The Keepers (Niall Horan FanFic)

Chapter 5-Remember What You're Here For

"MISS ROBB, OVER HERE!" "TAYLOR, TAYLOR! OVER HERE!" "SELENA, TURN LEFT, LEFT! THAT'S IT!"

I step out of the sleek black limo in my dress that's so sexy I feel my cheeks turn the exact shade of red the dress is. Though I mentally tried to brace myself beforehand for the blinding flash of the cameras that want you to turn to every angle all at once, I still found myself squinting into the sea of blinding white light as I tried desperatley to get my bearings. The stranger who's posing as my famous pass into the place took my arm and placed it into the crook of his elbow; smiling, together we started our walk on the orange carpet, stopping every 3 seconds to turn and smile into the blinding flashes of white that stand out like fireworks against the darkening sky.

Suddenly I feel my escort's breath on my neck. "Smile. Keep your mouth shut and look straight into the cameras, they know who I am. Avoid all conversation with anyone but the target and if asked any direct questions, answer with a yes or no, nothing else." I shiver as my escort's mouth brushes against my ear. He looks back up at the cameras and smiles, making it look like what he just said was merely a whispered word of good fortune or a crack at pre-show humor. Knowing it was neither, I lift up my head and do the same.

There's cameras everywhere. To my left, my right, in front of and behind me, covering every single angle, the quick, blinding flashes missing nothing, instantly making me feel vulnerable and ungaurded, even though I'm the predator.

Relax, I think. No one's here to hunt you. No one  even knows who you are, much less what you do. Remember what you're here for.

Having a silent conversation with myself makes me snap out of the dream-like trance I was in and brings me back to reality. Instantly my eyes focus as I snap them in every direction, taking in my surroundings and the people who are apart of it. Selena Gomez, talking with a blonde reporter. Judging by the way Selena's eyes are moving about the crowd as she answers questions about her dress, it's obvious her thoughts are elsewhere. Waiting for her superstart boyfriend, I suppose. I swivel my gaze to the right, catching a glimpse of Katy Perry and her multi-colored hair that's pulled back in a pin-straight ponytail. Behind her, a tall blonde walking away in a white dress, hand on hip. Her hair is straight and pulled back into a low bun. I blink. Taylor Swift.

We move slowly but steadily down the winding orange carpet, smiling the whole time. Reaching the stairs, we wave and then make our way up them; my escort ever so politely holding my dress train as we do, then letting it fall as we reach the top. I could feel my eyes widen slighty but just as quickly regained my composure; I have to make it look like I'm one of them.

At the top of the stairs is a place they obviously don't televise for the real show, probably because no one with a camera would ever be able to get clearance to a place like this. All the celebrities from A to Z are up here, sipping on exotic-colored drinks and chatting with one another like old friends. The tables set up from one end of flat to the other are filled with food and drinks and appetizers and desserts I've never seen before, from dainty-looking cakes to a 6-foot tall fondue fountain. Will Smith is with his son, experimenting what a pale-yellow cookie and chocolate taste like combined, and to my left I see that Selena has found her superstar boyfriend; Justin's whispering something in her ear that's obviously humorous, because she's glancing down and smiling like a schoolgirl. Both Taylor Lautner and Taylor Swift are chatting near a platter of flower-shaped cakes, Taylor Swift smiling and never taking her eyes off of Taylor's. She brushes his suit with her dainty hand and picks up a flower cake with another, still staring at him like he's the most important thing in her universe. Behind them, I catch a glimpse of dark skin, silver sequins and slender arms. A quick glance of her face confirms it; Michelle Obama.

Great, I think. Even the first lady is here to watch me seduce one of the most famous teens on the planet.

I decide to head over to the tables and get something to drink so I can at least occupy my hands. My escort is already gone, mingling with some young blonde in a tight black dress with dark makeup up to her eyebrows. I decide to keep tabs on him even though I'm sure he won't be bothering me any time soon, judging by the drink in his hand.

Turning my back towards the A-list celebrities, I reach for a pinkish-purpley looking drink with delicate pink sugar iced around the edge of the glass cup. Though my head is turned down to sip my drink, my eyes are everywhere, taking in everyone. Faces flash before my eyes in nanoseconds, but I don't see the one that should stand out among the rest, the face of the target. My eyes wander toward the top of the staircase and stop. If he's not here yet, he's bound to be, I think. I steal a glance at my iPone in my clutch. 7:45. Ten minutes and I'll have to start making my way down to the first level so I can locate my seat.

I'm just lifting the little glass cup up to my lips for a second sip when I hear them. Five voices, all different, all overlapping one another as they try to get their opinions in.

"Oi, lads, have you ever seen anything like this before? This is amazing!" "Ya, ya, look at all those fancy came-" "Must be five hundred dollars for that suit at least, look at the custom design-" "I wonder if there's fancy food, like crepes, maybe they have a french coo-" "EY, lads, one last picture for the lady! Smile now!"

I set the glass slowly down on the table, examining my reflection, looking into my eyes. I take a deep breath and take five seconds to make sure I'm in complete, total control.

You can do this. You will do this. One million dollars is waiting to be all yours, Aster. All you have to do is expose the boy.

I turn around, shifting my gaze to the top of the stairs, examining the five bodies of five boys dressed in black suits. All very handsome, all taking in the scene just as I would have had I not had to convince people of something that I'm not.

I work my gaze up the body of the boy who's on the very end, noticing his callused fingers and awed expression that's left his mouth taking the shape of a tiny O.

As my eyes finally work their way up the rest of his face, my brain can only process one thought:

That I'm looking straight into the eyes of Niall Horan.