Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Twenty

The first thing I saw when I woke up that morning was an Instagram notification. Ben had tagged me in a post, and I was nearly scared to open it following the recent events of my birthday and the debacle surrounding worst face he'd ever pulled. It was legitimately becoming a meme and, apparently, he wasn't too impressed about it. 

Essa Taylor, my friend, he'd written, this is war. Directly above sat the worst photo of myself that I'd ever seen in my life and, trust me, there had been a few to laugh at. 

I was mortified. 

I fully considered not even getting dressed and storming down the hall to the boys' hotel room, but didn't think Dani (or any other miscellaneous guests) would appreciate me storming through the building in a t-shirt and my underwear. Therefore, I dragged myself over to my suitcase and dug out a pair of blue skinny jeans.

War, indeed, Ben Barlow. War, indeed.

I burst out of my room, completely ignoring a half asleep Cara asking me where the fuck I was going, and made my way down the hall. A do not disturb sign hung on the boys' door, but I wasn't particularly concerned about the beauty rest that they may or may not have needed; a sharp knock or two should have scared them awake.

I heard a few shuffles from the room, before a few murmurs. "It's Essa," Dani whisper yelled, loudly enough for me to hear, before he earned himself a chorus of 'shush'es. "It's Essa," he said, more quietly this time, but still audible through the door. In that moment, I loved Dani more than I ever had; he was just so pure. 

After a bit more scuffling and a couple of suspicious yelps, the door jerked open with the chain still attached, two little faces peeking through the gap. "Neck Deep residence," Fil said, his face utterly serious while Sam tried to hold back a giggle. 

"I'm here for Ben?"

"I'm afraid we can't allow that to happen," Sam said, forcing down a laugh. The struggle was literally so visible on his face it pained me. "For his safety and your own."

"I'm his girlfriend, not an axe murderer," I told them, tempted to laugh. What had I done with my life before I had these boys? I'd followed them around with a camera and they'd said hi every once in a while. Never thought I'd be thankful for a concussion and a forced leave of absence from work. 

"Exactly! That's so much worse than a murderer," Fil cried.

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen," I said, even though that was a terrible thing to ever have asked of Fil; I'd asked him to compromise his personality, and that just wasn't viable at all. "Can I just talk to him? No violence. Promise." Fil looked up at Sam, while Sam looked down at Fil, questioning looks on their faces. 

"We'll think about it," Sam told me, while both boys pulled their faces from the door and slammed it with a vengeance. I felt like I'd been inserted into a really modernised, less glamorous version of Wizard of Oz. 

Five minutes later, Fil slipped himself fully through the door. "We're allowing you to talk to Ben. You have seven minutes exactly and it will be in a public place." His straight face was beginning to crack, now, but he was doing a great job of staying in character. I wished I'd brought my camera; this would have been a brilliant story to tell with photos. "Meet us in the lobby in ten minutes. You have to wear shoes." He then leaned closer to my face, pressing his cheek up against mine. "I'm on your side. I'll text you some ammunition." My face broke out into a grin as my newfound best friend and war ally kissed my cheek and disappeared back into the fortress that was room 357E. 

Cara and Zach, my soldiers (of course), had both been dragged out of bed and briefed on the mission: intimidate Ben into backing down. They were my protection, mostly because I knew none of the boys would hurt them in any way; Zach was too much like Dani and Cara was a girl. So, they flanked me (in their pajamas) all the way to the hotel lobby. No one was looking at us funny yet. Yet.