Chapter 9 Naomi POV
Yeah, so, um, I was standing in front of all five sex gods from One Direction. I can’t quite remember what was going through my head at the time, but I think it might’ve been something like “O
H HOLY SHIT ITS THE MOTHER FUCKING BOY BAND OF MY DREAMS AND THEY ARE ALL SITTING IN FRONT OF ME OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.” Yeah, I think it was something along those lines.
“Hello! I’m Harry,” Harry’s deep, husky voice said as he stood up to give me a half handshake, half hug. I stood straight as a board, and pinched my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. That’s when I suddenly realized; he was “Chaz”, the one I’d yelled at on the phone. I must’ve misheard ‘Haz’ for ‘Chaz’. A million questions were running through my head, such as, how the fuck did Spencer meet them? And, um, how did she manage to accidentally leave out the little fact that the “friends” she wanted me to meet were ONE FREAKING DIRECTION? But at the time, I just stayed silent as each of them introduced themselves to me, even though I already knew all their names. Duh.
Spencer nudged me, bringing me back to reality. “Oh, um, hi, I’m uh...” I fumbled with my words. I cleared my throat weakly. “Naomi.” I said awkwardly. “Nice,” I thought to myself. “You just totally ruined the first impression,” I had dreamed of the moment I would meet One Direction ever since I was 13, and it never involved me totally fucking it up...usually it ended with one of them and me making out, but whatever.
“Do you want to sit down, Naomi? I’m sure you’re starving, and I think there’s some leftover sandwiches, if Niall didn’t eat them all,” Liam said, trying to relieve the tension, patting a spot on the blanket next to him.
I cautiously walked over, and sat down next to him, trying not to sit too close; I didn’t want to seem like one of those crazy fans I’d seen in videos. Niall handed me a sandwich, “If you can’t finish it, I will,” he laughed in his adorable Irish accent. Did that really just happen? Did Niall Horan just hand me a sandwich and offer to eat my leftovers? This was too much for me to handle.
Spencer coughed. “So, um, Naomi...” she said, awkwardly trying to start a conversation. “How’ve you been?”
I shot her a look that said I’m-so-going-to-kill-you-later, but replied sweetly, “Great thanks,” God this was just so awkward. Damn it, if Spencer had told me I was going to be meeting One Direction, I would’ve totally come prepared. For one thing, I wouldn’t be wearing leggings and a t-shirt, no makeup and my hair in a ponytail. And I would’ve been able to rehearse some lines or something.
“How was your flight?” Zayn asked, picking at the grass. How much about me did Spencer tell them? I was so lost. She was going to get it later.
I smiled. “It was nice, I guess. There was a really long layover in New York, but other than that it was pretty good,” I made a disgusted face, remembering the nasty old guy I had to sit next to. “Except there was this one old pervert I had to sit next to...he kept hitting on me,”
Spencer and the boys began cracking up, and finally Louis stopped laughing long enough to tell me about a dare Spencer had to do, that involved her giving her number to an old guy. I laughed along with them, because that’s something I could totally picture Spencer doing. She blushed, brushing her chestnut hair out of her eyes, “If I get scary calls at 3 in the morning;, I blame you Harry Styles!” she cried, pointing to Harry.
Harry stared back at her, astonished. “You gave him your real number?!” he said, trying not to grin.
She shot him an icy look, “Fuck you Styles.”
“Well,” I thought to myself, “Never in a million years did I think I would hear Spencer say fuck you to Harry Styles,” I guess they were pretty good friends.
