There were too many people in the world and a painful shortage of buses. That was all Ishaana could think as she stood on the pavement beneath a sign that advertised a bus stop along with twenty other students who had just finished their final lectures and seminars before reading week commenced, clustered around the bus stop as they waited for a vehicle that would invariable have a chronic lack of seats. Before the bus had even arrived, already seven minutes late, she had resigned herself to standing for the twenty minute journey hone. As much as she loved the student flat she shared with her two best friends, she hated that its location necessitated a twenty minute trundle into the city centre.

Nine minutes after it was due, the heaving bus creaked to a halt just outside the yellow box assigned to its stop and Ishaana let out a sigh of defeat. The bus was already crammed, packed with students who lived too far from university to walk, and there was no way another twenty could be shoehorned on, but she wanted to get home and she inched closer to the door as a couple of people squeezed off, her bus pass at the ready as she slipped through the doors and flashed it at the driver, wrapping one arm around the pole to hold on for dear life. She was used to the bumbling country buses she had grown up on back home, but the drivers in Manchester seemed to drive with a death wish.

Ten people got on. The rest were forced to wait for the next bus and she watched them as the bus pulled away, too tightly packed with bodies for her to fall if the driver jerked to a stop. She wrinkled her nose against the vague stench of body odour, pressing her face into her sleeve to lessen the blow of the offensive smell. Although being packed like a sardine onto an overcrowded, stinking bus was almost a daily occurrence, Ishaana would never be ok with it and the journey could not pass quickly enough, blaring a seventies playlist a little louder than she was comfortable with in order to drown out the coughing and sniffing and mumbled conversations that always irritated her even more on a Friday afternoon.

She had made it to the end of the week, and a disgusting bus journey was the last way she wanted to begin a couple of days of freedom, but it was unavoidable. Taxis were extortionate, especially with the pathetic remains of her student loan once she paid her rent and her bills each week. Three hundred and sixty pounds a month was a slap in the face for what was easily a below-average student house, with hot water that wasn't quite hot enough and cheap walls that were far too thin, but it was home. It had been for a year and a half, and she hated to think that she only had that amount of time again before she would have to move out, with no clue where to go next.

After twenty-one minutes, sixty seconds longer than average but twelve minutes faster than the slowest journey, Ishaana forced her way off the bus, shoving through the tight throng, and she gasped a lungful of fresh air as she rearranged her bag on her back. Her laptop thudded against the base of her spine as she strode down the road to her house, turning down a slightly dodgy mews that led to a short row of four terraced houses. The final door was the one to which her key belonged and she twisted it in the lock before kicking off her shoes in the hallway, letting her bag drop to her elbow.

"Hey," she called, always announcing her arrival when she got home each day, and she immediately heard the thump of her housemate jumping of her bed overhead, rushing towards the stairs.

"Ishy?" Melody yelled as she appeared at the top of the steps, her auburn hair glowing in the light that illuminated the landing.

"No, it's Santa Claus," Ishaana said, wandering through the open plan sitting room to the kitchen and she heard Melody following her, once she had trotted down the stairs. "Tea?"

"Mmm, yes please, I'm gasping for a cuppa," Melody said. Her grey eyes seemed brighter than usual, slightly magnified by the glasses that she wore high up on her freckled nose, and dimples were forced into her bright cheeks. Ishaana eyed her as she took one mug out of her own cupboard and one from Melody's. The kitchen was spotless, the counter beside the sink empty of dirty dishes and even the drying rack was clear, everything stacked away in the appropriate cupboards and drawers. The sofa cushions had been fluffed up, DVD cases piled up neatly in the TV stand, and even the floor was shining.

"Have you tidied?" she asked, glancing at her friend over her shoulder with confusion between her thick brows. She had never done anything to her eyebrows, short of plucking the odd stray hair that grew up the gap above the bridge of her nose, and she laughed off anyone who suggested she tame the black caterpillars.

"Yeah, just a bit," Melody said. She pushed her glasses higher up her nose and grinned, showing off the little snaggletooth fangs she had grown to adore, and Ishaana narrowed her eyes. Melody was always bubbly, but there seemed to be something more to it today, something under the surface of her eager beam and her overzealous tidying.

"What's got you so excited?" she asked, assessing her friend's grin and the slip of paper she was gripping in both hands. She nodded at the sheet, tipping her head as she dropped a teabag into Melody's mug and a teaspoon of coffee into her own.

