The week went by far too slowly for me. Louis was out and about visiting friends and other members of the family, while I floated around the house doing whatever I could to stay on Mum’s good side.

She hadn’t taken the news well, to be honest. Louis had, true to his word, spoken to Management the very next day and though I wasn’t present for the conversation, it did take a bit of convincing on Louis’s part. In the end, I was allowed to come, as long as I followed a certain set of rules that would be provided to me before we left. While I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to my meeting with Management, I was really willing to do anything to go.

Mum was definitely harder to convince. Louis had to talk to her for hours before I was even allowed to join in on the discussions, and then I had to swear left and right that I wasn’t taking this as an opportunity to completely lark about and would actually do things to boost my CV.

She still wasn’t happy about it, but she couldn’t really say no to Louis. Dad merely shrugged and told me not to get pregnant. Thanks, Dad.

Finally, Friday rolled around, my last day in Doncaster. We spent the day as a family, which meant that Dad came over for an awkward brunch, before we all headed out to the park for a Tomlinson family football match. Unfortunately for me, this meant officiating from the bench, as I wasn’t allowed to run about. But, again, I was willing to put up with it, since I was leaving.

Slowness runs in our family, I’m sure, since though we were supposed to leave right after dinner, Louis and I didn’t even start loading up his car until closer to 9:00pm. His car, a very practical Porsche, could barely fit my one suitcase in the trunk, so we were lucky that most of Louis’s clothes were at his flat in London.

But then we were off, for three and half hours in his tiny little car, on my way to a new chapter of my life.

Louis and I sang along to my iPod, Louis loving the randomness of the songs that popped up. After one rousing rendition of ‘Grillz’ by Nelly, Louis turned the volume down and glanced over at me.

“So,” he started and I rolled my eyes.

“What is it, Lou?” I asked.

“Are you going to tell me about Nathan at all?”

My chest tightened involuntarily. I didn’t want to talk about Nathan, the prat. But, this was Louis, so I didn’t really have a choice.

“He broke up with me,” I shrugged, looking out the window at the dark sky. “Apparently he’d been shagging Celia Donavan for a while, but didn’t tell me till after I had my surgery. He was just waiting until I couldn’t kick his arse, I suppose.”

Louis didn’t say anything, but I could see his grip on the wheel tighten. Finally, through gritted teeth, he said, “I’m sorry JJ. I know you really liked him.”

I did like him, I suppose. I did not love him, though. Certainly, not. No, Nathan just happened to be the first boy who ever paid me attention, and even though I knew him to be a bit of a wanker, I figured he was better than going through my entire teenage years boyfriend-less. So, we went out, held hands, snogged every once in a while, but I definitely noticed that Nathan was not that interested in sleeping with me. I wanted to, especially after we had been going out for a few months, since I thought it was expected at that point. But he never seemed in the mood. Turns out, that’s because he was getting it all from that slag Celia Donovan on the side.

“Well, I don’t want to say this, but it’s something that Management will bring up, so I might as well warn you,” Louis continued, before sending me a significant look. “No getting involved with any of the lads, yeah?”

I let out a short laugh. “Louis, come on. You know that I don’t look at them like that and they certainly don’t look at me that way. They could have any girl in the world.”

It was true. I had met the boys a few times before and knew them all fairly well. We all got along well, and while there was no doubt they were all attractive, I really couldn’t see myself with any of them. With thousands of girls throwing themselves at them on a daily basis, there was no way that they would find anything in me besides a friend.

“I just needed to hear myself say it,” Louis replied. “And again, it’s going to be an issue for Management, I promise you. They don’t even like the fact that Liam and I have girl friends.”

“Twats,” I said, shaking my head. Louis laughed in agreement.

“Speaking of which,” Louis continued, “You aren’t going to be one to our fans are you?”

“Me? Louis, I resent the implication that I would not be a complete and utter angel to all your stalkers. I mean fans. Did I just say that? Weird.”

Louis laughed. “I just know how you feel about them.”

“Hey, as long as they don’t trample me as they are chasing after you, or break into my room or something, we’ll be just fine.” It was true, I wasn’t the biggest Directioner fan, mostly because they sat outside our house and were always asking me for favors and where Louis was. Bit annoying, to be honest.

