C'est La Vie

HIM: Niall James Horan. Irish. Boyband member. My best friend. The guy I am hopelessly in love with. All rolled up into one.
ME: Maxime Adelina Mercer. American, but of French descent (cue to my name, in case you couldn’t tell). Personal trainer/physical therapist for previously mentioned boyband. Eternally friendzoned.

Will Niall ever see me as more than just a friend? Or is this just the life I'm destined to live? Being friendzoned by the boy who means more than the world to me.

Find out more in "C'est La Vie"


6. Mission Look Sexy.



8 New Text Messages From 'Irish :)'


Max please talk to me

Max i said i was sorry

U know i didnt mean to hurt ur feelings

I have to talk to u Max

U drive me fucking insane u know that?

Damn it Max i apologized what more do u want

Ur being immature Max

Max wer best friends u know u wanna talk to me


"Baiser ma vie [Fuck my life]." I muttered to myself, face palming like an idiot.

As soon as I had pitched my little hissy fit in the gym yesterday night, I'd escaped to my hotel room like the coward that I am. Instead of facing Niall, I decided to "call in sick" the next day. It wasn't that big of a deal though, the boys just had rehearsals for the next three days here in Sheffield before they put on their next show, then we head back to London for a week vacation. Of course, since I'm the only physical therapist for the boys, if one of them gets injured I'll get called in to help nonetheless.

And if that wasn't pathetic enough, I didn't go to the gym to work out this morning because I know Niall well enough to know that he would be there, to see if he could talk to me. So for the past sixteen hours I've been laid up in my hotel room ordering room service, not wearing any makeup, my hair up in a ponytail, wearing sweatpants and one of Niall's tshirts.

Don't look at me like that.

It smells like him okay?

Stop judging me.

I always turn my phone off when I decide to be a lazy bitch, so when I finally decided to turn it back on, it pinged at me twelve damn times. The eight messages from Niall, and one from each of the other boys.


From 'Sassy Shithead'

I need to talk to you ASAFP.


From 'Payne In My Ass'

What's wrong with Niall?? He's moping around and being grumpy :( :(


From 'Curly Turdy'

Frenchie what did you do to Niall?


From 'Zaynie Baby'

You need to come down to the venue b4 i kill Niall. He's in a pissy mood. 


I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically, even though there was no one else in the room to appreciate it. 

Great. Now all the boys are making me feel bad because of this stupid situation. It's not even my fault! Niall's the one who had to go and flip his shit on me! He oughta know by now that Maxime Adelina Mercer don't take no shit. You raise your voice at me or accuse me of something I didn't do? Shit's going down, brosky.

Well, I take back what I said before. Louis didn't make me feel bad, he just said he needed to talk to me (as soon as fucking possible, mind you). 


Maybe I should call him. 

What if something's wrong?

Oh gosh, what if Niall hurt his knee again?

What if one of them fell off the stage and is in a coma?

What if a crazy fan busted into the venue and kidnapped them all and they're now being held for ransom?

What if the paparazzi surrounded the boys and Niall passed out? He's so claustrophobic after all...

What if--




My inner voice is fiesty today, damn.

But it is right, after all. I need to stop moping about like a coward. So what if Niall and I got in our very first fight? That shouldn't keep me from seeing my other friends! And besides, if Niall really wanted to see me, he would've come to my room.

Well...the sign I put on my door may have discouraged that...

"To Whom It May Concern:

If you even think about knocking I'll personally come out there and chop your testicles off with a rusty chainsaw. And I don't bluff. 

Unless you're room service...you can knock.

Love always, Max"

Erm, yeah...

I tend to go overboard sometimes...

Oh well, sorry not sorry.

I shook my head clear of all the weird thoughts running around up there and pulled myself up into a sitting position.

"Vous pouvez faire cela Max. Vous êtes une femme adulte. Agir comme elle. [You can do this Max. You're a grown woman. Act like it.]" I said to myself.

With that, I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Louis.


To 'Sassy Shithead'

Be at the arena in thirty :)


Okay, so maybe I wasn't actually smiling away like the text implied I was, but Louis doesn't have to know that right?

As I've said before, I'm like a fucking ninja with my emotions. Nobody knows what I'm actually feeling, and that's exactly how I like it. 

So today, I'm going to go to that arena, look fine as hell, and make it seem as though I'm perfectly okay and that mine and Niall's argument didn't leave me emotionally drained.

Life is trying to bring me down?

Well I've got something to say back to Life:

Come at me bitch. Max Mercer doesn't go down easy.


~~Thirty minutes later~~


Now lemme tell you something, I consider myself a very modest person.

