My Life For Yours

Chapter 6.

The main reason that I like working at a coffee shop (other than flexible hours) is because I get to meet people. During my breaks, if I'm not reading, I make up conversations between the customers. Usually it's boring, but today was different. Two teenagers, probably seventeen, are sitting at the bar, close enough for me to eavesdrop. A chemistry textbook and worksheets are spread out between the two of them, covering most of the table.

They're not together: this is apparent even before they order their drinks. It's also obvious that the boy would like for them to be.

The girl pulls her hair up into a ponytail and takes her sweater off. She has very clear, almost translucent skin. The boy stares at her collarbones--in a sweet way. She asks him a question and he flusters, putting his head down and shuffling quickly through the papers. Then, when he's not looking, I see it. She stares at him the same way.

The audacious part of me that would never do this in a million years wants to say something. To catch the girl on her way to the backroom and whisper "He likes you too." But I don't.

A pang of something hits me in the chest. None of my high school boyfriends looked at me in any way resembling this. Even Peter, who I dated for less than a month before sliding back into the "best friend" title never looked at me this intently.

I'm jealous.

I imagine myself in her seat, and Harry in his. I wave the thought away. It really is dangerous to idolize people like this. My phone rings. A coworker takes my spot at the register and I go out back to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Aidan Graham?" The voice is distinctly feminine.

"Yes, who's this?"

"My name's Cheryl Haworth. I represent the band One Direction, and well, usually this would be done in person, but we have a proposition for you.

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Of course I said yes. Of course I said yes.

It's only on my way home--I had to take off early, the excitement was making me hiccup too hard to function--that a thread of panic sinks into my stomach.

What did I just agree to? I've never written anything resembling a book before in my life! Despite this, I know I can do this. This is the chance of a lifetime. Just thinking about all the offers I would have if this went well gave me a headache.

It's dinnertime. Mom and Britt are in the kitchen.

"Hi, sweetie. I haven't seen you since last night!" Mom tries to hug me, but I step back.

"Tell me exactly what happened at the concert last night." I'm trying to be stern, but I can't stop smiling.

"What do you mean?"

Britt talks and chews at the same time. "She's probably talking about Harry's breakdown,"

"No, I'm talk--what happened to Harry?" I sit down.

"He was, like, super drunk or something."

I look at mom. She nods. "Britt's right. I don't know what he's normally like, but he was acting really weird."

"He yelled at the guys for no reason, then started making out with this crazy chick who, was, like obviously crazy."

I try to seem nonchalant. "He just kissed someone?"

"No," Britt leans in conspiratorially. "They totally hooked up."

Mom goes "don't say that."