Best for Last

We’d all heard of the girls, but none of us imagined that we’d ever actually meet them, let alone tour with them.

We landed in Los Angeles late in the afternoon of July the sixth and took a taxicab to Hidden Hills, where we were staying the night at the Jordan Waters’ house with the Selena Gomez, the Miley Cyrus, and the Demi Lovato.

The house was large and expensive, as most homes in Hidden Hills seemed to be. We dragged our luggage up the long driveway until we finally reached the gargantuan house. Niall rang the doorbell, resulting in a yell from inside of the house a second later. Then the door opened, revealing the Jordan Waters. She smiled widely at us, “You must be One Direction!” she said happily, “Please, come in, make yourself at home!” I noticed something about her voice, like there was almost an accent underneath her Californian one.

She helped us move our luggage from the porch to the foyer and we all stared awkwardly at each other because none of us knew what to do. Sure, we’d met plenty of celebrities, but never any like Jordan. Thankfully, Louis spoke up with a seductive smile on his face. He offered his hand to her, “Hi, I’m Louis and I’m single.”

She shook his hand and nodded her head, trying to figure out how to respond to that first impression.

We went down the line, following Louis’s lead and shaking her hand, “Hi, I’m Zayn and I’m single,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and giving her the “vas happenin?” look.

“I’m Niall and I’m single,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Hi…” Harry said, no doubt turning on his charm, “Hello, I’m Harry and I’m single.” She humored all of them, as if they were each saying something extremely original and interesting.

It finally came to my turn. The corners of her lips turned up into an almost-smile. She had this intense way of staring, letting you know that you had her full attention. “Um, I’m Liam and I’m single?” I said uncertainly. I was single, but the pressure to compete was on.

She cracked a smile and took a step back to look at all of us, “Hi, I’m Jordan and unfortunately I’m not single.”

We all laughed, shrugging off our attempts at a pass. “At least we tried,” Louis said for us.

She agreed and changed the subject, “So, um…There are four spare bedrooms, so I hope you don’t mind sharing, and one of the spares is downstairs so at least one person will be isolated from the rest of us.”

Louis elbowed her playfully, like he’d known her ten years and not ten seconds. She didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she looked glad that they’d skipped the awkward getting-to-know-each-other-before-we-can-joke-around stage. “I’ll take your room, if you don’t mind.”

Harry chimed in, “I’m sharing with Louis!”

She looked at both of them nonchalantly, “Actually, I don’t live here, but you’re welcome to sleep in my old room. It might even still have a few of my things in it, since that’s probably what you want—a high school diary, old clothes, you know.”

Oh, she was good. Louis seemed to think so too, “Touché, Waters,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring jokingly.

She grinned. “Anyway, let me show you around the house while we wait. Selena Gomez, Demi Lovato, and Miley Cyrus are all joining this little slumber party tonight, but they’re picking up our rental car for tomorrow.”

“We’re not taking a bus?” Niall asked, confused. It only made sense for the tour buses to pick us up tomorrow.

She shook her head, “The buses’ll be at the venue when we get there tomorrow—it’s stupid for them to come from LA to Hidden Hills just to go back to LA.”

We agreed with her logic and proceeded with our little tour of the not-so-little house. It had been decided that I would take the room downstairs and the rest of the boys would sleep upstairs. The house, which belonged to her father and stepmother, was quite big and spacious—big enough for the nine of us, certainly. When it was over, we all settled into a living room type of area and listened to old jazz records while we waited for the other girls.

“I’m a big fan of jazz,” Jordan explained as we all studied her dad’s massive record collection, which expanded the length of a wall. He seemed to like it too. “I sang it in high school with the band—probably some of my favorite ever performances.” She sat on the couch, watching each of us thoughtfully.

“I auditioned for The X Factor with a jazz piece,” I said. “Cry Me a River.”

She grinned, “Really?” she asked, more of a surprised statement than a question. “That was the first song I ever performed live; I sang it as a duet with my best friend’s boyfriend.”