I despise wearing makeup unless I'm going somewhere really nice.

I love sweatpants more than anyone on this planet, TRUST ME. I AIN'T PLAYIN' PLAYA.

And my hair hasn't seen a curling or straightening iron in three years.

Well...it hadn't until today, that is.

But anywho, back to what I was saying. I am fairly humble. I know I'm considered attractive to the male population, and you know, that's pretty cool, whatevs. But I don't strive to be this sexy model type of girl, that's just not how I roll.

HOWEVER, when I do try to look hot?

...I look fucking HOT.

Like I said, I'm humble.

After I took a shower, I decided to go for the whole 'making-sexy-seem-effortless-even-though-it-takes-a-whole-lot-of-fucking-effort' kind of look.

I left my long blonde hair down, and even went so far as to curl it to absolute perfection. I put on the skinniest jeans I owned, a pair of silver sequined Toms, and a crop top that showed off my tanned and toned abdominal muscles. And okay, maybe I also put on my  sexiest dangly bellybutton ring that had a heart charm on it. That's not trying too hard is it?

Well I say it isn't, so your opinion is irrelevant now.

You mayn't believe it, but I even decided to put on some makeup (cue collective audience gasp). I know, I know...unbelievable right?

Well believe it bitch!

I was actually fairly surprised that I even remembered how to do a smoky eye. But I did it by gosh!

Lesson of the day: Spitefulness can make a girl look fifteen times more attractive.

So as I showed security my "with the band" pass when I finally made it to the arena, I didn't even mind that they checked me out as I walked past them and inside the massive building.

Move out of the way because I am fabulous today, ladies and gentleman. 

Hey that rhymed.

"Max?" A familiar voice called out to me as I made my way towards the stage where the boys were sure to be located. I turned towards the voice and smiled.

"Oh hey Josh!" I smiled at my good friend, Josh Devine.

Yeah. Me and the sexy drummer? We're tight. You jealous?

I bit my lip to keep back a chuckle as Josh eyed me up and down with wide eyes and dropped jaw. "Damn Max. Who you trying to impress today?"

Niall James Horan.

"Oh this? Nah, I just decided to dress up a little bit today. The sweatpants look gets kind of old every now and then y'know?" I said with a wink.

Josh looked me with an expression that said, 'Yeah, right.'

"Really?" He asked. "So, you're definitely not trying to make Niall feel stupid for pissing you off yesterday?"

"What?" I asked incredulously. "How did you--"

"Oh come off it Maxie, you know how word travels around here."

I sighed in frustration. He was right, after all. One Direction gossips more than thirteen year old girls finally hitting puberty.

"Okay fine. I want him to feel bad. So what?" I said in a semi-sorta bitchy tone.

Josh just laughed and came over to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "It's alright love, I understand." He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "And trust me, looking like that? You'll have no trouble making him feel like a dumbass for making you not talk to him."

I grinned in satisfaction and tilted my head to look at Josh. "Good." I said cheerfully.

Josh just laughed. "So I take it you're heading to the stage?" I nodded. "Well come on, I'm headed over there too. We were given a fifteen minute break about twenty minutes ago, so I'm sure everyone's over there already."

I chuckled. Josh was a really sweet guy, we were sort of close. 

And y'know...he's really hot too, and that's always a plus.

Me and Devine made small talk as we weaved through the hallways backstage, and after just a minute or two I could hear the boys' familiar voices on stage.

"No Louis stop it!" That was Liam.

"Ahhh, this means war!" Louis. Typical.

"Get away from me you demon child!" Liam again.


I looked at Josh with a confused expression. "The hell is going on?"

Josh laughed. "Water bottle fight I think."

"Oh." I simply said. I wasn't surprised at all.

Josh and I stepped on the stage and I surveyed the situation. Water everywhere? Louis on top of Liam trying to unscrew the top to a full bottle? Zayn and Harry laughing hysterically? Niall lazily strumming away on his guitar (looking fine as hell like always, might I add)? 

Yep, definitely not surprised.

"Oi boys!" Josh called out. "Look who decided to show up finally?"

All five boys' heads snapped up at me.

And then all five boys' jaws dropped.

Mission Look Sexy: ACCOMPLISHED.

"Holy shit." Zayn said (I take that as a compliment).

"Hot damn, she is a girl." Gee thanks Harry.

"Woah..." Louis Tomlinson speechless? That's a first.

"Is that Max?" Aw Liam, baby.

I glanced at Niall. His eyes were wide as saucers and his jaw was clenched so tight I was afraid he might chip a tooth.

"Well hello boys." I said flirtatiously with a wave of my fingers.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...