Hazel’s P.O.V.
I stare down at the crowded mall below, searching for any signs of my target. My eyes wandered to each person below me for only second. I needed to find him, soon. It was already my third day in England and I haven’t even seen a glance at this boy. I looked down on my screen saver, my target. He had curly brown hair that was styled “perfectly” as most girls would say. He had bright green eyes that you didn’t normally see with brown hair. He was tall, about 6’1 and was quite muscular.
I glanced up from my screen and saw a flash of dyed, blonde hair. I smile to myself. If I recall, one of my targets friends have dyed blonde hair. Perfect. I pick up my hot tea from StarBuck’s and head down the escalator, never taking my eyes off of the blonde head. I follow him down the halls, and into a less crowded hallway. There were five others with the blond. Four out of the five of them were guys.
One guy had black hair styled into a quiff, two of them had brown hair, though one had a buzz cut and the other had longer hair. The last person made my eyes light up. He had the curly brown hair I was looking for. This was going to be too easy. I quickly sped ahead of them and stopped at a jewelry stand.
“…and suddenly a mob of fans were chasing me. Like honestly, they appeared out of nowhere,” the guy with the longer brown hair over exaggerated. Again, too easy.
I turned around with perfect timing, hitting curly. Sadly for him I still had my very, hot tea. He leaped back in pain.
“Ow, ow, ow, what the…,” he cried in agony.
“ Je suis desole monsieur, etes-vous ok,” I say in French. English is my first language, but after years of training in the government, I could fluently speak twelve.
“Um, sorry, but what?” curly asked.
I fake gasp, “Oh mon Deiu, vos Harry Styles.” A look of panic crosses his face, rather than pain from the tea.
“Shhhhhhhh,” he hissed, “anyone speak French,” he looked at his friends as I jumped up and down fan girling. I turn and look at his friends, my fake smile instantly fading.
Mya Johnson stands in front of me. She looks exactly the same as last time I saw her. Her black hair is curled in perfect ringlets. Her greeny-blue eyes still seem enlarged due to her thick black glasses. Her and I were in the same training class, at the top to be exact. We were the best of friends, well till she decided to abandon me on one of our missions.
“Ummm… backstage, backstage if you, shhhhhh,” Harry begs me. I turn to him smiling brightly. He digs through his wallet and passes me several tickets. One for his concert and one for backstage. I smile as wide as I can, trying to look like I was about to explode.
“Merci, Harry,” I say before turning around. As soon as I’m out of site I frown. Mya was the only worthy opponent there was at the school. Only she could beat me in hand to hand combat, shooting and learning a new language. We were equally matched, but there was one thing she couldn’t beat me at, that was stealth.
Even so, my mission just got ten time harder.
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Hello yall, I’m Icestarwarrior and most defiantly not country.
Right now, I’m starting this book. Next chapter will be the wonderful 1Dlover514.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, 1Dlover514 and myself will be writing this book together. I will do a chapter, she will do a chapter. P.S. I’m not the bestest grammar.
Anyways…
Thanks for reading.
Icestarwarrior-OUT!!!
