Ninas London (One Direction fanfic)

Chapter 21

Never underestimate the power of the paparazzi.

My Tumblr timeline is filled with pictures of me from yesterday that I didn't even know were taken. Like the one of me with my sunglasses on, looking down and speed walking next to Caitlin while getting off the Eye. Or the one of me hiding behind Zayn as we approached the hectic crowd after lunch. But the most surprising one by far is the one of me leaning against the tree at the campfire, talking to Harry. My hair is blocking my tear-soaked face (praise the lord) but Harry's look of interest and concern is still clearly noticeable.

Then there's another picture of us hugging afterward, which is the worst, because you can just see one of my eyes over his shoulder. It's not necessarily ugly of me, but there's an unmistakeable glistening in my eye that totally gives away the fact that I was crying. It hurts my stomach just to think of all the rumors people are probably making up about my break down.

"She was probably so emotional about meeting him that he had to calm her down," a comment reads. My insides churn and I feel ill all of a sudden. I still don't know why people are so interested in me. I just hung out with One Direction yesterday, it's not like I married them.

"HAHAHA!" Caitlin bursts out, pointing to a picture that some girl had pulled from the 502.4 website. It's the one of Louis stuffing the hot dog into his mouth, and the post has already reached over forty thousand notes.

I try to laugh, but I can't stop reading the comments on pictures of me. When we scroll down to the photo of my collapsing pyramid, I can't help but read one of them: "Haha she's clinging onto them like a baby monkey. Probably ripped their shirts clean off. Yeah, that was the plan, I bet." The comment makes me want to parachute off a tall building. Without the parachute.

"This is too funny," Caitlin says, pointing to a photo of me eyeing the crowd from our capsule like they're a pack of wild hyenas.

"Oh God," I moan, feeling my vanilla latte curdle in my stomach. After I see a reblog of Harry's Instagram pic for the billionth time I reach out and close the laptop. Caitlin turns to face me. "Dude."

"We have to go," I explain simply before standing up and grabbing my bag. It's still only 11:37, but I can't look at any more pictures or comments about me. Caitlin gives me a funny look, but she isn't the one everyone's gossiping about. It's true what the celebrities say; you never understand what it's like behind the cameras until you're the paparazzi's next victim.

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"I'll get it," Caitlin says before I can take out my wallet. She reaches over me and pays the cab driver, and then we both slide out the back seat. We've been delivered straight to the entrance of Cafe Oto, which is located on a narrow street in east London. Harry was right; it is off the beaten path, and the few people that are around are either middle aged or too artsy-looking to be interested in a pop boy band. Perfect for One Direction to have a quiet, peaceful lunch.

"Let's go," Caitlin says, leading me up to the doors of the cafe. Outside is a small round table with chairs and a folded chalk sign listing dates and bands I've never heard of before. We step through the dark green doors and enter the most unique restaurant I've ever seen in my life. The inside is a large room with white walls and cement floors, which instantly gives off an edgy vibe. Vintage framed photos dot the walls and wooden tables and chairs fill the back of the room, seating people who are reading or working on their laptops. In the corner is a piano, a mic stand, and a stool, which seats an older man strumming his guitar to some calm new age song.

"This place is awesome," I say, taking in the plants and modern paintings that decorate the simple room. Directly to our right is the counter, and the scent of freshly ground coffee beans overtakes my senses.