Isabelle

I pulled my sweater tighter around me, attempting to warm myself up. The London International Airport was cold – colder than the warm air I was familiar with in Arizona. Glancing to my left, I noticed a large crowd forming near an arrival gate. The crowd was made up of mostly teenage girls that had mixed expressions of anxiety and excitement on their faces.

I met eyes with Hanna. She shrugged her shoulders and continued reading her magazine, not seeming to care about the crowd. I tried to ignore the commotion by popping in my headphones and listening to music. Hanna always criticized me on my taste of music; apparently it's too loud. That may be true, but I'd rather rip my eyes out than listen to any of the top ten songs on iTunes.

"What are you listening to?" Hanna asked without taking her eyes off the magazine.

I sighed, ready for a snarky remark. "Bring Me the Horizon."

Surprisingly, she didn't say a word about my music. "What time is it?" she asked. We'd been in London for only an hour, and all we wanted was to leave and finally make our way to the home of the Eiffel Tower and Seine River. I hate layovers.

"3:42," I replied.

Loud screams echoed throughout the airport. Hanna and I exchanged glances and stood up to see what was happening. A tiny blonde girl was rushing past us towards the other girls. Hanna grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "What's going on over there?"

The blonde looked at Hanna skeptically. "Uh, One Direction's plane just landed." Her accent was perfectly British, just like the rest of London's civilians.

Hanna's eyes widened. "Holy hell, seriously?"

The girl rolled her eyes and turned away to continue towards the door. Hanna began to follow her. I had no idea what a One Direction was or why Hanna was actually interested for once.

"Hanna!" I called. She didn't respond. I didn't really feel like getting in the middle of that mess, so I rolled my eyes and sat back down.

I picked up Hanna's magazine, flipping through the pages aimlessly. It was all boring mainstream shit, and I was completely uninterested. Until I saw the words "One Direction" typed out in large letters above a picture of a group of extremely attractive boys. Four brunettes, one blonde. I lingered on the curly-haired boy's smiling face for an embarrassingly long time. Harry Styles.

I looked up at the crowd of girls. It seemed that the five boys had arrived and were currently being mauled by vicious teenagers. Frightening.

I caught sight of one of the boys, the one with spiky hair. I looked at the magazine to match a face with a name and saw that it was Zayn Malik. He took a picture with a few of the fans before saying goodbye. The blonde boy, Niall, followed closely behind him. I watched as they headed towards the nearby Tim Horton's. I had gotten a drink from that restaurant just a half an hour earlier.

The other three boys stayed with the fans, taking pictures and signing autographs.

I turned my attention away from the madness and continued listening to my music, resting my eyes.

Niall

My stomach had been grumbling since the moment I got on the plane to London. Being without food for such a long time was taking its toll on me. The boys and I were expecting a large gathering waiting for us at the arrival gate, but I wasn't planning on sticking around. I love the fans, but I'm a man. I have basic needs. Like the need for food.

The fans screamed at us and cried and clinged to our clothing as usual, and I wondered how I would possibly break through this crowd. There were more people than expected.

"Holy shit," Zayn muttered. "I have to go to the loo." He probably knew he wouldn't be able to use the bathroom for quite a while.

I laughed. "I'm hungry."

"We know," Liam joked, patting me on the shoulder and trudging into the mass of people. I admired that about him; always willing to take the lead. Harry and Louis followed closely behind him, starting to sign autographs and take pictures.

I heard my name being called out from different directions and my head began to spin. Zayn began to push through the crowd, clearly not able to hold his bladder much longer. My stomach grumbled again and I followed him.

We eventually broke through and told the fans we were heading out. Surprisingly, none of them tried to follow. Louis was putting on a good show in the middle and not many people noticed we were leaving.

I made a bee-line towards the Tim Horton's where they sold delicious pastries. After buying a powdered one, I looked around to find somewhere to sit. The tables at Tim Horton's were completely full, so I headed for a nearby departure gate.

There was a girl with long, straight, nearly black hair sitting on one of the chairs. She was listening to music, tapping her finger against her iPod with the beat. I sat down across from her, curious. I wanted to get a better look.

She had a young face, with tan skin and a lack of makeup. Her eyes were closed.

I found myself wondering what color her eyes were. I sat and watched her for a while, eating my pastry sloppily.

Her eyes fluttered open. They were the most brilliant blue I had ever seen in my life.

Isabelle

I was face to face with the blonde boy from One Direction – Niall. He was seated on the bench across from me, eating some kind of powdered pastry. At first he looked like he was in awe. He then smiled at me nervously, as if I was going to jump him.

I managed a small smile before looking down at my iPod to check the time. 4:02. Our plane for France would be leaving in thirty minutes. Where was Hanna?