After listening the all of The White Album, Toys in the Attic, and getting through three quarters of (What’s the Story?) Morning Glory, Louis and I finally made it to London. I had always loved this city and wished I had gotten to visit more often when I was younger. It was late, nearing 2 am when we finally arrived (Louis was a terribly slow driver, even in a Porsche), so I was barely awake when finally arrived at Louis’s.

He lived in a rather posh suburb, in a gated community with the other lads. His apartment complex was a bit ghastly, if you ask me, and it looked like something straight out of Downton Abbey. The last time I had been here was just after Louis and Harry had moved into their flat, and if the outside was imposing, the inside was just terrifying. To me, it looked like something out of an Austin Powers film, but with some futuristic aspects as well - a bit of a sixties shag den meets Starship Enterprise. Not my cuppa to say the least, but Louis and Harry loved it. I suppose it didn’t hurt that Ashley Cole used to live there (explains the audacity of some of the design choices) and honestly, what lad doesn’t want to live the footballer lifestyle?

“Harry?” Louis called through the monstrous flat once the lift doors opened onto his floor. I was still amazed by it all. I had only just won my long-time battle for my own room when Louis had his own private lift. Louis flicked the lights on – either Harry was out or he had already gone up to bed.

He moved forward, instantly making himself at home - which, I had to keep reminding myself, he was. This was his home now. Kicking off his shoes and dropping his coat over a chair in the entryway, Louis left me behind to drag my suitcase in on my own. With an annoyed grunt, I dropped the weighty thing on his new pair of Toms and, for good measure, kicked them a bit as well, making sure to get some wet slush all over the white outside. Who buys white shoes in the middle of winter, though, honestly?

“I’m gonna make some tea, do you want some?” Louis asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No, I think I’m just going to head up,” I replied, beginning to haul my bags back to the guest room.

“Alright, sleep well,” my brother replied, before disappearing behind the corner. I made it to the guest room and collapsed on the bed. No matter how exhausted I was, I knew I wasn’t going to be sleeping much. Tomorrow, the adventure started.

***

The next morning, I woke up in the king size bed, bright sunshine flooding through the window. Cursing myself for not closing the blinds, I pulled a pillow over my head and groaned. I hated waking up early. I could sleep all day if I was allowed. But then, I remembered where I was.

Sitting bolt upright, I stared around the room. It was a bit of a mess, not only with my clothes (I couldn’t find my pajamas in my suitcase, so settled for some gym shorts and a t-shirt), but also with random things that the boys had collected: posters, scrapbooks, stuffed animals, pictures, jewelry, CDs…all things that fans had given them throughout their travels.

Honestly, I was surprised they tried to keep it all, and though it wasn’t very well organized, it was clear that they really hadn’t been throwing much, if any, away.

Rubbing the sleepiness out of my eyes, I crawled out of the unbelievably comfortable bed and glanced at the clock: 11:30am. Figuring it was time to head out into the world (and my rumbling stomach agreed with me), I pulled my hair back into a messy bun and headed out into the main part of the flat.

I could hear Louis and Harry talking in the living room, watching television. When I entered, Louis was sitting on one side of the sectional, munching on a frozen waffle, his hair sticking out in all directions. Clearly, he had just woken up as well. On the other side of the couch, with his back to me, was a mop of curly brown hair.

Harry.

The two of them were watching a Top Gear rerun and eating breakfast. I took a few steps into the room, and Louis caught a sight of me.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, Haz,” Louis grinned, and I took a running leap, launching myself over the back of the couch, landing next to Harry Styles with a soft thud. He jumped about a foot in the air, eyes widening as I surprised him.

“How’s it hanging, Styles?” I asked cheekily.

“JJ!” He said happily, one he composed himself, and pulled me into a tight hug.

Harry and I were pretty close, simply because he and my brother had been inseparable since the band got together. We were fairly good friends, although he wasn’t someone I would have hung out with if we hadn’t had the Louis connection. At my school, Harry would have been one of the popular boys, someone that wouldn’t take much notice of me, and who I thought too good for me to associate with. As it were, I enjoyed his company, though and thought he was pretty funny, despite his almost unconscious attempts to chat me up. I was generally flattered; even though I knew he only did it get a rise out of Louis.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking between the two of us. Louis was grinning happily, taking another bite of his waffle.

