.”

“Louis, I’m sorry – “ I stuttered, gripping the back of Niall’s shirt.

“Lou,” the Irishman started, taking a protective step between my brother and me. “What the hell is going on?”

Louis looked furiously around until his eyes landed on his laptop, which was still sitting in a depressed Harry’s lap. Snatching the machine from his flatmate, my brother answered Niall with bitterness etched through his voice.

“These two have been having fucking each other all of tour,” he said smartly, shoving the computer into Niall’s hands. I was able to see over his shoulder – Tumblr. With a video.

What the hell?

“Louis, what is that?” Niall asked, shaking his head. “You can’t really believe that - ”

“Watch it,” he sneered, his eyes glued on me.

Niall didn’t look at me as he pressed play, which I suppose was a good thing, since I would break down right then. I watched the video with absolute mortification over his shoulder, wondering how on earth my luck could be this bad.

It was filmed from a mobile phone, and you could hear some girls giggling in the background.

“Here we are on One Direction’s floor,” the girl was saying as they walked down the corridor. “This here is Harry Styles’ door, should we knock?” she asked her friend, but then they stopped, as muffled voices could clearly be heard through the door. It was me and Harry fighting.

The video cut out, but then started up again from further down the hall. The girls must have been hiding around the corner, whispering to each other, and we able to get a remarkably clear shot of me running out of Harry’s room, shirt and bra half off and looking particularly slaggish.

“Oh my God, that’s Louis’ sister,” one of them gasped and giggled.

There was some more muffled laughter and then the video cut out, going black.

I really couldn’t breath.

“How...who found this?” Niall finally bit out, setting the computer down. He didn’t turn to look at me. All he would have seen were the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“It’s all over the internet,” Louis bit out, not taking his eyes off of me. My stomach twisted and I felt sick. “Management just called me about it.”

“Louis,” I croaked, dragging my gaze up to meet his. “Nothing...nothing - ”

“Nothing happened?” He mocked. “How the hell can you expect me to believe that?”

“Mate, come on,” Harry finally joined in from the couch.

“Don’t fucking mate me,” Louis shot back. “I know exactly what you’re capable of Styles, but I thought you would at least have the decency not to fuck my sister. Is that why you wanted her to stick around this week as well?”

“We didn’t!” I cried, reaching out to him. “Louis, I swear, we didn’t sleep together. I stopped it before it got that far and it ended that night. Nothing’s happened since Auckland!”

Louis froze then and I knew I had said too much.

“Auckland?”

I gulped. “Louis...”

“This video. That’s the night you came to my room, isn’t it?” He asked, realization dawning on his face. “The night you came in wanting to go home. You...you were sobbing...”

Harry was clearly trying to process this new information, and so was a second too slow as Louis lunged at him.

“You fucking bastard!” He yelled, slamming Harry against the wall, knocking pictures to the ground with a shattering crash. I squeaked in shock as my brother hurled his best friend against the wall again, looking apoplectic.

“Louis!” I screamed at him, as Harry struggled to him off. Harry was a lot bigger than him, but Louis had the rage only a protective older brother can have to strengthen him. “Louis, stop!”

Niall jumped forward and tried to pull Louis off, but received an elbow to the jaw for his efforts.

“Louis, please stop!” I yelled, grabbing his arm. “It was my fault! I came on to him! I asked him - ”

“You what?” he asked, finally releasing Harry and turning to me. “You went to him? What the hell is wrong with you? And after I specifically told you not to...and then you lied to me!”

I was cowering under his furious gaze, tears rolling down my cheeks as I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t upset him further.

“Louis...please....”

“No, you know what...no,” he said, staring me down, his voice now quiet and cold. “I can’t even look at you right now, JJ. I was right. You have changed. Your just a drunken little fame whore who - ”

But Louis’ insult was cut off by Niall’s fist connecting with his face.

I jumped in surprise, crying out, as Louis fell back against the side of the couch. The entire room seemed to freeze. Louis lay there, staring up angrily at Niall and rubbing his jaw. Niall stood over him, his back to me, his fists clenched in balls at his sides, and Harry leaned against the wall, his mouth hanging open slightly. The only sound was my sobbing.

Finally, Louis spoke.

“Get the fuck out of my flat.”

Without a word, Niall turned on his heel and headed for the door. I hesitated only a moment, before running after him, grabbing his arm as he made to leave.

“Niall, wait,” I begged, for some reason desperately needing to explain myself. “It’s not...it’s not what it looks like.”

“No, JJ,” He said, not looking at me. “I can’t...I just...I can’t do this right now.” And then he left.

A dart of pain shot through my chest as I saw him by pass the lift and head straight for the stairs and out of my sight. What had I done?

With legs of lead, I made my way back into the flat. Louis was standing again, fuming, while Harry was still in his corner, clearly trying not to get his again.

I didn’t say anything. I just stood silently in the doorway, waiting for instruction.

Louis finally looked up at me, his eye already darkening with a bruise. I winced, looking at him, and knowing that I had caused that.

“I want you out as well,” he said finally, his voice low. “I want you on the next train home.”

“Okay,” I croaked, my throat dry, and without another word I shuffled to my room to pack. That was all I wanted now, as well, to go home.

I was on autopilot for the next twenty minutes or so – looking up train times, packing up my bags and just trying to think of anything besides the fact that I may or may not have just caused the break up of One Direction. I was upset, of course, but I don’t think it had really sunk in...what had just happened...that Louis knew my secret.

What did this mean? Did this mean that One Direction was going to break up? Was I the new Yoko Ono? Would Harry and Louis ever be best friends again? Would Louis ever forgive me? And what would my parents think? I didn’t even want to think about what was spreading around the internet about me...it was enough to make me feel sick.

My mind was so overwhelmed with these thoughts that I didn’t even notice Harry come into my room.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I muttered, after he had cleared his throat and I had jumped about ten feet in the air. “Unless you want Louis to throw you against a wall again.”

“He went out,” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair. I didn’t respond, just went back to packing. “I’m sorry,” Harry finally said. “About everything.”

I sighed. “It’s not completely your fault,” I admitted. “It takes two to tango, remember?”

“Yeah, but Louis shouldn’t have been so hard on you. He’s just angry that we lied to him.”

I swallowed the sob that was building, as an image of Louis’ furious face filled my mind. “I...I don’t think I’ll be going to the concert tomorrow,” I croaked.

Harry took two long steps over to me and pulled me into a tight hug. “It’ will be okay, JJ. He’ll get over it eventually, I promise.”

I stopped packing and looked up at him. “How can you be so sure?”

He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m not. But there really isn’t another option, is there?”