Growing up with parents who won the lottery had quite a few perks to it. One of them being you could do whatever you wanted, go wherever you wanted and be whoever you wanted. I took this to my advantage big time after graduation. Three amazing months well spent back packing through Italy, Bali, and Greece. I'd consider this 100% fully paid for trip to be the best graduation present anyone could ever get. After sleeping on beaches and going to festivals every night started getting old, I decided it was time to start being a grown up and start taking some responsibility. I got all my belongings together and booked a flight to London. I know, how cliché of me. After spending a week and a half in London's finest hotels, I found myself an apartment less than four blocks from the university I'd start attending in a month, and a full time job working at an art gallery, which kindly put up two of my own paintings on display.
Over the years finding love had been a struggle to say the least. Especially when every guy wanted you for your money and to be able to say they got with "THE Soph Benson." I finally got to the point where I was fine with the fact that I'd never be able to have a healthy relationship and be loved. That was one of the reasons I really had to get out of the United States. Apparently when your parents win the biggest lottery in the state ever, people start knowing who you are and wanting to be a part of your life. I didn't even remember what a real friend felt like, just the fake bitches I'd party with on the weekend who only used me to get attention. Being "THE Soph Benson" had its perks, but sometimes it just plain old sucked.
One day at work after I'd just gotten back from my lunch break I stopped into the oil paint section of the studio to admire my two paintings on the display when a man came and stood next to me. "Is this painting new? I haven't seen it before." He asked in his thing British accent. "It was put up just this week actually. Do you come here often?" He turned his head, not expecting to hear my American accent clearly. "Yes actually," he paused, eyeing me up and down. "I've been searching for the right paintings to put in my house for months and I think I may have finally found one." Did I just hear him correctly? Was this guy talking about MY painting? Sure I knew I was a skilled painter, they didn't just put anyone's paintings in a gallery, but I hadn't expected anyone to take interest in them so soon. "I was also admiring this painting, I think it's new as well." He put his hands behind his back and walked over to a second painting, MY second painting. The only two in the gallery that were mine and he admired them. You cod say I was a bit awestruck. "Do you work here?" His words cut through the fog in my head. "Yes, I do. Would you be interested in purchasing either of these paintings?" I tried to stay calm although a load of fireworks were going off inside of me. He looked back and forth at the paintings for another minutes, twitching his mouth back and forth. Finally he turned around to look at me, "I love them both too much to choose, I'll but both of them." I couldn't help it, my jaw ht the floor. "Seriously?" I couldn't even believe it. The man furrowed his eyes brows looking confused. "These are the only two paintings that have ever spoken to me out of the thousand times I've been here. I need to have them. Will that be a problem?" His voice got more confident as he spoke. All I could do was smile and say, "Come to the front desk and we'll ring them up." We both walked to the front of the gallery and I walked behind my desk grabbing my notebook. "Alright, I'm going to need a name, address, telephone number, and a date and time our movers can deliver these to your house." I looked up at him, still beaming at the fact that my paintings spoke to him. "You really need me to give you a name?" We both stared at each other completely confused. "It's part of the process, I have to get a name from all our buyers." I didn't think buying a painting was some secretive thing, but I guess I had a lot to learn. "No it's not that. I just thought you would know who I am?" His statement came out more like a question. Was I supposed to know him? Had we met before at one of my parents events or something? He was quite the catch, I doubt I'd forget a face like that if we met before. I stared at him for a moment trying to think of how he thinks I know him. I was stumped. "No I'm sorry sir I don't know who you are." He looked me in the eyes with what could only be described as complete and utter shock. "My names Liam. Liam Payne?" I furrowed my eyebrows and wrote his name down on the piece of paper. "I'm sorry, I've never heard of you. Now address, telephone number, and date and time please?" He sighed and gave me the information I needed. The movers would deliver the paintings to his flat tomorrow at 6. "That'll be $21,000, will that be debit or credit?" I asked, smiling at the thought of what my bank account would soon look like after this transaction was made. He slid his credit card over the counter and I have it a swipe. After handing him his receipt he began to leave, but stopped in his track and turned around. "You really don't know who I am?" He looked me over, just as confused as I was. "No sir I'm sorry I don't. Should I know who you are?" He let out a laugh and shook his head. "I'm Liam Payne? From One Direction?" Still completely clueless. "Is that some new movie coming out or something?" Clearly I'd missed a lot these past few months.