"Guess what?" Melody was bouncing on the balls of her feet, a veritable bundle of energy: even her ponytail was jiggling, copper locks tickling the nape of her neck. Ishaana pursed her lips, trying to think what could make her friend so happy, but that list was endless: she was an optimist who saw the best in everything and everyone, even squealing with joy at the ping of the microwave when her food was done.

"You got a new dildo and you can't wait to try it out?" Ishaana proffered with a chuckle. "Or you already did try it out and you just have to tell me all about it?" She held out the tea to her friend, who looked a little stunned for a moment before she shook her head, laughter on her lips.

"Well, yes, actually, but that's not what I was going for," she said, and she held out the slip of paper in exchange for her mug. It was one that her mother had made, clean white ceramic with purple polka dots and a giant M painted in hot pink, Melody's favourite colour. She took a sip of the sweet tea with a satisfied smile. "I got tickets to South Season on Sunday," she said, her cheeks flushed with overexcitement and she raised her eyebrows at her friend, waiting for a reaction.

Ishaana smirked, then turned the expression into a smile as she sat and sipped her decaffeinated coffee. It was already half past five and she was looking forward to an early night, the perfect way to kick off a week of no university, and she relished in the first mouthful before she addressed what her friend had just said. South Season had come fourth in a talent show almost exactly a year ago, despite predictions that they would win, and their fame had grown ever since. Their awkward British charm seemed to have carried across the pond, infecting America, and they were already set to be the next One Direction. But they weren't Ishaana's type: the majority of their fan base was made up of screaming girls aged ten to fifteen, and Melody.

"Awesome," she said at last, trying to sound genuine when she knew how much she adored the cheesy music. She glanced down at the paper Melody had given her, a receipt for the ticket purchase, and she let it flutter to the table. "Congrats, Mel. You going with your sister?"

With a splutter of a laugh, dribbling tea down her chin, Melody effusively shook her head. "God, no. Nora hates them. She's always ranting about how they're just a bunch of talentless prepubescent boys who got lucky."

Ishaana snorted and nodded, shrugging one shoulder. She had only met Melody's stepsister a handful of times but she had a feeling the two of them would get on well, sharing a bond of scepticism towards Melody's misguided love of bad pop music and animated films. "You taking Pearl then?" she asked, wondering where her other flatmate was. She was usually around on a Friday afternoon, her nose buried in a book of her choice as a celebration of the weekend, rather than trawling through one of the novels on the set list for her English degree.

"No," Melody said, sipping her tea. "She left this afternoon. She's spending reading week with her brother. She said she'll be back next Friday." She trailed off, her voice quietening as Ishaana realised what she was implying and she groaned, sinking forward over her knees .

"Oh, God," she muttered. "You want me to go with you? To South Season? Really, Mel, I think even your mum would rather go."

Melody sighed. "Literally true," she said, "but Mum's busy. You're my best friend, Ishy. And I don't expect you to pay for the ticket or anything, but I didn't want to go on my own and I know you're not doing anything, and I think we could have a fun time." She pulled her most convincing pout, gazing at Ishaana with huge puppy dog eyes.

Ishaana didn't like the band. She shared Nora's view that they were little more than a group of guys with better luck than voices. Their songs, none of which they had written themselves, were instant chart hits thanks to vague lyrics that spoke to the souls of the thousands of girls who worshipped their every line, and she wasn't buying it. Even Melody wasn't dense enough to believe a word, but the band had been a guilty pleasure when they had been talent show contestants and that had developed into a full-blown love of their music.

"I don't know, Mel. Are you sure Pearl's not around?"

Melody shook her head. "She's gone to Edinburgh. You'd be doing this for me, Ishy. And I'd really owe you one if you came with me. I know you're not a fan but don't think of it as being about the music: think of it as being about you and me having fun, going to a concert together." She rested her elbows on her knees, mug clasped in both hands, her eyes fixed on Ishaana who was racking her brains for alternatives.

"You could ask Priya?" she offered, a suggestion that was met with an exaggerated laugh.

"Ha!" Melody cried. "As if. Your sister is literally the only thirteen-year-old girl I know who doesn't like South Season. I think she might actually be defective."

Grinning, Ishaana shook her head. "I've taught her well," she said. "Us Jain women are immune to boy bands."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't say the same for Morley women, Ish. And you're an honorary Morley, especially from seven until eleven this Sunday."

