Green Eyes

Chapter 2

Josh led me quickly and confidently through the busy airport, half-dragging, half-pulling me as I tripped along behind him reluctantly. Stranger Danger had been drilled into my head one too many times as a child, and I was a little wary of just wandering off with some random guy. Even a cute random guy. 

A little ways off down the terminal, a set of stairs led up to a second floor with a row of orange doors: private lounges for VIP fliers and their crews. I had never been in one before. I felt a little out of place among the well-dressed people going in and out of the other lounges. I usually dressed comfortable to fly rather than fashionable, and today I had negotiated a sort of in-between: black sheer leggings underneath an oversized kelly green collarless blouse, with my coral-colored flats. I had a white watch on that kept reminding me of my limited time and carried my favorite black Longchamp tote. 

Josh finally came to a door and swung it open, pushing me ahead of him. 

Inside, the room was small but classy, with low-slung leather sofas set in front of a coffee table and a large flat-screen TV, which was muted and broadcasting what looked like the local news. There was a minibar in the corner, attended by a guy in an airport uniform. The room was crowded with people and luggage. I glanced around at the faces but didn’t recognize anybody famous; everybody had that weary, jetlagged look of someone who’s just gotten off a long flight. 

Completely contrastingly, Josh seemed full of energy. He beamed at me and swept his arm around like he was introducing the Eight Wonder of the World. His disappointment in my lack of reaction was obvious. 

I felt a little bad at his sad expression and offered, “So where are these famous boys you keep talking about?” 

Josh’s face lit back up again. 

“Blondie over there is Niall.” He pointed at the guy standing at the bar, who was having an animated conversation with the barkeeper, which I could hear even over the hubbub of the room. 

“C’mon!” he was saying, “I can drink anywhere else but America. Nobody will know! Just a beer, mate.” 

“That’s Liam and Louis,” Josh continued, gesturing toward two boys who were sitting on one of the couches, their bags at their feet. Liam was typing intently on his cellphone while Louis was collapsed on his shoulder, dozing off. 

“And that’s Zayn,” Josh finished, nodding at a boy in a hoodie with striking eyes. He was sitting across from Liam and Louis with Beats covering his ears and a magazine in his hand, nodding a little along to whatever music he was listening to. 

“That’s funny,” Josh mused, searching the room again. “I don’t see Harry.”

Just as Josh finished his sentence, a big guy wearing a polo and a pissed-off expression charged toward us, where we were still standing in the doorway. 

“Josh! We said no fans!” he growled. He didn’t even look at me, just glared at Josh. “Nobody knows the boys are here, we’ll have a massive mess if they figure out.” 

Josh looked a little uncertain and apologetic, and I suddenly found myself feeling bad. All he had been trying to do was help me out, after all, and now he was getting in trouble with whoever Mr. Hates Fans was. 

“Sorry,” I jumped in, “I’ll get out of here.” I turned around to go, but Josh interrupted. 

“Hey, Paul, come on. She’s not even a fan, she just missed her flight and I thought we could help to sort her out.” 

Paul’s face softened a little, and he sighed, rubbing his head. “Well, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude,” he apologized. “I never mind helping someone out. What’s your name?”