One Directon Preferences

Meeting For The First Time At The Beach

Niall: Sunglasses on, sun beaming down and kissing your skin to get a golden glow (or unfortunate burn), your eyes shut tight as you sleep on your beach towel. Paradise. However, the paradise was soon ended with a heavy weight on your stomach. "Oh!" a thick Irish accent exclaims, quickly jumping up. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He smiles apologetically, waving a frisbee in one hand. "My friend Harry," he nods across the way. "Can't throw for shit." "Hey! I heard that!" you hear his friend call back. "I usually take a girl on a date before I end up on top of her," he jokes cheekily, brushing the sand he'd tracked onto your skin. "It's okay," you laugh, letting him dust off the sand. "Although I always pictured Niall Horan on top of me in a different situation," you add smoothly, just as cheeky and curt. A smile dances over his lips before he holds out his hand and pulls you up. "So, what do you say I take you to dinner to make up for this fiasco?" 

Harry: "Not a beach person either, are you?" a voice calls out, causing you to lose your spot in your book. "Nope," you look up, spotting the source of a voice. Ray-bans, fedora with curls peeping out, golden skin. If you didn't know any better you'd thing it was..."Harry Styles? Doesn't like the beach?" you beam, sliding your sunglasses off your eyes and tucking your book in your bag. "M'here with friends," he shakes his head, shrugging and putting down his phone. "Don't like having sand in places sand shouldn't be." You laugh, smiling as he scoots his towel closer to yours. "Neither do I, I'm also not big on the whole ocean and jellyfish ordeal," you admit, nodding towards your friends jumping in the ocean. "I prefer to read here and relax." He smiles, his dimples making another appearance. "Want to head to that shack there? They sell food and drinks, lounging on the beach always makes me want some food," he offers, standing up and offering you his hand. 

Louis: "You look like you could use a towel," a voice calls out, watching your dripping wet, shivering self climb away from the water towards your beach bag. "You got one?" you call back, wondering where this guy was from. His accent wasn't from around here, it sounded British. "Dunno, come find out!" he calls, waving you over with a smirk. "You better have one or I'll kick you in the nuts for teasing me with the alluring thought of a warm towel," you call back laughing, stepping to his towel. "Feisty," he pulls a towel from his bag, wrapping it around your shoulders and giving you a hug in the process. "The towel wasn't warm as you requested," he explains, holding you tighter. "So here's some body heat, please don't kick me in the jewels." You laugh, curling up in the towel and plopping down beside him. "I'm Louis," he adds, digging a bag of crisps from his bag. "And my plan worked, we're basically on a date now. Crisp?" 

Liam: "Surfer?" you ask, watching a rather muscular boy jog past you in a tight wetsuit (hello!) with a surfboard in tow. "What gave it away?" he laughs, turning to you and waving the board. "The suit, the surfboard or the tan?" You laugh, offering a shrug as you realize the surfer is in fact Real_Liam_Payne. "I think your dashingly good looks gave it away," you joke, although seriously admiring him in that suit. "Ah, cheeky," he replies shyly, reaching out his hand and pulling you out of your chair. "Since you're rather daring when you talk to surfers like me," he smirks, nodding to the waves. "Won't you let me teach you how to surf?" 

Zayn: "I've been waiting for you to get in the ocean and finally take off that shirt," you call out, boldly addressing the rather good-looking boy a few feet away who'd been lounging on a towel with a sketchbook for the past hour. He looks up with a smile and shrugs, motioning you over. "I don't go well with water," he laughs, sliding his sunglasses off and nodding to his drawings. "Unless it's watercolor paints.". You sit cross-legged on the edge of the towel and admire his cartoonish drawing of an ice cream stand a few feet away. "That's really awesome," you admit, giving a genuine smile. "Can I draw you?" he asks, turning to a new page. "Hm," you pretend to debate this. "Only if you take that shirt off, I've been dying to see the rest of those tattoos."