We're just friends. Nothing More.

Chapter 5: The Confession Circle

This had been the best night of my entire life.

After Louis gave up trying to find a worthwhile show ("There's just no quality entertainment these days!" he had sighed exasperatedly after tossing the remote), we had decided to watch a horror film.

When I say "we" I mean mostly Gaby and Niall. I was strictly against horror films; I couldn't stand watching them. Shay was okay with them as long as they weren't too grotesque, which of course this one was. Even if it wasn't quite scary, it was extremely grotesque.

That is exactly why we were both shaking and holding each other under a blanket through the whole thing, the boys next to us patting our heads in consolation every once in a while.

It wasn't so bad actually because we could barely tell what was going on in the movie under our blanket. We would whisper random things to each other while munching on the popcorn to distract ourselves from whatever bloody torture scene was in front us. Sometimes we'd get a loud shush from the Louis, the Sassy King, when we got too excited discussing fried chicken.

Eventually the others got tired of the bad horror film too. Another pillow fight broke out between Harry and Louis, which had somehow moved into one of the bedrooms, which may have been where we all ended up joining.

Some brave soldiers acted as "Air-Force", combating midair as they flew from bed to bed while the rest of the Army tussled it out on the hotel floor/lower battleground.

This had gone on for a full 10 minutes until we were finally all catching our breaths, squeezed together sideways on the two beds.

By the time our breaths were all caught up and we were done with the giggling fit, we were starving again. I realized that these boys probably hadn't eaten a home-cooked meal in a while, so I took it upon myself to make tacos. I'm a pretty good cook if I do say so myself; I'd help my parents cook at home all the time.

Mark (the male 1D animated fanfic writer) was right when he said that tacos were Harry's favorite food. He even helped me season the taco meat, and I had to admit, he was a pretty good cook too. Of course, he was too lazy to cook for the boys all by himself which is why they've been living off fast food and Chinese their whole time here. Not sure that that's exactly great for their voices, but hey, what do I know?

Everyone complimented us on our delicious tacos as we all settled around the huge dining table. What started off as a huge conversation had branched off into 3. Liam and I were talking about college and NYC until Niall somehow joined and turned the conversation around to food, being the Special Snowflake he is. Harry, Shay, and Louis were joking around and discussing acting and the tour. Zayn and Gaby seemed to be having a serious conversation until Gaby actually snorted at a joke or something Zayn said.

Wow, Zayn's the first guy that's been able to get her to really laugh. He's definitely a keeper.  Now if only Gaby would just accept it and let him...

At 11, we had to force ourselves to leave because of the Julliard tour tomorrow. We had spent a good few hours with the boys today.

It was weird; even though they were famous pop stars, they were so easy and so fun to be around; it's like we've been close friends since middle school. We had talked about everything from the Kardashians ("Kim's got quite nice hips!" Harry had said much to Shay's annoyance) to the Internet ("Look they've actually photo-shopped us all onto a whale's butt!") to cake ("I don't care what you say, Ice Cream Cake is the best kind of cake, case closed, done deal," obviously Niall).

Before we'd left, they invited us back again for tomorrow after the college tour .

They'd also for some reason asked for our twitters. I barely updated mine, and when I did, it was always about irrelevant things that no one ever cared about. I only had like 15 followers, and most of them were people from my academic clubs. I was never re-tweeted, and I only got pity favorites from the girls, the true friends they are.