“I trust that you boys will know how to behave yourself while around a proper lady?” Simon Cowell asked, his thick British accent stern. He sat at the head of the table next to my mother. The room was filled with several people working for myself and for the boy band that I was currently sitting next to. Go over the details had been painless, for I was so excited I could hardly contain it. It was also difficult to hold a straight face with the boys whispering and messing around.

“I think the real question is if Bentley can behavior herself like a lady,” my mom muttered, leveling me with her gaze. I looked up from making faces at Louis Tomlinson, who I knew right away would be a fast friend. He was hysterical, kind, and was just my kind of prankster.

I smiled cheekily. “I’m the very definition of lady.”

“You and I have very different definitions of a lady,” my mother said, but not unkindly. She smiled at me and turned back to the tour managers, going into some grown up talk that I had no need to pay attention to.

Starting tomorrow I would be practicing and organizing the world tour with these famous, attractive boys. We would be starting in London, England, and I was thrilled to go there. My mother had already told me she had arranged my grandparents to come to the show, and that was more than enough for me.

I looked over to my other side where Zayn Malik sat, his black hair perfectly arranged on his head. I scrunched up my nose, wishing my hair was that tamable, and I suddenly wondered if maybe I should have put a little more effort into my outfit today. I shrugged and brushed it off, not really caring after a few moments, and leaned over to see what Zayn was doodling on his notepad that he was supposed to be taking notes on, but wasn’t.

I snorted loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as I leaned back, trying not to cackle at the hysterical picture Zayn had drawn of Simon with an overly large head and mean looking eyebrows. Zayn tried not to laugh along with me, but to no avail, giggles escaping our mouth as I gestured for the adults to continue what they were doing.

“You’re quite the artist,” I praised, smiling at Zayn. He blushed, clearly the shyer and the quieter one of the group. If they could be quiet, that is.

“He’s really good with his hands,” Louis whispered jokingly.

I turned and raised my eyebrows up and down saying, “If ya know what I mean.”

“Sick American humor,” Louis said, smiling and narrowing his blue eyes.

“Ha! I bet you lot are ten times worse than I am!”

Harry stuck his curly head around Louis, his green gaze holding me in place. “You talk like a Brit. Crazy American.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, mom’s got Brit in her!”

“Would you like a Brit in you?” he asked, smirking and winking at me. I rolled my eyes and leaned back as the rest of the boys cracked up at the joke.

Within the first few minutes I had characterized each and every one of them. They all fell under the category of ridiculous, immature boys who had too much fun and laughed more than any other group of people I had ever met. Louis was easy to place- he was the oldest of them all, but by no means more mature than the others. He loved to joke around and it was clear him and Harry had an extremely close relationship. Louis was also very sarcastic, and I was positive we would get along just fine.

On my other side sat Zayn, who was biting on his pen now, seemed to be the type that was quiet and reserved in public, but was wild and comical behind closed doors. He was the artsy kid, and they were always deeper thinker than everyone else. He was good to, even his doodle of Simon breathed talent. I on the other hand, couldn’t draw a stick person.

There was Niall, who was the loud and proud Irishman sitting across from me, complaining about how hungry he was. He was adorable, and good-natured. I knew instantly this would be the person to pig out with and I was thankful for it. for a small girl, I had the biggest appetite in the world, something not all boys liked to deal with.

Next was sweet heart Liam, who instantly struck me as the most mature and the most responsible of the group. His warm eyes reflected the warmth in his heart, and I got the feeling that this hid was a lover, not a fighter. If I was ever one who had relationship problems, it’d be this kid I should turn too.

Last but certainly not least was Harry, with his fiery green eyes that reflected in spontaneous and obnoxious personality. He was the easiest to place into the flirt category, from the raunchy yet hysterical comments, and the suggestive smirks. Mischief constantly lit his eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat nervous under his gaze, as if he could see right into me with his curved smile.

“Feel free to blink anytime,” Louis joked, poking me. “I heard it helps.”

“Feel free to go fu-“

“Bentley Rae, if you even think about finishing that sentence,” my mother scolded, cutting me off. I turned around and smiled at her sweetly, half in apology half in amusement.

One of my fatal flaws was saying things without thinking ahead of time. Here I was in a room full of adults, some of them thinking it wasn’t the best idea to have a group of hormonal, irresponsible, hard to handle teenagers all thrown together, especially when you added the amount of fans and crazies that followed us around thrown into the equation. To sum things up, our tour would be a liability. But it would make so much money that no one could say no.

“I’m bored,” Louis complained, ignoring the adults.

“I second that.”

“I know!” Harry said, sitting up straight. “Let’s play twenty questions! We’re all best mates, but you’re new and we have to decide if we like you.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the chair, putting my arms behind my head. “Alright, shoot.”

He smiled devilishly. “Favorite place to be kissed?”

I raised an eyebrow. “My ass.” He glared as the boys cracked up. “My neck, I suppose. Same question.”

A choruses of ‘Necks’ went around but of course, Harry the individual said, “My abs.” I raised a single eyebrow at him as he gave me a thumbs up and rolled my eyes.

“Favorite band?” Zayn sensible, non-intruding Liam asked me.

“Tie between Paramore and All Time Low,” I answered easily. “Favorite movie?”
We went on in this fashion for the rest of the meaning, and I found out things that were both amusing, not surprising and just plain weird about the boys. Like for instance, Liam had a strange phobia of spoons and didn’t particularly like to use them. That gave me a long and good laugh, much to his chagrin.

Finally the adults announced that the meeting over and I was so glad it was. My stomach was rumbling so loudly that even Louis cast me a look before breaking out into fits of laughter, suggesting that we all go to lunch together. They were interested to learn about “Bee Slade” as they had already begun calling me. I was fine with the nickname, since most people called me Bee anyways.

Settling the plans with my mother, I found myself slipping into the back seat of the boy’s car in between Harry and Louis. How I ended up in that most fateful seat, I had no idea, but the minute we were off, I knew it was about to be a very loud, very ridiculous ride to lunch, and felt bad for their security man Paul and for John who sat beside him in the passenger seat.

The faint sound of the song Baby by Justin Bieber could be heard coming on the radio and Niall, being a huge fan started yelling and leapt forward, turning the knob so that the song was blasting so loud I thought my ears would bleed. We all began singing along to the words, doing extremely weird dances, and singing so off key that I couldn’t help but choke on laughter.

At the last chorus in the song, Harry turned to me and sang even louder, drowning out everyone’s voice and making me giggle, covering my ears. He was so damn loud as he grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me and singing to me. I rolled my eyes at his gesture and swatted at him.
This was going to be the best tour ever.

Notes

Still trying to upload all of these chapters!