The Beard // l.t.

chapter four ≫

     "Hey, aren't you Louis Tomlinson's new beard?" 

I froze, not bothering to look behind me and see who spoke the sentence. My eyes widened and I opened my mouth to whisper a curse word out. I held my coffee tightly by the handle—completely ignoring the heat of the drink, but stopped as soon as I saw veins etched into my fist, looking like they were about to pop out. 

No one was supposed to know that I was a beard; it would expose Modest! of their secrets and other things that they have been hiding from the media. When I signed the contract, there was nobody else in the room except for myself and two other people working for Modest! who were strictly forced to not tell a soul about anything that happens in the room of the endorsing. I doubt that Mark and Jamie had told anyone about me being the new beard except for the staff who work there, and One Direction themselves. Of course the band had to know about me; I shouldn't be kept as a secret to them. So my question was, how did she know I was a beard? 

None of the boys have made an announcement about me dating Louis yet and I haven't even done anything to display that I even was a beard; so the question was, how did the lady behind me know so much? 

"Isabella Tanner; that's your name right?" I got more bemused when she mentioned my first and last name. How did she know so much?

I heard a shuffle of feet beside me and then suddenly, a young woman—I'm sure I've seen before—stood before me smiling and waving like she knew me. I felt so disoriented; what was happening? I didn't know this girl—only recognized her from somewhere—and she was talking to me. Was I being set up or something? Was this a prank? 

The stranger had dark, wavy brown hair that flowed past her shoulder. A military green coloured vest hugged her torso like it was fitted on tightly. Black leggings were worn on her legs, and her feet were placed in a pair of grey vans. The girl's smile was dazzling; her teeth were perfectly straight and white, with absolutely no hint of a yellow or brown stain on the bridgework—something I've longed for in my facial features.  Her eyes were not hidden by a pair of sunglasses—the soft brown oculi of hers scrutinizing my face. 

As a swarm of questions circled in my mind, I decided to finally reply to the girl who has been asking two questions addressing me; I felt kind of bad for not answering back.

"Yeah, that's me." I said, followed by the corners of my lips curving upwards and a flash of my teeth—which were obviously not as impeccable as hers. I kept thinking about where I have seen her before. 

A flash of a memory suddenly popped in my head. Apparently, I've seen her with a boy before—who's face and body was blurred in my head. They were boyfriend and girlfriend in the memory? I don't know, but it was something along the lines of that. 

The girl—who's name I still don't know—invited herself to sit across from me and I examined her face more—to try and look back at the remembrance—while she was adjusting her position. I probably looked creepy, judging by the confused and frightened look on her face.  She awkwardly sipped her Starbucks latte while waiting for me politely to finish my uncanny act. 

I didn't cease my staring just yet. I was fully determined to figure out where I've seen her before, who she was, and what she does. Although it may seem stalker-ish if you think about it, it was what I needed to do for me to uncover her identity.  

So I continued on glaring at the unknown woman until she spoke up, clearing away all my thoughts and possiblities of finding out who she was. She was obviously going to introduce herself. I mean, who walks up to a girl—who is just casually drinking coffee in a booth at Starbucks—and asks her if she is Louis Tomlinson's beard without even announcing who she was. Like, no one does that.