I sat across from the same five boys that had been revealed in my office, glaring sharply at Sterling. We were in Hard Rock Cafe, which, of course, had taken forever for us to get into, and I was already working up a head-ache. Sterling had insisted on not allowing me any beer, especially after his slip up to the People magazine. I personally thought that I acted crazier when off of the drink.
Sterling didn't listen.
Instead, he introduced me to One Direction: Niall, Harry, Liam, Louis. And Zayn had left. I had resisted the urge not to mutter, I can see why, and nodded to each of them with a nasty smirk on my face. Louis studied me - actually, he studied my hair - and Liam just kept looking from the magazine Niall was holding and back to me. That brought on another smirk.
This is how it all begins.
It's not as though Sterling hadn't tried to get me collaborations with other bands and singers before. To make the story short, one failed song-writing session with Taylor Swift, turned to a four year feud. I got a lot of hate then, and fame dwindled like the beer in my mansion's fridge. The argument was only resolved after I totally insulted one of her ex-boyfriends (no, not Harry Styles) and defended her against who knows what.
And that insult only led to more failed collaborations with dozens of other artists. I'm not an easy person to work with, especially not when it comes to my type of music. I like rock, Screamo- I don't do teeny-bopper or country. Either they do what I want, or I walk.
You'd think that Sterling would've figured it out by now.
But the man is delusional.
I'd figure out how to get out of this tour; I'd figure out how to get out of all of this. As of this moment, I'd rather live on my brother's couch than work with a bunch of popstars.
They had other ideas.
"So... what songs do you like to listen to?" Louis asked.
I didn't answer.
"What do you like to write?"
I rolled my eyes, kicking Sterling under the table. Curse him, for making this deal!
"Um... should we dye our hair black too? So we all match?" I threw my hand down on the table, and Louis, who had been leaning forwards as he continued to ask questions, shot backwards. The chair slammed into another person's chair, and the occupier turned around and glared at Louis.
"That'd be your cue to be quiet," I said. Harry glowered at me, and shoved Louis's chair back into place. I sighed, tapping my foot on the floor. "I'm going to ask you to not ask me any questions. Just let me do the talking, the writing, and the..." I looked them all up and down, eyeing their jeans and messy hair. "And the wardrobe."
"Now, Aviva." Sterling said, reaching across the table to pat my knuckles. I yanked my hand backwards. He rolled his eyes, and continued, "You can't do everything yourself. The boys have to help, as well."
I nodded to the waitress, who gave me a wide-eyed look as she recognized me, and then took my drink - water - from her. She sat down Niall's milkshake, handed Louis his Sprite, and nearly dropped Liam's and Harry's coke on them.
She smiled, embarrassed, before saying to Sterling, "Your beer should be out soon."
Sterling ignored her. I took a sip from my water. I hadn't ordered anything else from here, so that I could stop by Wild Rover's again. Everlee herself had said that she'd call my brother if I came for a drink the night she threw me out. But they still had other things at that bar; croissants, bread, cookies. The list was endless, and if Everlee thought I'd become drunk on sugar, I could go to Starbucks.
I snorted. Like every other cliche fanfiction, the main girl character could go to Starbucks. Smirking, I put my glass down on the chipped wooden table.
"Sterling, care to tell me why I'm here? I could be doing something useful right now," I said.
"Well, I certainly hope that 'something useful' does not involve sitting on your brother's couch in your pink underwear," Sterling countered. I felt my cheeks go red; had Garrison seriously told him what I was doing at that moment?
"Keep your voice down!" I snapped. "People and the paparazzi do not need to know what color my unmentionables are."
"I would've thought you would've chosen a more suitable color to match your skin tone," Harry said, cocking an eyebrow. "Purple, for instance."
"And I would've thought that you would've chosen a better girlfriend than Taylor Swift," I shot back. I may have just ended my fight with Swift, but that didn't mean that I didn't have a little bit of a grudge to hold on to still. It wasn't like I was bashing her or anything.
OK, maybe I was. But you would too if she topped your song in the top 100 Songs of 2010. Coming in second place stings, people. I could go on about my List of Grudges, but then we'd be here all night. I aimed to get back to my mansion tonight - I was tired of watching my music videos on my brother's laptop. That wouldn't happen if I droned through numbers 1-1,000.
Harry glared at me, looking at his coke. "We thought we'd come here to get to know you. Because we have to-"
"Work with you," Liam interrupted him. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we can do this."
Niall snapped his fingers under Liam's nose, shaking his head. I tilted my head to the side, raising my eyebrows. After some hurried conversation in whispers, Liam continued his sentence, "I mean, I don't think we should dye our hair black, but we'll be happy to work with you!"
I grumbled, "Mmm-hmm. OK. Good, because you wouldn't look good in black. Maybe... a silver." I reached forward, running my fingers through his hair. "No. Pink, actually." Louis scoffed. "Nice save, by the way."
Sterling tugged at his pink polka dotted shirt, narrowing his eyes at me. "Boys can wear pink, too. No reason to get that look on your face, Tomlinson. How about you rein in that beast, Av?" His tone was dripping with a warning. I rolled my eyes. Should've fired him LONG time ago.
It's not too late to go back to that couch, is it?
"How about you stop trying to dictate what color I dye my hair?" I asked, standing up. I picked my purse off of the chair, and swung it over my shoulder. "Orange next. I can wear all black at the next concert, I'll go with an even more spooky theme than usual."
"Aviva!" His voice sounded exactly like freakin' Garrison's. I paused.
"Or you could wear all orange. It'd work for you."
I turned my back, and walked away.
[A/N: I am not bashing Taylor Swift. In fact, I love her music. I just went with one of Harry's most well-known girlfriends for Aviva's insult. And Aviva had mentioned her feud with Taylor Swift before, so I figured I could use her again. I hope I haven't offended anyone. I'm glad you guys like this story so far, and I hope you like this chapter!]