Naomi Dalton has had a pretty tough life so far, by her parents leaving her to fend for herself at age 15, getting pregnant, and getting her baby murdered when she was 7 months pregnant by a rapist stabbing her multiple times in the stomach. Her existent was eventually consumed by drug abuse, alcoholism, self harm, and her entire family wants absolutely no part of her.

Six years later, she is granted a job at Vouge, one of the most prestigious magazine companies in the entire world, and is working as a receptionist for three months, until she is re-located to the Main Head-quarters in New York City. During her first working day, she is brought up into an interview assistant with one of the most famous boy bands in the entire world, one she was not a big fan of; One Direction. She had heard of them before, but knowing their constant fame, and their rugged female friends, and how many of them knew Her, she chose to have nothing to do with them once every single boy is assigned a receptionist job the same length of time as hers.

Dissapointed, she learns to except the change. But, eventually she begins to enjoy the boys, and become friends with them all. One has his eyes on here, and has ever since he noticed her, and she chose to never notice: That boy, was Harry Styles. Eventually, she realizes all the perks to being around the boys, but will she allow a romance to begin budding when she is informed that one of her most bitter enemies in high school was Harry's ex?


2. 6 years later..

Part 1:

(Naomi's POV)


The air was frozen, the hairs on my back standing, harshly. The night was slowly coming to an end, the small alarm clock beside my bed reading '5:32 a.m.' Fuck, I though. This day would be the longest in a long time for me. 'Teen Vouge' was expecting me at '10:30 a.m'. Teen Vouge is one of the most famous magazines in the world, so this is a big day for all of me. My internship is finally starting. A shock of excitement surged through my veins, pulsing the movement inside my whole body.

Sighing, I toss my giant blankets off my body, and put all of my power into pushing myself up into the floorboard.

Running my hands through my hair, I shrugged my pants down to my ankles, and toss them into the basket twenty-feet away. Grunting, I stomp towards the Showers.

Flipping the see-through door, I grip a rubber band inside my hand, and wrap it into a bun. Staring into my mirror, all I see inside is a pale, blunt-smoking, obese blonde. Im nothing special. I was blessed to even get a call back from the Senior Editor of TV, saying she loved my submission, and wanted to interview me. Surprising, the interview went well, and I was offer a half-million dollar deal to work as a receptionist for the office in Brighton. First, I'm an intern; run and get people's coffee, make copies for the other editors, do make-up jobs every now and then. Shit like that.

My hair splits into different angles, my wispy-like bangs running down the sides of my cheeky face. Brushing them aside with my fingertips, I rush to the cabinet above the toilet, and grip a towel.

I step inside the shower, and flick on the hot water. The walls beside me gleam with water beams within five seconds, moisture tumbling down around the tile bathing floor. Standing in the thickening clouds around me, the steam rockets up to the vent above me, a hollow sound echoes from the insides. I consume myself inside the waterfall from the shower head, letting the warmth bury me inside my own little paradise.


After smoothing out my entire outfit, I strut in front of my floor-length room mirror. Sporting my Grandmother's old plaid Cardigan, Faded Jeggings, a tight Aztec tank top, 'Bob' flats, and my favorite paper airplane necklace, I looked prepared for my first day on the go in a few weeks. I quickly brush any noticeable tangles out of my freshly-straightened hair. I pout, and apply my favorite Mint 'EOS' lip balm, throw it inside my purse, and I tumble down the stairwell.

Tapping onto the screen of my iPad 'Air', I scroll through the new merchandise on 'HauteLook.com', one of my favorite fashion/accessory websites. After about twenty minutes of scrolling through golden-tinted jewels, I stand up, and March into the kitchen, searching for a packet of 'hot chocolate' mix. Raiding every single drawer, I finally notice a small brown packet, and I quickly shake it violently. I could feel the soft, tiny marshmallows thrashing wildly inside.

Gripping a mug, I pour an entire cups-worth of milk inside, and sprinkle the mixture into the drink, tossing it into the microwave.

Checking inside my email inbox, I motionlessly wait for the best beverage to be ready. My day was just getting started.

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