Chapter One.. Meeting you. Everything had gone smoothly that morning. I woke up and put my hair in a bun so it would be nice and wavy when I took it out. I managed not to spill coffee all over my favorite shirt a crop top I had bought at a shop while I was in the Bahamas. I shaved my legs, and managed not to miss any spots. I didn't stab myself in the eye with mascara, and my eyeliner was cooperating beautifully. So when I stepped off that plane in Miami Florida, fingernails polished almost flawlessly without a single breakout spot on my face, I knew what would happen. Nothing. That's what always happened when I tried too hard, thought too hard, dreamed too much. In those little daydreams I saw myself swaggering out of LAX with my suitcase in hand and running straight into Niall Horan who would apologize and look straight into my eyes and demand that I marry him. I saw myself walking off that plane fiddling with my hair in my fingers, being met by Louis Tomlinson, who would ! confess an irrational love for me. But, obviously that only happens in my dreams, and it's quite possible I'm just a crazed fan who thinks I'll just get lucky. Therefore, I went about my day at the airport as usual. My mom told me that I could wonder around and do whatever the hell I wanted, just because she had things to do, and things to get done. So I decided I'd just hang around Starbucks. Like I always do. Heck, I have nothing else productive to do with my life so I might as well sit around and ...
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