I unlocked the door to my new office and smiled. It hadn’t even been two hours since my boss had called me. Two hours ago, I was still the lonely intern who knew everyone’s Starbucks orders by heart. Now I had moved up in the world and can actually afford the Manalos on my feet. I sat down in the luxe leather desk chair and closed my eyes, but the phone on the desk started to ring, interrupting my moment of peace.
“Hello, this is Rachel Anderson,” I answered automatically.
“I have your first assignment,” said a low monotone.
“Oh hi, Frank. The assignment?” I asked excitedly.
“Yeah,” he drawled sleepily,
“My boss says that I’m moving up too, and that I could give my project to you. It’s a lot of… fun.” Frank finished.
“Thanks so much Frank,” I said.
“You start right away. Like now. Conference room 2-“
“Okay, thanks Frank, talk to you later, BYE.” I said cutting him off and hanging up. I got up from my chair and smoothed my skirt. As I headed down the hall to Conference Room Two, I heard shouts and crashing. What the fuck? This was a professional environment. People shouldn’t be fooling around like this. It gets me so distracted. I pushed open the door and saw five teenage boys before me. Looking to the left, I saw a tired middle-aged man collapsed on the couch. I glanced at the clipboard I had managed to grab from Frank’s office.
“So you must be Paul,” I said walking over and shaking his hand. It was my first project and I wanted to make a good impression. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“Tea,” he said, sounding relieved. “With two creams and one sugar, please.” I noticed his English accent and was glad that I remember my manners.
“Of course,” I said, walking over to the coffee bar, which had been ransacked already, from the looks of the empty sugar packets and creamer spilled all over the counter. After I fixed their tired managers tea, I looked at the clipboard. “And you must be One Direction,” I said, looking up at the boys that Paul had managed to rangle and get to sit around the long black table. I tried not to freak out. They were all so attractive! How could someone be so perfect looking in person? Swear to god, they were airbrushed. All I wanted to do was cuddle with them and hear their life stories. The one wearing stripes started to rip up the legal pads with the SYCO logo on them and started mashing them into paper footballs. The blond one jumped up and started making a goal post with his hands from his position at the end of the table.
“Well, where are our manners boys?” said the tall one with short dark hair. “I’m Liam,” he said holding out his hand.
“Rachel Anderson,” I replied, shaking his hand, happy that someone was keeping it professional.
“Zayn,” said the boy with the dark quiff. I guessed they were introducing themselves, and probably should stop drooling.
“I’m Louis!” said the boy folding paper footballs.
“I’m Niall,” added the blond boy who was acting as the goal post.
“And I’m Styles. Harry Styles,” said the boy with curly hair said from behind me. I whipped around and found myself looking straight into his beautiful green eyes. I stuck out her hand.
“Anderson. Rachel Anderson,” I said raising my eyebrow cockily, letting him know what he was getting into. He wrapped his big, strong hand around mine and shook it firmly.
“Pleased to meet you,” he drawled. I gave his hand an extra pump and turned around sharply. If I looked any longer I thought my heart would have exploded. How did someone I met two seconds ago have this much effect on me?
“Well, boys,” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. My attempt to get their attention failed. I rethought my plan. The professional aspect obviously didn’t appeal to them. “Anyways,” I said, trying to turn whatever attention they were paying to me back to me. I grabbed the crumpled wad of paper from Louis and smoothed it out. I ignored his cry of protest and expertly folded into a triangle. I bent down over the table and flicked it over the waiting fingers of Niall’s goal post. “We’re here to talk about you, not me. So what can I do for you today?” I announced, pleased with myself.
“Well,” said Louis, impressed. “The boys and I are here to try out some new songs we wrote.”
“Okay,” I said. “So we can schedule some studio time, and see how it goes from there?”
“Sounds good,” Paul said, standing up and clapping his hands.
“Hold on there,” I said.
