Painted Faces, Fill the Places. xx (One Direction Love Story)

Painted Faces, Fill the Places. xx (2)

I was seriously debating on whether I should just calmly back out of the office or maybe just refuse.

Well no, I couldn’t turn down the tour! I needed my money. Shit.

One Direction, huh? I really have no idea what I’m going to do with this one. My eyes scanned over each boy as discreetly as possible as Mike started talking in the extravagantly useless way that he does.

Honestly. Who really needs to use their arms THAT much while they speak?!

All I knew about the boys was the annoying amount of squealing girls that followed behind them. Annoying. . . sounds harsh. . . alright, ahm, dedicated? Yes! Dedicated amount of squealing girls.

Moving on. I had seen like a brief bio in one of the endless piles of magazines that Kat leaves around while she does my hair. IPhones were a pretty solid choice of entertainment but then again I just never was the magazine-reading type. . . I wonder what half of they actually do print about me.

Kat probably would’ve reported it by now I it was anything too stupid. . . . .

Moving on! I do get way too distracted for my own good. One of these days my mouth is gonna give me away. . . actually that wouldn’t be the first time. Sigh.

Onto the boys:

Harry Styles. Curly-haired, charmer of sorts. He seemed completely engrossed into whatever Mike had been talking about, the beanie slouching off of his head really was a good look. I never did take to beanies but eh? I guess you’ve gotta have the look for it?

Niall Horan. Blonde-haired. Blue eyes. Feels like I’ve just described the typical dream guy of most Californians? Maybe not.  I had to admit those eyes were amazing, you sort of just got lost in them you know? He had been biting his nails lightly before I knew it, his eyes were meeting mine. (I literally hadn’t realized how hard I was staring. YET AGAIN)

I bit my lip turning away, before shooting him another quick glance. I saw him holding back a right laugh. Oh God, how much of a creeper had I looked like?

The way I was acting you’d think I’m some obsessive creeper that had finally got to meet them. Borderline-creeper? Fine, I’ll accept that, I had crossed the line one, too many times when Johnny Depp came into play. But I definitely couldn’t have these boys thinking that. Anyone for that matter. Especially Mike.

I swear that man was testing me more and more as days went by, but I wouldn’t let him see it. With every new photo shoot, or interview that he booked, I took it in stride.

The worse thing possible that you could do is let them see you sweat. Remember that.

I had worked way too hard to come off as another air-head pop star that got distracted by pretty faces.

Moving on.

I let out a soft sigh, ignoring the look that Mike had sent me as I moved near one of the couches, plopping down next to Louis, the odd one from earlier. Smart guy, that one. The rest of them looked over at us dumbfounded as we had been the only ones sitting calmly in what seemed to be an important meeting.

Rest assured I had been listening. Okay half-assed, but it was something, besides I was already full out rehearsed for my “Hollow” tour. I came up with the name for that. Like it?

It just stuck with me.

Moving on.

Louis Tomlinson. The oldest one. Bit of a Peter-Pan haircut? His hair had been flat and besides the tattoos it was his sock-less feet tucked into a pair of sneakers that struck me most. He looked over at me pulling a face. A boy shouldn’t look that attractive with his nose flared out that way. . .And his mouth, I’m not really sure how he does it.