“Well,” I began, looking over at Louis to make sure I could continue. “I’m actually going to be joining you lot on tour.”

“Really?” he asked, slightly surprised, but not losing his smile. “That’s brilliant.” Then, that mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “So, I guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, yeah?” he asked, snaking his arm around my shoulders.

“Hands off!” Louis said sternly.

Harry chuckled and looked back over at his friend. “Oh come on, Louis, you know I’m only teasing. I’m wouldn’t actually ever try to pull her.” I ignored the slight pang of hurt that coursed through me, as he said it. Not that I fancied Harry, but it would be nice to think he could fancy me.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Haz, it’s just that I don’t trust your penis.”

I snorted in laughter as Harry shrugged. “Fair play, mate.”

“Alright, so, I’m laying down some ground rules,” Louis continued. “This applies to everyone, but mostly to you, Styles. There will be no snogging my sister. There will be no flirting with my sister. There will be no leering, ogling, or sizing up my sister.” Louis counted off on his fingers.

“You might need to write all these down, I don’t think I can remember.”

“There will be no making lewd or suggestive comments about my sister. There will be no staring at my sister for longer than three seconds without looking away. There will be no complimenting my sister.”

“What if they want to tell me how good my cooking is?”

“Don’t take the piss, JJ. No one would ever tell you that.”

“Fair enough.”

“There will be no acknowledgment that my sister is in fact, a girl, and certainly no mention of the fact that she might even have tits and/or a vagina.”

“But I do have tits and a vagina,” I protested. This was getting a bit ridiculous. “I even have a bit of arse.”

I stood up to prove this fact, sticking my rear end out towards Harry. He tilted his head to the side and examined it briefly.

“Meh, it’s alright,” he replied, before dodging a pillow that Louis had hurled at him. “What? I didn’t compliment her and didn’t stare for more than three seconds!”

“Alright, no looking at her at all!” Louis cried, trying not to laugh. Harry was grinning like a fool and I couldn’t help but giggle at Louis’ vain attempts to be a protective big brother. They would never take him seriously. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along!” He shot at me and I immediately sobered up.

“Come on, Lou, we’re going to have a good time, yeah?” Harry laughed. “Have you told the others yet?”

“Nope,” Louis replied. “Although I told them to come over for a family meeting.”

“Family meeting?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“You need to be officially voted in,” Harry supplied.

“Oh. Right.” I looked at the two of them, wondering if they were serious. Neither of them said anything, though, and Harry stood up. “Well, when are they getting here?”

As if on cue, the lift doors open and Zayn Malik walked through, looking impeccably quaffed and done up, as only Zayn Malik can. It suddenly made me completely away of how horrid I appeared. Jumping up, I waved at Zayn and sprinted toward the bathroom, hoping to shower before the others arrived and my terrible look was permanently etched into their poor brains.

“Oh, hi!” Zayn called after me, sounding utterly confused.

By the time I returned, dressed and ready for the day, Niall had also arrived to the flat. I gave Zayn a proper greeting before pouncing on the Irishman – besides my brother, Niall and I got on the best. I don’t know why, but the first time we met, we clicked – similar likes and dislikes, similar view of the world, not to mention that I couldn’t help but laugh every time he said something (his accent was beyond adorable) and Niall just liked to laugh, so we got on really well.

“Nialler!” I grinned, as we hugged. He was a fantastic hugger.

“You didn’t tell me you were visiting,” he reprimanded, as we both sat down on the couch.
“It was a surprise,” I replied, looking up at Louis, who had stood up on front of all of them.

“Well, now that I have you all gathered,” Louis began. I glanced around, and raised my hand. He stopped and looked at me. “Yes, you there with grey shirt, do you have a question.”

“Yes,” I said, dropping my hand to my lap. “I could be completely wrong and do tell me if I am, but I was pretty sure there were five of you?”

