Hi, everyone! I'm so excited, I finally figured out how to publish a story! This is my first ever attempt at a story,

so be gentle! Reviews and comments with constructive criticism are welcome, but no flames please! I had to

change names to make sure they didn't delete my story, so please don't become the crazed fans we all know

you are and yell at me for misspelling Louis' name! (JKJK, I love you guys. I'm secretly one of you!) Now, on

with the story!

Chapter 1: Meeting Louis

I was walking down the street at midnight, on my way back from Donato's pizza, when I ran into him. Now, I know what you're thinking: What on Earth is a teenager doing out on the streets of New York alone at midnight? Doesn't she know how dangerous that is? Etc. etc.

Yeah, ordinarily a teenager alone on the streets of New York was in danger of being mugged or shot or whatever. But I was literally two blocks from my house. This was my routine at least twice a week. I would go down to the little pizza joint on the corner to fuel my exhausted mind for more NYU homework. Then I would return to my crappy flat and spend the next four or five hours doing homework with my flatmate Lisa. Luckily we both had the exact same classes, so that was a plus.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, him. I had a pizza box in one hand, and in the other I was holding my latest crime thriller/mystery book. I wasn't looking where I was going, and ran straight into something hard. I thought it might've been a wall again, since I've run into those while reading before. (Hey, don't judge me. Everyone runs into things from time to time. It happens.) When I looked up, however, I found myself staring at either the most adorable wall in existence, or possibly the cutest guy I'd ever seen. I dropped my book and we both bent to pick it up, knocking heads in the process. When we straightened up, I was blushing madly and he was smirking. I took my book from him and said "Thanks."

He looked at me expectantly. I stared right back. I had no idea what this guy wanted from me, but the stare gave me an opportunity to look at him for a while. He was taller than me but still short for a guy, with feathered caramel hair swept into his eyes. Clearly he spent more time on his hair than I did on my entire appearance. I found myself blushing a deep crimson. I was, let's just say, not at my most attractive at this particular moment. Dressed for a night of studying, I was wearing baggy sweats and my hair was pulled back in a messy bun. I had no makeup on, and I knew how odd-no, ugly- I must look to him right now. No wonder he's staring, you probably look like a complete mess. He however, is gorgeous. Look at him, those eyes are dreamy...where was I? Oh, yeah, right.

His eyes were the brightest, clearest blue I'd ever seen. His upper body was muscular, but not overly so in the way that made you look gross. His legs however, were pretty muscular. His thighs had to be bigger around than my head, and they looked like they were made of rock. He was wearing cuffed red jeans and a stripy shirt. He had to be simultaneously the sexiest person to walk the earth and the cutest guy I'd ever met. I had no idea how he pulled it off. I could barely even be considered human standing next to him.

After a while of staring, he asked me in the most adorable British accent,

"What? No screaming? No jumping up and down or asking for an autograph?"

I was thoroughly perplexed. "What?" I asked him.

He looked at me funny, almost like he was sizing me up. "Really? You have no idea who I am?" He asked me.

"Not a clue," I responded, "but seeing as how you act like I should, let me guess. I'm a part-time detective, I'll have you know." I grinned a little at this last bit.

He smirked at me. "Alright Sherlock, who am I?"

I looked him up and down for a second before beginning. "Well, obviously you're famous, and quite well known. Given your looks," I blushed slightly at this, but barreled on, "you could be an actor, but I watch too many movies not to know who you are if that were the case. Given your muscles, you could be an athlete, probably a soccer player." His eyebrows shot up at this, so I knew I was close. I smirked triumphantly. He started to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm not done yet. I said could. However, you have a British accent. I follow sports, and I know there aren't any international games in the near future. Yet here you are, all the way in NYC. You must be here for something important, something other than football. Seeing how there are paparazzi hiding all around here, my guess is you're a musician." He nodded, looking stunned, but gestured for me to continue. "Singer, probably. But I listen to a lot of music, and I didn't recognize you. The only genres I don't listen to are pop and rap, and you don't look like a rapper. So I'm guessing you're a pop singer. Solo? I don't think so. My final guess is that you're a famous pop singer in a 'British Invasion' band."

He looked at me for a second before speaking, his eyebrows raised and his mouth open. "Wow. I'm willing to bet you already knew me. That was TOO detailed. You're completely right. If you weren't messing with me, you sure you're not related to the real Sherlock? I still can't believe you didn't recognize me, but I'm Louis Thomlinson, a member of a famous British-Irish boy band. And you are?"

I smiled. I loved being a detective and I loved being right. "Helena Jacobs. I'm a student at NYU. Sophomore. And I honestly didn't recognize you. I just really like mysteries and crime fiction. I remember a little about your band from high school. A bunch of girls did presentations on you for IT class, but I gotta say my eyes glazed over for most of it. I'm not really much for bubblegum pop. More of an alt rock person." I giggled and shook his outstretched hand. Seriously Helena, a giggle? What is wrong with you?

His eyes widened and he pressed his hand to his chest in mock hurt. "What? You don't like my band? You are the strangest teenage girl I've ever met."

I smirked. "I've never been much for following society's guidelines. Sorry to disappoint."

He smiled. "No, it's refreshing actually. Talking to someone who's my age that doesn't know me. It's almost like I'm a normal person."

"Speaking of age," I asked him, "how old are you anyways?"

He grinned at me. "20. How old are you?"

"19." I replied.

"So, Miss totally-against-society's-conventions," He smiled at me, a shy half-smile that made my heart flutter, "would you be totally against me asking for your number and subsequently asking you to coffee?"

I smiled so widely it split my face in two. "Not at all, Mr. Thomlinson. Here you go." I handed him my number, then said, "There's a Starbucks a block over. How's about I take you up on the coffee offer right now?"

"Sounds great." He said. "Let's go."

And just like that, I was on a date that most girls would kill to be on. And it only got better from there.

Well, there it is! The first chapter of my first story! Im so proud! So, guys, comment like or review if you liked it, or don't. I dont mind. But, just to be evil, I'm not updating this until I get three reviews. It could be a smiley face for all I care, I just like to know people are reading. I promise that as soon as I get three reviews the next chapter will be up within a week.

P.S. I have no idea where to send this story. I have an idea for another few chapters, but evil writers block strikes again! If you have a really good idea, message me. I'll consider it.

THATS ALL FOR NOW! PEACE OUT, PEEPS!

-XOXO