"Hey man," I heard a voice say. Harry Styles, the curly haired boy that I had been admiring earlier, had come to sit down next to Niall. "Things are crazy over there, the fans are asking for you."

"They know I need my food time," Niall said with a playful smirk.

"Who is this?" Harry asked, gesturing towards me. "Thank God, you're talking to a fan after all. The guys were joking about how you care about food more than fans."

"I'm not a fan," I muttered.

Harry stared at me. "Oh," he said, taken aback. "Okay. Well, what's your name?"

"Isabelle," I replied.

I felt four eyes burning into me. They were shocked that a girl my age wasn't a fan. Completely flabbergasted. I scoffed to myself.

"You're visiting London?" Harry asked.

"No."

"You live here?" Niall suggested.

"Nope."

"Give us a hint here, Belle," he chuckled, taking another bite of his pastry. He chewed with his mouth open. It was noisy and rude, and had always been a pet peeve of mine. Gross.

"This is just a layover. I'm going to France for a week trip with my friend," I explained. "And please don't call me Belle."

Niall leaned forward in his seat, his blue eyes staring into mine. "Do you speak French, Belle?"

I mimicked his action and leaned forward so our faces were level. I felt like I was staring into his soul. "Je ne t'aime pas."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Where's your friend, Belle?"

"If you call me that one more time, you'll lose your reproductive organ," I snapped. Niall chuckled happily and Harry's eyes widened. I continued, answering his question. "She's…" I looked over towards the crowd of girls. Hanna's neon orange shirt stuck out, and she was mingling with the boyish brunette of the band, Louis. "Talking to your friend."

Harry and Niall both followed my gaze, and Harry grinned. "You're here with Hanna?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Yup. She introduced herself to you, too? I never thought she was a huge One Direction fan, but I guess I was wrong." Lie. Until today I didn't even know what One Direction was.

Harry and Niall both laughed.

"Hanna isn't really a fan…she's Louis' good friend from back in the day," Harry told me.

My head whirled. Hanna was friends with Louis? Someone famous? In a mainstream British pop band? All this time I hadn't known about a very significant part of my best friend's life. Confusion washed over me.

"I think you're mistaken," I choked out.

Niall grinned. "No, we're not. Louis talks about Hanna nonstop, he's practically in love with the girl and she won't give him the time of day because she says she wants to live a normal life."

"One big confession at a time, Nialler," Harry warned. He could probably see the color drain from my face as I tried to process all of this information. "Holy shit, she looks like she's going to pass out."

"Isabelle?" I heard Hanna's voice question me. "Are you okay?"

"Hey Hanna," Niall said.

Hanna's face lit up. "Niall! Get up and give me a hug, fatty."

Niall laughed and stood, brushing crumbs off of his tan pants. He embraced her in the way a brother would hug a sister. "Nice to see you, Han."

Hanna sat down by me, patting my arm. "I see you met Isabelle. Isn't she lovely?"

"Oh yes," Niall replied. "I love a woman that threatens to castrate me."

Hanna's eyes widened. "Isabelle, what?"

"I learned that she doesn't like being called Belle," he explained. Hanna burst out in giggles. She knew me well enough to know that any nicknames were off-limits. I found them cheesy and weird.

"Well, I assume you told her about my secret," she said. I shot her a glare. I felt betrayed. Why hadn't she told me? "Chill, Isabelle. Louis and I met when I lived in Doncaster."

I had forgotten that. Hanna was born in Doncaster and grew up there. When she was ten, she moved to Arizona and eventually lost her British accent. I guess she'd stayed in touch with a close friend. Why should I be angry about that?

"Oh," I said bluntly. "I was worried. Our plane leaves in twenty-five minutes."

Hanna cringed. "About that," she began. "Louis invited us to stay with them for a while. They just finished the X Factor tour and they're about to start recording their first album…I kind of wanted to stay and catch up with Louis and the rest of the guys for a few days."

I exhaled sharply. "Hanna…"

"Hey, Belle, don't worry," Niall said with a smirk. "We'll make you feel right at home."

I stared at him. "I don't want to feel at home. I want to feel like I'm in Paris."

"I'll make you snails for dinner and you can look at a picture of the Eiffel Tower," Niall suggested, grinning. Harry let out a chuckle.

"Please?" Hanna begged, widening her eyes and sticking out her lower lip. I couldn't stand her puppy-dog face. She knew it got her whatever she wanted.

I dropped my head into my hands and began rubbing my temples. A moment later, I looked up and three hopeful faces were waiting for my response. "Fine," I caved.

Hanna squealed and pulled me into a hug. "Thank you, Isabelle!"

I smiled weakly. My brain was racing. I would be living with five attractive men from a British pop band for the next few days. How would I survive?