The others looked around. “Right,” Louis replied. “Liam’s busy. Anyway, you’ve all be gathered here for a very important discussion. I’d like to introduce you all to my sister, JJ. JJ, stand up.”
I sent him a look, but stood up and bowed. The boys all clapped enthusiastically.

“JJ has asked a favor of me, but of course, I need to run it all by you first. She would like to join us on our North American promo tour and our mini tour of Australia and New Zealand. So, we will vote to be sure, but I’d present to you…our new personal assistant!”

I stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Harry’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, while Zayn clapped excitedly. Niall seemed confused, as usual. This was not what I was expecting – I mean, I guess I should have been expecting it, since it was Louis that I had put my faith in, after all. I had been hoping to be their photographer, or official blogger, or professional Directioner hazer.

“Personal Assistant? This is going to be brilliant,” Harry smiled, and I could almost see the insane requests forming his brain.

“Remember the rules, Styles,” Louis reprimanded him. Harry pouted – apparently some of his ideas had been thwarted.

“So, what exactly am I going to have to do?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Whatever we ask of you, little sis,” Louis grinned. “Except Hazza. You don’t have to do anything for him you don’t want to.”

“Do I at least get paid?” I asked hopefully.

“Not a quid.”

“Right. Wonderful.”

“Hey, you wanted this,” he replied, still smiling. “You asked to come along.”

“But I didn’t think you liked us,” Zayn said, looking confused.

I sighed in exasperation. “Bloody hell, I like you, okay? Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Maybe because you’ve called us the Spice Guys and gave us each new nicknames.”

“And you told Simon that we’re his mid-life crisis and none-too-subtly hinted that he might be a pedophile.”

“And you said every time a fan follows you on Twitter, you feel like kicking a puppy.”

“And you said that Directioners are some of the most frightening girls you’ve ever seen and might be an even greater threat to the future of humanity than global warming and Rebecca Black combined.”

“And then, when we hit number 1 in the US, you said that John Lennon was rolling over in his grave.”

“Okay, fine!” I shouted, trying not to laugh. “I may have been a bit harsh at times. But that last one…you know how I feel about The Beatles and the comparisons were just getting out of hand. I do like One Direction,” I said with finality. “I do. I mean, I’ll be honest, I love bands that actually play instruments the most, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you guys. Your stuff is…catchy.”

“Catchy?” Harry laughed. “Very convincing, JJ.”

“I play guitar,” Niall grinned proudly at me.

“I know you do, Irish,” I replied, patting him on the knee. “And that’s why you’re my favorite.”

“But I thought I was your favorite,” pouted Harry.

I rolled my eyes. “Hazza, you don’t even make the top five.”

“But there are only five of us!”

“What’s your favorite song then?” Zayn asked, as if quizzing me.

“One Thing,” I responded without hesitation. “Which I know is a safe answer, but it’s the truth. And I know that you can all sing, that was never in question.”

“It will be nice to have a girl around. One that isn’t screaming, I mean.”

“Thank you, Niall,” I said, smiling at him.

“Alright, so are we putting to a vote then?” Louis asked, looking at the group of them. “All in favor of letting Johanna Jane Tomlinson come along with One Direction to the U.S. and Australia/New Zealand say aye!”

There was a chorus of ‘ayes’ and four hands shot in the air.

“Alright, four votes in favor and one abstention,” Louis grinned at me. “Looks like you’re in!”

I didn’t know I had been nervous, but seeing them all smile at me and knowing that I was officially going with them was a weight off of my chest. Then, I saw Louis pull a piece of paper out of his pocket (how he fit anything in there, I’ll never know – his trousers are obnoxiously tight) and handed it to me.

“What is it?”

“Your first assignment, Ass. Ass is short for ‘Assistant’ in case you were wondering. We’re having a party here tonight and we need you to go shopping.”

I unfolded the paper and looked at the list, which seemed endless.

“How on earth am I supposed to get all this? I don’t have car.”

“Not my problem,” Louis laughed.

“Ugh, fine,” I replied, standing up. “Come on, Niall.”

“Wait, I don’t want to go,” he replied frowning.

“I’ll let you pick out what biscuits we’re getting.”

“See you later, lads,” Niall said, jumping up and following me out the door.