I am woken up this morning by the obnoxious blaring of my iPhone alarm, set at 6:30 A.M. so that I can hurry up and get ready for work. Of course, my "work" is making coffee at a Starbucks in Los Angeles; I suck at my job. Plus, I work four hours and then spend my lunch break at whatever course I'm scheduled to have that day. Today it's anatomy, because I decided to major in nursing.
Within a half-hour, I somehow manage to get up and shower. Pulling my still-damp hair into the messiest bun ever, I swish some light makeup on to cover the bags under my brown eyes and head out the door. When I walk in, Stephanie and Tyler are already working, and a cup of hot Joe is sitting there waiting for me. Thank God. Well, technically thank Steph for making it, but still.
Morning rush comes, and I barely have ten seconds between orders. I've been working here since the start of term in August, and I still haven't caught on to whatever flow Stephanie and Tyler are always talking about; I probably never will. I'm just not a fast-paced person, I guess.
By the time breakfast is over, we have about ten minutes of peace to collect ourselves for lunch rush. I listen as Tyler mops the floor while singing off-key and Stephanie blabbers on about her night out the night before. I guess Stephanie and Tyler would be considered my best friends, even though I don't know a thing about either of them. I don't have a lot of time for friends since I started college. It's a pathetic cliche, but it's definitely the truth...
In the middle of lunch rush, I think I'm going to die. Literally. It's too hot in here, my temples are pounding, my hair has committed mutiny and breached the ponytail holder. I look like a mess, and I know my face is a blotchy red disaster. I hope that no one I know walks in before my shift is over in twenty minutes. Suddenly, the worst thing that could happen does. While I look like this, my celebrity crushes walk in. One Direction are within fifty feet of me, and I look like hell. Go figure. Another go figure, I'm the only person available to wait on them. Attempting to smooth my hair and cool my face, I walk over to them.
"Hi, I'm Celia. Can I, uh, take your orders?" I ask, attempting not to sound like the nineteen year old fangirl I really am.
They look at me, smiling. Then, Liam speaks up.
"Yeah, just 4 black coffees and a strawberry smoothie for Niall." He says, his accent making me blush. I nod, and walk over to the counter. My hands are shaking as I pour the coffees and start the blender. Putting it all on a tray, I walk back over to them and beg my inner klutz not to show her dirty little face. Of course, she does. I trip, full out trip, and a rain of hot coffee showers the boys.
"Bloody hell!" They chorus together, and I feel tears begin to sting my eyes.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" I squeal, terrified. They shake their heads, accepting my apology, and stand to leave. They hand me twenty dollars, and a piece of paper. Feeling like a complete idiot, I take the money to the register and look at the paper.
'I think you're rather lovely, if you don't mind my saying. Give me a call sometime? -Niall' and there, in black ballpoint pen, is Niall Horan's number. I think I might die.
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On the Verge; A One Direction Fanfiction.
Novela JuvenilCelia Fredericks was nothing but a wannabe singer and an invisible coffee barista, until she met Niall Horan. He makes her feel so special and good about herself, but do all good things come to an end?
