“You’re a bit young to be in charge of us, aren’t you?” Harry nagged Olivia as they stood in the cramped elevator filled with six people and as many bags as they could carry. The rest were being sent up later.

Olivia pressed the button for the penthouse.

‘Only the best for England’s best’ Harry had quoted obnoxiously.

“How old are you?” Harry asked.

“I’m sixty.” Olivia muttered. The boys snickered as Harry smirked again.

“You’re sassy.” He told her, “I like it.”

Olivia crossed her arms, keeping her stiff posture as she started feeling nauseas, knowing she was in a confined space so far up. She tried some Lamaze breathing but it only made her companions worried.

“Are you okay?” Liam questioned, trying to place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly but was blocked by his bag.

“I’m fine.” Olivia answered weakly. “I don’t like elevators. Or heights.”

“Or answering my questions.” Harry muttered smartly.

“Oh, leave her alone, Harry.” Louis scolded lightly. “You always do this.”

Olivia noticed the tension rising like the elevator. Harry folded his arms across his chest and didn’t say another word for the rest of the trip.

The second the elevator opened, they made sure Olivia was the first one out. She thanked them quietly, feeling embarrassed and queasy.

The suite was spacious and gorgeous. The walls were a calm tan and it smelt faintly of cinnamon, as if someone had been burning a candle before they had arrived.

“Mmm.” Harry sniffed, “Cinnamon. Smells like sex.”

His friends chortled as Olivia felt her cheeks heat up lightly.

The boys ran off, disappearing to fight over who got what room. Olivia placed their five keys on the large, clean marble counter in the open kitchen. There were all sorts of appliances and a large fridge. It was the kind of place she used to live in with her father. Now she lived in a small, but nice, apartment a few blocks from the firm. She had paid for the thing herself, not liking to take money from anyone, even her father. Olivia enjoyed being dependent. She didn’t like feeling like she owed people.

“I super called it, Zayn!” Niall shouted from the hall. Olivia smiled softly, not showing her teeth.

“An emotion.” Harry’s smooth voice joked from behind her, “We have progress.”

“Your keys are on the counter. If you need anything, you have numbers to call.” Olivia told him politely.

“Do I have yours?” Harry questioned, peering over at a crisp, piece of paper on the fridge with a list of numbers and dates and places they were scheduled to be at. “Olivia Mann. There you are.” He popped out his phone and leaned against the counter, typing in the number.

Olivia watched him carefully as he pocketed it. “You going to put anyone else’s number in there?”

“Nope.” He said simply.

Olivia looked expectantly at the curly haired Brit, “Why not?” She demanded.

“Because.” Harry tilted his head, examining her face. Olivia suddenly felt self-conscious under his gaze.

“I’m eighteen.” Olivia sighed.

Harry pulled his head back, confused, “What?”

“You asked how old I was. I’m eighteen.” She told him plainly.

“I don’t need anyone else’s number but yours.” He answered.

“What if I’m not available?”

“I think you will be.” His cockiness was irritating Olivia deeply.

“Just to be safe,” Olivia made her way to the fridge and yanked the paper down, placing it on the counter in between her and Harry. “Put a few more in.”

“What’s in it for me?” Harry grinned cheekily.

“My foot not in your ass.” Olivia replied snarkily. Harry threw back his head and laughed.

He pulled out his phone again and put a few more numbers in. A satisfied smile graced Olivia’s lips.

“What’s going on here?” Niall questioned with a serious voice.

“Olivia’s not putting her foot in my arse.” Harry answered, hopping into one of the tall chairs for the island.

Niall nodded like he needed no further explanation. “Let’s order pizza.”

“‘ave it.” Harry nodded as the rest of the boys piled in.

“You staying for dinner, Olivia?” Louis asked hopefully. Olivia wasn’t sure why. She had known these boys for all of an hour and had spent most of it ‘sassing’ Harry.

“I should really get home.” Olivia shot it down politely, “I’ve got to do paperwork before tomorrow.”

Niall looked genuinely disappointed. “What’s tomorrow?”

“The Today Show.” Olivia frowned, “You guys are singing on The Today Show tomorrow. Don’t you read any of your emails or answers any of your calls?”

They all exchanged slightly disgusted and pained looks. “No.” Liam said.

“Not really.” Zayn shrugged.

Olivia rubbed her face, “Well, you all are singing on The Today Show tomorrow. I’ll be here at five—”

“In the morning?” Niall asked horrified.

“No, at night, you daftie!” Harry reprimanded.

“Right,” Olivia went on, “I’ll be here at five. Be ready. We’ve got a lot to do in the next few weeks. Harry’s got my number—”

Niall interrupted again, “That was fast.”

Harry’s elbow connected with the blonde Irishman’s ribcage. He gave a pained groan but looked apologetic.

“It’s on the fridge.” Olivia said irked. “If you need something, call any of the numbers.”

“Why would we need anyone’s number but yours?” Liam questioned.

“That’s what I said.” Harry stared at me.

“Just in case I’m unavailable and it’s an emergency.” Olivia explained tiredly, “But, try not to have any emergencies tonight. You just got here and I’d very much like to get a real job in the company before they fire me.”

“A real job?” Louis frowned. “You don’t work for the company?”

“I’m just an intern.” Olivia answered quickly, feeling her stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. A lot had been going on in the office to get ready for these boys.

The boys mulled that over as Olivia opened the elevator uneasily.

“Be ready—”

“At five.” Harry waved her off, rolling his bright green eyes. “We heard you the first dozen times.”

Olivia huffed as the doors closed.

“Bye, Olivia!” A few voices called as the metal doors clicked shut.