It was impossible to say no to Melody, who had been almost the only consistency in the past few years of Ishaana's tumultuous life. When university had pulled her away from Priya, she had clung to her new best friend and now, almost two years later, they were peas in a pod. Whatever Ishaana needed and whenever she needed it, whether it was a shoulder to cry on or an ear to rant to, Melody was ready and waiting with a cup of tea and a comforting hug. This was the least she could do, to give back just a fraction of everything Melody had given her.

"Where is it?" she tentatively asked, swirling her coffee round before she swallowed a huge mouthful. No part of her was interested in going to a South Season concert when she didn't particularly like concerts at all, let alone overrated boy bands, but there was no way she was about to let Melody go alone, especially when every other option had been exhausted. Teenage girls could be aggressive when it came to the singers they idolised and alone, Melody was a vulnerable target.

"Birmingham," she said. "I already got cheap train tickets and the concert is supposed to end in time to get the last train back, though worst case scenario, there are hotels for thirty quid. I just want your company, Ishy. It's a couple of hours; it'll be fun. And if you really hate it, then you can hold it over me for, like, at least six months." Shifting closer to the edge of her seat, she set her mug down on the coffee table and planted her hands on Ishaana's knees. "Please, Ishy. For me."

Ishaana's hand dropped to her side, brushing against the soft hair of their lazy tabby cat, Tigger. The fat moggy lay sleeping on the sofa, where she could be found for hours each day, hardly moving except to eat and occasionally prowl around the streets outside. Animals weren't technically allowed in the house but Melody had kept her tortoise in her room since the beginning: the landlord hadn't been round once in over a year and when Tigger had shown up on the doorstep as a bedraggled kitten eighteen months ago, she had been welcomed by the three girls who took it in turns to buy cat food.

With a long, calculated sigh, stroking Tigger's fur, Ishaana took another sip of her coffee and slowly nodded, her head almost imperceptibly bobbing. "Ok," she said. "Only because you're my best friend and I love you. And because you'd get crushed to death if you went on your own, and I doubt Pearl and I would be able to find a replacement roommate at this point. And I really can't afford an extra forty-five quid a week."

"Yes!" Melody cried out, clapping her hands together as she jumped to her feet, tugging Ishaana up into a hug and only narrowly missing having hot coffee spilt all over herself. "You rock, Ishy. And I swear, it will be more fun than you expect. Free night of entertainment; how can you say no?"

"It's not free," Ishaana said. "You paid for those tickets. I'll pay you back for mine."

Melody shook her head, her ponytail whipping behind her. "Nope, you won't. This is on me. I know you'd rather not go but I didn't want to go on my own. I can't force you to go and make you pay. I'm not that much of an arsehole. But you know I've wanted to see them ever since before they were even famous."

Ishaana chuckled and nodded. They had watched the show each week as a house, unable to escape when Melody had commanded the television for those two hours every Saturday, and they had watched on as she had slowly grown more and more obsessed with the band, raving about their music and their charisma as though she had been converted to a new religion. "Are you sure, Mel?"

"Absolutely," she said with a confident nod, flicking the back of her wrist up to adjust her glasses, and she stared into Ishaana's eyes. "Thank you, Ishy, Really. You're a good friend. It really does mean a lot to me that you're gonna come."

Ishaana laughed. It wasn't like she had much choice, but she didn't say that. "My pleasure," she said instead. "You know, for a lesbian, you're weirdly obsessed with these guys."

Melody rolled her eyes dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa, and Ishaana mouthed along when she said, "It's not them, it's their music." She always said the same thing, though Ishaana couldn't see the appeal, and neither could Pearl. For most fans of the band, a large part of the appeal was their looks, and Ishaana would be lying if she had never had the slightest crush on any of them. They were an attractive group that she would happily get stuck right in the middle of, but they held none of that appeal for Melody when she had never had the slightest interest in men.

"Anyway," Melody said, performing a dramatic spin away from the sofa and towards the kitchen, "we're going to have an awesome time. Maybe we'll even be able to, I don't know, sneak backstage or something. Maybe they'll pick you out of the crowd and serenade you: a song for Ishaana, the most beautiful girl in the room who hates them."

Kicking up her feet on the coffee table, Ishaana rolled her eyes and took out her phone, scrolling to her sister's name in her inbox. It was always fairly close to the top when the only people she texted were her flatmates, her sister and her aunt, and perhaps the occasional date who made their way into her phone and she never got round to deleting their conversations once she had moved on. Typing out a quick message to her little sister, she hardly had to wait long for a response from the girl who was glued to her phone.

