You meet him in a public place
Zayn: You walk down the streets of London, trying to ignore all of the people stopping in the middle of the pavement to look into the windows of shops and tourists trying to snap pictures of every little detail of the city from hundreds of different angles. You walk a little further down the street and turn into Topshop, one of your favorite stores. The store is much more crowded than usual and there groups of people, a majority of which are girls, coming up and down the escalators. In the corner of the store by the escalators, you can hear the sound of someone crying uncontrollably and another girl trying to calm her down. You casually browse the rack of sweaters nearest you, silently wondering what the sobbing girl was being so hysterical for, but are shortly interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around and meet the gaze of a tall, tan boy with the most amazing hazel eyes you have ever seen. The boy has on pair of chinos and a leather jacket that had been unzipped to reveal a dark shirt underneath. His black hair was quiffed perfectly. You immediatley realize that the man who had tapped your shoulder was none other than Zayn Malik from One Direction, who was admittedly one of your favroite bands. Zayn was holding up a flannel shirt that he had found upstairs at Topman in one of his hands and pointing to it with the other. He must be the reason behind the overly crowded store and the girl crying not ten feet from you. ”Uhm, do you have this in a smaller size?” Zayn asks, the smell of smoke and mint radiating off of every sllyable, making it even harder for you to focus on what the hell was actaully going on. “O-oh, I don’t work here,” you somehow sputter out. Zayn’s face looks confused as he looks you up and down. “I’m so sorry,” he says apologetically, “you just look like you work here. The way you’re dressed made me think—” You look at him, raising an eyebrow, not sure if it was a compliment or if he hated how the Topshop emplpoyees dressed. He can sense your disarray and immediatly becomes more contrite. “No no, it’s a good thing! A really good thing actually, you have quite a lovely style,” he says. His compliment is acomponied by a slight half smile and a wink that made you just want to rip his clothes of right then and there and just stare at the rest of his wonderous body. How on Earth am I being so cool about this, you think to yourself. Usually in a situation like this where you are standing so close to your favorite member of a band you love, you would be unable to stay relaxed and would probably blurt out something obscene and embarassing, but maybe you were wrong…
Liam: You stand in line behind a tall blonde girl chatting loudly into her phone at one of the many Starbucks’ in London. Her voice echos around the whole store and is giving you a bit of a headache. You consider leaving to go get coffee somewhere else but a second later you, the blonde says goodbye to whoever the hell she was talking to and hangs up the phone, putting it into a pocket in her oversized purse that she had slung over her shoulder. The door opens behind you, letting in a gust of cold air from outside. You fold your arms and sigh quietly to yourself as you become more impatient. Finally, it is your turn to order. You take the spot of the tall blonde who was now standing to the side waiting for her drink. “What can I get ya?” the casheer asks. You order a hot chocolate with hazlenut flavoring, something you loved but was not on the menu. The casheer smiles as you pull out your wallet, handing him the money you owed. “Name?” he asked as he pulled a large cup from the stack by the register. “(Y/N),” you say with a smile as he puts a pen to the cup, scibbling down your name. You stepped off to the side, once again taking the spot of the annoying blonde who had, to your relief, left. Starbucks seemed oddly understaffed today, so the drinks were not being made as quickly as usual, making you wish that you would have left before you ordered. You lean against the counter and wait, looking at the long line that had formed behind you and smiling at the fact that you did not have to wait as long as them. You scan the people waiting to order: college students wanting to destress after exams, business men checking their watches anxiously as they do not want to be late for something, and then, there, at the front of the line taking his change with a smile from the casheer, was the one and only Liam Payne. He stepped aside to wait for his drink, smiling at you as he looked down at his phone. He put his phone into his coat pocket and ran his perfect hand over the buzzed hair on his head. You wanted so much to say something to him but you were worried you might blurt out something stupid and make a fool of yourself in front of your favorite memeber of One Direction. You looked down at the ground, smiling and blushing. Liam’s innocent mouth parted as he let out a little sigh. A couple minutes later, the barista set down two cups on the counter where you and Liam both waited. You try hard not to throw your arms around him as he steps foreward with that smile that makes you just love him more everytime you see it. You grab the cup that was set down closest to you and he grabs the second. Liam puts the cups to his lips, taking a cautious sip. You mimick him, the warm liquid filling your mouth but not matching the taste you are used to. You examine the cup of coffee that the barista had given you by mistake and out of the corner or your eye, you see Liam doing the same. He is holding the cup, trying to read the scrawled name written on the side by the rushed casheer. “Um, I think our drinks got mixed up,” you say holding up Liam’s coffee in your hand and awkwardly letting out a small laugh. Liam smiles and holds up the white cup containing your hazelnut hot chocolate. “Yeah, I was gonna say, this doesn’t taste much like coffee,” he laughed, showing off his admirable smile. You both laugh and exchange cups, taking a sip of the new drinks in your hands. He takes the cup away from his mouth and nods, swollowing the coffee. “This is definitely mine,” he points out, “sorry about that.” “You don’t need to apologize, it was the barista’s fault,” you reassure him, playfully nudging him with your elbow. You smiled as he laughed and nudged you gently back. “Well, whatever it is you’re drinking, it was rather good. Do you want to sit?” Liam asks, nodding his head towards an empty table.
