Louis: "Sounds good to me. I don't see why it wouldn't work," you heard one of your closest friends say as you came down the stairs. "I'm ready to go," you called. "Well, yeah, I'd say somewhere between August and October would be good. As far as..." Louis's eyes met yours, and they widened slightly. He choked on his water. "Uh, yeah, I'm gonna have to call you back," he said, his eyes not leaving yours. Your brow furrowed at his odd behavior as he ended the call. His mouth was slightly parted as he examined your entirety. "Um..." He cleared his throat, dragging his eyes back up to meet yours. "Babe, I don't know about you, but it's a little chilly today. You might want to go put some jeans on." You gave him another confused look. "Lou, it's July." He just gave you a look that said not to argue with him and that there was a reason for his request. You were about to question him when he attempted to subtly place one of the couch cushions on his lap. "Oh," you said, your eyes widening. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be right back."
Zayn: "Ahhh!" you shrieked, jumping backwards. "Ahhh!" he echoed, equally as startled. Your coffee was spilled all over your shoes, your purse on the floor, phone screen visibly shattered. He just looked traumatized. After a few seconds of staring at each other with wide eyes, you finally stuttered out a quiet "I thought this was the girls' changing room." His face turned redder as he said, "It's unisex." "I-I just came back f-for the jeans I left in there," you stammered. You'd swung the changing stall door open, and there he stood in his boxers, like a deer in the headlights. "Erm, here you go," he said, picking them up off the bench and handing them to you. "Oh, man. Your shoes. I'm so sorry. I'll buy you a new pair." "No, it's okay," you said quickly. There you were, standing in front of Zayn Malik, and you'd walked in on him in his underwear. "No, I should have locked it." He sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes scanned the damage done to your phone, which lay in a puddle of coffee. "And a new phone screen. There's a booth here that replaces them. If you have time, I'll pay for it, I swear." "Okay," you said, still trying to organize your thoughts. "I'm Zayn," he said. "And I'm also half-naked, so I'm just gonna put some clothes on and then we'll take care of that, yeah?" You nodded slowly, not knowing how else you could respond.
Liam: "What is that?" you said slowly as your eyes locked on his forearm. He looked down to the place you were staring at, and his face reddened slightly. "Oh, um..." He scratched his head and looked down at the linoleum beneath his feet. "Well, I..." You didn't know how to react. He'd come home late, and when he finally rolled out of bed the next morning, you were greeted with a sleepy "Morning, babe" and your name inked on the inside of his arm. "I was drunk," he blurted out. Your eyes had yet to leave the large, cursive letters. It was beautiful, but... I mean, it was your name on his skin. Permanently. Like, forever. What if you broke up? Even worse, what if he broke up with you and got a tattoo to cover it up? "Li, I... I don't even know what to say about this. I mean, if you got that while you were sober that's fine. I won't think it's weird. I just... I mean, either way, I... I just don't know that that was very responsible," you said honestly. "Okay," he said slowly. "I got it because I wanted to," he admitted after a few seconds. "But I didn't want you to freak out." You swallowed hard. "I, um..." "Is it too much?" he asked. "Should I get it removed?" "No," you said quickly. "I mean, you can if you want, but I don't dislike it. It was just... surprising." He smiled a little. "Um, I, uh... So breakfast, yeah?" You nodded slowly, still looking at the ink on his skin. "Yeah," you said absently. "Breakfast."
Niall: It was your second date, and you had been taking it slow. He hadn't even held your hand on the first date, had only offered a callused hand when he came to pick you up today. You liked him a lot, and you wanted another date. You wanted a million more dates, but you weren't sure how he felt about you. He laughed at all your jokes and made you try his food, insisted that you would love it. You felt very coupley, but you didn't really know where you stood with him. The drive back to your place was fairly quiet, as you were lost in your thoughts about how he did or did not feel about you. He wasn't sure how to interpret your silence, so he didn't interrupt it. He just examined you from the corner of his eye as he drove, hoping to catch a glimpse of how you might feel. It wasn't until he pulled up outside your house that you broke the silence. "I really like you," you blurted out lamely. He smiled a little. "I like you, too," he said quietly, squeezing your hand. You bit your lip as you looked up at him. It was obvious that he was as nervous as you were. "Can I kiss you?" he practically whispered. You nodded, swallowing hard, and hesitantly moved closer to him. When his lips found yours, it was awkward at first. It was a few seconds before it really started to feel natural, but by the time it ended, you were in desperate need of a third date.
Harry: You were on the train, coming home from your boyfriend's house. It was Valentine's Day, and you'd gone to surprise him. Instead, you were the one surprised. When you knocked, another girl answered. Apparently, she was his girlfriend. His other girlfriend. You knew you shouldn't have been wasting tears on a man who'd cheated on you, but you couldn't help it. You'd devoted your heart and your time to him, and he'd thrown it all away. "Love, are you... Are you okay?" You sniffled, wiping your eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," you said, not looking up at the stranger sitting in the seat beside you. "Why are you crying?" the man questioned. "It's Valentine's Day. It's supposed to be a happy day." You looked up at the curly-haired man and recognized him but didn't have the heart to start fangirling. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could find the words to say, you started crying again, legitimately sobbing. You blubbered something about a boyfriend, but he couldn't understand what you were saying. "Hey," he said gently, taking his arm around you. He pulled you close to his chest and let you cry into his shirt. "Shhh. Don't cry, babe. It's gonna be okay." He didn't quite know what to do, and he tried to do whatever felt the most natural. As he awkwardly tried to rub your back consolingly, he murmured, "It'll be okay. Just calm down, love. Calm down and tell me what happened."