A smile tickling her lips, Ishaana crossed her ankles and texted with both thumbs, her body sinking between the two sofa cushions. She could always rely on Priya for a prompt and dramatic response to any message. Before responding, she took a moment to scratch between Tigger's ears until the useless lump of a cat purred her rumbling satisfaction, her front paws stretching out to pummel the cushion.

Ishaana smiled at the last half of her sister's message, and she realised that it had been a while since she had last messaged her aunt, Sunita. She and Priya had moved in almost two years ago but when she spent so much of her time at university, which had begun just a few months after the move, she hadn't had the time to bond with her aunt. Not in the way that Priya did, living there twenty-four seven along with their cousin, Saffiya, who was exactly halfway between them in age. There were times when Ishaana felt like she had become an outsider in her own family, isolating herself in a city seventy miles from the place she was supposed to call home, and that made it all the more difficult to slip into life back in Farnleigh.

"Who're you texting?" Melody asked as she busied about in the cupboards, a plate in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"Priya," Ishaana said. "She's horrified. What're you up to in there?"

"Making supper," she replied, the most obvious reason for her to be clanging around in the kitchen. "Just the two of us tonight so I thought I'd make a nosh with a shit ton of meat."

Ishaana chuckled, the two of them openly despairing of Pearl's pescetarianism. As a threesome who were all fairly capable in the kitchen, they quite enjoyed cooking for each other but there were only so many times a week that Ishaana could go without her meat fix and fish just didn't make up for it. "Sounds perfect," she said, unfolding herself from the sofa with a sigh as she wandered into the kitchen, sniffing the air.

"I already made it," Melody explained, nudging the oven door with her foot. Inside, a casserole dish was keeping warm, the most delicious scents getting stronger the closer Ishaana got to the oven. "I just need to get the rice done, then we can eat."

"You didn't need to cook today," she said. "I figured it was going to be, like, a take away night or something."

"Think of it as an extra thank you." Melody poured half a cup of rice into a pan of boiling water and she added a few pinches of salt.

"Jeez, Mel, you already paid for the ticket. You don't need to thank me just for agreeing to come with you. Really, it's fine. Though I really need to keep my eyes peeled for cute girls who like South Season, match you up with someone. Isn't your sister, like, some genius matchmaker?"

"Yeah, in Farnleigh," Melody said with a roll of her eyes. "There are loads of cute Seasoners. It's lesbian Seasoners that are impossible to find. I think I might literally be the only one. At least the only sane one."

Raising her eyebrows, Ishaana hauled the cat onto her lap and said nothing for a moment, letting her expression do the talking. "Maybe that says something about your sanity."

Before another word was said, the house filled with the first song off South Season's latest album when Melody switched on her Bluetooth speaker and danced around the kitchen, using the spatula as a microphone. She bobbed her head with far more enthusiasm than the song required, shaking her hips as she sang along in perfect harmony. Melody was a musical girl, rhythm flowing through her body, and she had ached to be on the stage ever since she was a little girl. Her constant singing didn't bother Ishaana: at least she was good, with the voice of an angel that could often be heard drifting through the house.

"You're better than them," Ishaana snorted, muddling up a compliment with her disdain for the band as she swung open the fridge and took a bottle of cider from the shelf, cracking off the top and opening another that she handed to Melody, who used it as a microphone for the next few lines before she took a swig.

"Cheers," she said with a gasp when the fizz of fruity alcohol hit her tongue, and she clinked the neck of her bottle against Ishaana's. She turned the music down a notch to speak, toasting to her friend as she stirred the rice. "Here's to Sunday. You'll be a Seasoner before you know it, Ishy, I promise. And I'll get to Priya too."

"And Nora?" Ishaana asked, one eyebrow raised, and Melody pursed her lips.

"That might take some time," she admitted. "But we'll get there. In the meantime, you and I are gonna go to the concert and you're going to love it, and you'll realise that sometimes it's fun to step outside your comfort zone."

Ishaana gave her a look, slowly sipping the cider and relishing in the sweet tang that bubbled on her tongue. "Mel, I don't have a comfort zone. My life is an open book," she said. She had decided that two years ago, when everything she had known had been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. Life was for living, and if that meant going to a concert with Melody, then so be it.

+ - + - +

it's time for One Night Only at last! I'm sorry it's a few days late. I said it'd be up in February but I forget February is 28 days not 31. Sorry! I hope you like this chapter and I am really excited for the rest of the story. It is all planned out so now it's just a matter of writing it. Enjoy!