Baby, I Loved You First -one direction group story-

Rosie - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m72v07maH51qg0l4vo1_500.gif

Flori (JulieR97) - http://data.whicdn.com/images/48125793/tumblr_mar67yNJEA1rtbxnq_large.gif

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Rosie's P.O.V
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
The BBC1 radio breakfast show starts at 5am. Five o'clock in the morning. It's host, Nick Grimshaw, is there latest 4:30, Fiona, Matt, and the rest of the crew filling in around 4:45. Being as I am an intern (there for the purpose of serving the people actually working) I should be there at 4:20. That was the deal when I'd signed on to BBC studios.

You see I get to do this instead of a class. I work as an intern for the show 6 days a week (excluding only Saturday's) and I get credits towards school as if it were a class. It's a perfect gig! Especially considering I've been basically obsessed with the bloody show since I was a junior in high school. I'm 20 now, so the obsession has now spanned approximately three years.
So you'd think a girl as dedicated as myself would do everything in my power to be the absolute best at this internship to get a good enough record to be a legitimate writer once I graduate the University of Leeds. And for the most part, I do my best to be the best.

Then again here I am, speeding down the highway going a good thirty miles over the speed limit at 4:55 in the morning. Five minutes. Five freaking minutes. My coffee is spilled all over both myself and the passenger seat, my hair is still a wreck from when I was sleeping, and I have yet to put my arm through the second sleeve of my t-shirt. Thankfully, I've made friends with the group. They were more accustomed to my late arrivals, and pretty half-asssed service. But hey, I was officially 'part of the crew' as Grimmy explained, and therefore I was accepted for my failures (I suppose that's why Dan and Phil haven't been fired)

I kind of skidded to a stop in the parking lot, not even checking the white lines to make sure I was legally in a spot. Now was not the time to be worrying about legal matters. I would've left the door of my car open if I hadn't forgotten the keys were still in the ignition. Two minutes to go, I can make this. As I reached the front door I slipped my hand through the second sleeve, kind of throwing my body in to the door to push it open. With a huff, I made it in to the lobby, feeling and probably looking as though I was in one of those 'end-of-the-world' action movies. So that could explain why the secretary looked at me like I had ten heads, because at the moment it felt like I actually did.

I tugged on my lanyard and quickly flashed my ID over the scanner on the main desk. With an approving 'beep' the elevator doors open and I launched myself inside.
Floor five, floor five, floor five. Yes! Okay, one minute. This is it. I saw the light 'On/Off Air' go black. That means Fiona is about to turn it to 'On Air'. I sprinted to the glass door of the sound room, pulling it open with all my might because crap, this door weighs at least half my body weight.
"MADE IT!" I screamed/gasped/sobbed as I stepped inside. My hands clutched my knees, my whole body hunched over as I heaved in exasperated pants.

There was silence, and as I slowly lifted myself back up, I went totally red faced. Grimmy looked from behind his mic, his mouth still ajar as he was just in the middle of talking to the thousands of Brits tuned in to the Breakfast show. And who was the idiot who decided to bust in like a complete maniac, screaming and panting like an animal. Of fucking coarse.
"Don't worry world, someone isn't being murdered. That was our lovely intern Rosie Enoraffac very triumphantly announcing to us she's made it here ONE MINUTE LATE!" He screamed the last part, and I pitied all the listeners waking up to his screaming voice. I love Grimmy to death but Jesus he was too perky in the morning.

I mouthed a 'sorry' and tiptoed over to the sound proof room alongside the studio. After some chuckles from the sound table they were back on their game and reporting the morning traffic.
"Dignified. Dramatic, a little pathetic. But dignified" Fiona said as I walked in, tucking my still unruly black curls behind my ear.
I nodded, collapsing in the seat across her and letting my head loll to the back of the chair, "I was going for the 'my whole family was eaten by zombies but I ran all the way from America to safety' kinda act. You know sad enough to make you cry, but triumphant enough to make you cry tears of joy-"

"I get it" She interrupted, raising an eyebrow and getting up to make her own coffee considering her intern wasn't very suited for her job.

- - -

There's a difference between a 'student writer' and an 'intern'. An intern get's the writers coffee, and files their paperwork, and watches agonizingly close to the real action they could only dream to be apart of. Sure they'll get credits to get that job they're watching other people do when school ends, but still internships suck.
On the other hand a student writer is a very different story. You actually write and do stuff. The only thing is you don't get paid for it, and you'd have to take it out of school. Plus being a student writer doesn't mean you can then drop that class.

Anywho, that's what I am for the online magazine Sugarscape.
It's a fairly unknown magazine, if you aren't a directioer that is. And being as I only ever heard of the BBC breakfast show because Harry Styles' was on it once, you can imagine how I discovered Sugarscape. Yes, I am a pretty dedicated directioner. Obsessed is probably a better word. Thankfully school has cut down my time on tumblr: scrolling through picture after picture and eating the local grocery store's supply of Nutella because jesus christ does Liam Payne ever stop getting so bloody hot, and Louis Tomlinson, oh god you do not make it through three years of being a Louis' girl without having an emotional breakdown at least twice a week- Okay you see my point.

After school on Tuesday's and Thursday's I head over to the Sugascape HQ to sit, eat, and gossip about celebrity's that have no idea I exist. My work isn't the kind of stuff they tweet about. Usually I'm just the little filler articles there for show. Yet I don't mind. I've made friends with these girls and even a few boys, and yeah I'm pretty proud of the stuff I do write but that doesn't deter me any bit. As much pride as I have I know it'll only ruin me, therefore a small article at the very bottom of a webpage won't bother me. I'm lucky enough to be writing.

"Hear there's gonna be a new girl" The head of our floor, Jane, literally lived for gossip. She just turned 32, but still celebrates her 29th. She has two kids and a husband yet still reads Ziam Mayne fanfiction. In short, she's who I plan to be in 12 years.
"Well shouldn't you know that seeing as you're the head of our department-"
"Her name's Florence. Isn't that awesome? Like Florence Welch. Can you do a story on her? She's coming in as an intern on Thursday and I have a job for you" She explained.

"Well wouldn't that job be to write a story on her like you just said-"
"I want you to show her the ropes. She's interning for like Tuesday's, Wednesday's, and Thursday's. I'll need you to come in an extra day if that's alright. She wants to be a photographer and all journalists have a partner in crime. And in this case you two would be like the student journalist with her student photographer! How cute would that be!-"

This is called a 'Jant' to our floor. A Jane rant, hence the name Jant. She just goes on and on about a topic till you completely lose her but you have to keep nodding and at least act as though you're following along because she does control your job status.
My mind keeps running to this girl coming in. I mean it'll be cool to have another student around to hang out with. And I have to 'show her the ropes'? I guess I've been here since like July and it's March now so I guess I do know a lot.

Like how you have to place your coffee mug a little to the left of the spout, or how you do not talk to Jake in the morning or he will shamelessly kick you in the shins no matter how old you are or how long you've known him.
And coming in on Wednesday's? Naw, I don't care at all. Like I said, we're all friend's here. Sure I may gain 15 more pounds but it's alright, I'm really excited to meet the new girl.

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