Green Eyes

Chapter 3

The hotel alarm clock read 8:53. I checked myself in the mirror one more time, running my fingers through my teased hair and swiping one last coat of gloss over my lips. I thanked God silently in my head that I had had the foresight to bring some clubbing clothes for my (now delayed) trip to Japan. I wore a tight sequined miniskirt with a loose sheer black top, a lacy black bandeau underneath. My face and hair were all made up and I was wearing the only pair of heels I had in my suitcase: nude round-toe pumps. Not the sexiest thing (I wished I had brought along my glittery stilettos), but they would have to do. I suddenly found myself getting a little nervous as I stared at my reflection - what exactly did I think I was doing? I felt like I was on a ride with no idea where the driver was taking me. These boys, who seemed so normal and chummy, like my friends back home, were known all over the world. And by complete chance, I had been thrown together with them.

“Just be cool,” I muttered aloud to myself, fixing my over-sized crystal studs. If you act like a Roman, you’ll be a Roman. Or something like that. 

 I had Skyped my parents earlier to let them know of my situation. They had been worried, but neither of them had a stroke, which I counted as a positive. I was, after all, a legal adult now. They had added some more money to the credit card and talked to Paul a bit, and I think they felt a lot better after we hung up. 

And now it was almost time for my clubbing excursion. I had been clubbing back home a few times, but I was pretty sure LA, Los Angeles, wasn’t anything like LA, Louisiana. 

I grabbed my cell, stuffed it and a few dollars into my bra (no purse), and left my room, breathing deeply to help me regain my confidence. Stepping into the elevator, I punched the L button - I was on the third floor while most of the 1D crew were on the fifth. One of the assistants, a cool young chick named Ana, had the room next door to mine. Paul claimed it was a simple “coincidence,” but I had a strong suspicion that she was my assigned chaperone. Probably didn’t want me getting in trouble with the boys. 

The elevator swooshed downwards with stomach-dropping speed, and the doors slid open to reveal the expansive lobby of the hotel. It was a pretty classy place (well, what else did I expect?). There was a waterfall trickling through some elegantly draped foliage nearby, and a high-scale Italian bistro in the corner was filling up with the late-dinner diners. I wandered nervously through the lobby, but I didn’t see the five (or four, I guess, since Liam was a no-show) boys anywhere. A disappointed humiliation began creeping up from the pits of my stomach - the familiar feeling of being stood up. It reminded me painfully of an incident in first grade, when my mom forgot to pick me up and I had waited in front of the school for hours, all by myself. 

Come on, Lana, they were perfectly nice earlier, I chided myself silently. Give them a chance. Sighing, I settled myself onto a bench near the front doors, pulling out my cell in an effort to avoid the haughty glare of the concierge. I had two new notifications - one from my best friend Gia, who wished me a safe trip to Japan (as if), and one voicemail from my mom. I suddenly remembered Josh - I had programmed his number into my contacts earlier in the evening. I debated with myself for a second - was it too quick to send him a message? Did the three-day rule apply to texting? It would be rude if I didn’t, right? After all, he had bailed my ass out of spending the night in LAX. I typed out a quick message, making sure to throw in a wink at the end. Hey, could you blame me? The boy was cute. My phone dinged just a few seconds after I pressed send, indicating a reply message, but before I could open it, I heard a deep voice calling, “Lana!” 

I looked up - four boys were striding towards me, so perfectly in stride it looked like they had rehearsed it. Harry, who was waving wildly at me, and Zayn were both wearing sunglasses, even though it was way past dark outside. Louis had the hood of his sweatshirt up and Niall had a baseball cap jammed over his trademark bleach-blonde hair. I realized that they were trying to hide their identities - probably an effort to deter the paps.