Somehow throughout the car ride to my apartment, I was convinced to let the boys come upstairs and wait in my living room while I changed out of my sweat soaked clothes. Somehow the boys had managed to be completely clean and looked flawless, as was their nature. In my opinion, the fact that girls had to try so hard to look decent and to see boys walking around in a t-shirt and jeans with hair sitting just right, as the most infuriating thing in the entire planet.

The moment the elevator doors opened, the boys shot out past me, pressing their noses against the glass windows, leaving their fog and finger prints all over it. Liam threw himself on the couch, picking up the universal remote and began hitting a bunch of buttons, changing the lights, fans, and the radio. Niall found himself preoccupied in my huge fridge that was kept stocked with the most delicious food. Zayn had his nose pressed against the glass still, and as I walked into my room, Harry was sprawled on his side, pouting at me on my bed.

“Oh, yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Big sexy.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned, rolling off of the bed. “It’s not every day you get to see Harry Styles lying in your bed, yeah?”

“It’s not everyday you get to be in Bentley Slade’s bed,” I retorted easily, walking into my closet. I heard his laugh echo behind me and smiled.

Harry’s personality was very similar to my own: witty, friendly, outgoing and flirtatious, although he was much more the later than myself. He seemed so honest and open about everything, like he had nothing to hide, and I was somewhat afraid of that honesty, the ability to open up.

Since I had met the boys, they had told me every detail about themselves they possibly could in two days. I learned that Niall was obsessed with eating, loved wearing snap backs, that his guitar was the best present he had ever received, that he was claustrophobic, and that he had an older brother, as well as a panoply of other information.

I learned that Liam never drank because he had to have a kidney removed as a child, resulting in his fear of hospitals. He also had a girl friend that he was mad for, and he had even said he would use a spoon for her. He was a hopeless romantic, and a responsible young man, who took hours out of his day to retweet every single one of his followers that tweet him daily.

Zayn was a proud Muslim, and he was not as quiet as I had initially thought. He was a smart kid, who shared the same zodiac sign as myself. He has three sisters, one older and two younger, and he had never even had a passport until he had joined the band, which blew my mind seeing as I was always jetting around the place like a nut when I was little.

Louis was easily the most relatable to my self, with his sarcasm, laid back yet loud personality, and inability to take things seriously. He also had a girl friend that, according to the boys, was an exact replica of him and girl form, and that he loved to make smile. His favorite band was The Fray- I thanked God it wasn’t the Beatles, whom I couldn’t stand. Louis was also born the day after me, two years previous.

Harry seemed to outshine them all in the interesting category. He was a girl obsessed, hyper, flirting maniac, who could not go five minutes without making sexual innuendos. And yet under all of that, he still had hopes of finding a girlfriend to cater to, that didn’t mind his sex dominated mind, and missed his family terribly. They had even told me about his meltdown before going on a rollercoaster once, and he openly told me the story without feeling embarrassed whatsoever. I think it was physically impossible to embarrass Harry Styles, come to think of it.

And here I was, finding myself unable to share everything with them. I shared the basics of course, telling them that I was half British the other half American, that I had grown up playing soccer and doing gymnastics- to which Harry made a remark about flexibility- and that I had a single best friend in the world, and that my biggest fear in the world was suffocating, which is why I didn’t like people to touch me in the neck with their hands. It freaked me out quiet honestly.

I slipped on a tying it at the bottom. It was black with a superman symbol on it, one of my favorite shirts. I slipped on a pair of old, worn jeans and beat up red converse, not carrying at this point how messy the outfit was. The last thing I was trying to do was look good for any boys- I refused to do that for a long time. I ran a brush through my hair and left it falling in half curls, running powder over my face and walking back out of the closet.

Harry was still laying on my bed, flipping through the pages of an old book on the nightstand. I knew the book like the back of my hand, with it’s pages turned yellow from oxidation, the spine suffering from creases and the pages from many dog ears. “There is nothing like looking,” I quoted lightly, plucking the book from his hands and snapping it shut. “if you want to find something.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You must read a lot?”

“Every day.”

“Everyday what?” Louis asked as we walked into the room.

“I’m shufflin,” Harry and I answered in unison, busting into the classic LMFAO move.

“Oi! Can we please get something to fuckin’ eat?” Niall hollered over our boisterous laughter. I rolled my eyes at him, disregarding his cursing. They had already warned me of his mouth, which was perfectly fine with me on account that I did it too.

“Cool it, Lucky Charms.” I snatched my phone and credit card off of the counter, heading for the doors. “Shall we?”
*

The boys and myself ended up at a pizzeria. On the bright side of things, we weren’t swarmed because A.) No one knew One Direction was in town and B.) Anyone who noticed myself or even one of them, said nothing, for usually people were used to seeing famous people in the streets of LA. It was one of the sole reasons I loved living here, even if sometimes I did get swarmed near the tourist’s sections of the city.

The pizzeria was small and cozy, with warm orange walls and the smell of crust and cheese cooking in the ovens. The chefs behind the counter were speaking fluent Italian, and I laughed, understand every word they said as the father teased the son for blushing while taking my order. Italian was one of the many languages I knew.
When the son came back to the table to set our drinks on the table, avoiding my gaze, making me smile. He was younger than me by two years at the least. “Non devi essere timido,” I said fluently, causing his cheeks to flare red as he scurried off. Louis looked up at me. “You speak Italian?”

“I speak Italian, English, Spanish, Russian and French,” I answered, sipping my coke, loving the taste and feel of the fizz. “Mom was a bit of a language freak.”

“So you have a talented tongue?” Harry asked me, using that little smirk of his from across the table. I ignored him and stole a French fry from Niall, who had ordered a huge basket as an appetizer. “Ugh these fries are delicious Niall.”

He smacked my hand away as I went for another. “Hands off, princess.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I am anything but.”

“But you do have a bum.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

We completely devoured the pizza the moment it came, and I had to say the boys were both astonished and impressed at my ability to eat food, although it paled in comparison to Niall. I wasn’t embarrassed to eat like a starved animal in front of them, for I wasn’t trying to impress them. They didn’t have to think me lady like.

We finished up and paid. They attempted to pay for me but I threatened them each separately. I made my own money and I would pay for my own things. I had no reason not too. Sure it was a kind gesture, but I didn’t need knights in shining armor. I needed friends who didn’t mind my independence.

As we were leaving, I paused to tell the boy at the counter how great the food was. He blushed and I smiled as I turned on my heel, walking right into Harry, sending us both stumbling. He caught himself and grabbed my arms, steadying me, as to make sure I didn’t fall.

For a moment I looked up and felt my breath catch in my chest, to see his green orbs peering into mine with an intensity that made me feel like he was looking right down into my core. His hands on my arms were firm, but gentle, as if he were confident I wouldn’t shatter in his hands, but he didn’t want to harm me regardless.

We stood there like morons, staring at each other as an electric current passed through us, neither one really wanting to be the first to move when Louis banged on the window, gesturing for us to hurry up. The moment was gone just like that and I snatched my arms out of Harry’s hands, rougher than I really meant to and exited the building, putting myself at the front of our procession next to Niall, not letting myself to turn around.

Whatever had passed in those few seconds was foreign to me, but I did not under any circumstance like it. Feelings were not my strong suit, and I was not about to make myself look like an idiot again, because the truth was, everyone knew I was an idiot in my relationship with Penn. I was the ice queen.

And I was comfortable living that way.