“Are they still together?” Harry asked.

She smiled, “They just had their four year anniversary. I’m actually quite jealous of them.”

Louis took this opportunity to slide right next to her and put his arm around the back of the couch. “Having boyfriend troubles, are we, love?”

Harry sat on the other side of her, just as close, “We can certainly help fix that.”

The doorbell rang then and she excused herself, never answering the question.

As soon as she was out of earshot, we all turned to each other. “Damn,” Zayn said in approval.

Louis let out a low whistle and Harry attacked his chest with playful excited punches.

“Oh, Jesus,” Niall said, wiping away imaginary sweat.

“She has a boyfriend,” I said flatly. They all turned to glare at me like I was a huge buzz kill. I, too, found Jordan to be attractive, but it wasn’t my place to get in the way of a relationship. At least, not without knowing her first.

Jordan reappeared with three other girls in tow. They were all very attractive, but at the same time average, in a way that made you pinch yourself because you thought their degree of unpretentious beauty could only exist in your dreams.

She introduced us before we had a chance to speak. “Girls, this is Zayn, who is single. On the couch is Harry, who is single, and Louis, who is single. This is Niall, who is single, and Liam, who is ‘um, single’ with a question mark.” She smiled widely at us all, while we stared at her in amazement. She had memorized our names and my uncertainty without having shown that she’d done so.

“Boys,” she continued, “These are the girls: Demi, who is single,” she gave us a big wink and Demi blushed and elbowed her. “Miley, who is dating Liam Hemsworth, who is six-three and will kill you, and Selena, who is dating the one and only Justin Bieber, who is not six-three but will hire somebody to kill you if necessary.”

We chuckled, enjoying Jordan more and more by the minute. Always the gentleman, Niall spoke up, “If we’re using all the guest rooms, where will you girls be sleeping?”

They exchanged a look. “The master bedroom,” Selena said for them. Miley slung her arm round Jordan’s shoulders. We stared at them, wide-eyed and intrigued; we had all heard stories of the suggestive things girls do when they have slumber parties, but we never actually thought we’d get to take part in it.

Of course Louis said what we were all thinking, “Wait, are you… Are you sharing a bed?”

“Aren’t four of you?” Jordan inquired. I watched as Miley’s fingertips gently grazed Jordan’s breast and I gulped.

“But that’s in three different beds…” Harry said, wanting to carry on with the suggestive conversation, but staring at Jordan’s chest.

Jordan shrugged, her breast being grazed once more. Soberly, she said, “It’s fun, sometimes. Except in the middle of the night when you get hot and can’t move the blanket without disturbing the girls you’re next to.”

“Yeah!” Miley agreed, “And you get all sweaty and—”

One of them broke character and laughed suddenly, causing the others to follow her lead. “Never once has one of our sleepovers ended in making out, so get it out of your heads,” Demi said between fits of giggles. “You should see your faces.”

We all laughed unsurely, amused but now filled with fantasies of the four and trying not to let it show through, even though they all knew. I was glad that they were so open so quickly; it made me look forward to touring more than I had when we were convinced that they were all huge divas. They were like us, in the way that they had established who they were as a new band and as people. I couldn’t wait to become friends with them.


The boys and I had decided that we would thank the Jordan and the girls for letting us stay with them by making dinner. Harry and I were the best cooks of the group and had no problem taking control of the situation—Jordan, however, seemed hesitant.

“You’re my guests,” Jordan said, “I can’t make you do that.”

“No, no, we want to,” Harry insisted. “Just think of it as a little thank you gift for letting us spend the night here.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Jordan said, biting down on her lower lip and thinking. It had been idly mentioned that the four girls had an appointment somewhere soon, but she looked willing to skip it and be a good hostess instead.

“They’re sure, Jordan,” Miley said passively, giving her a hoodie and her purse. She tapped her wrist where a watch would’ve been. “We have to go now if we’re going to make it on time.”

“But it’s rude of me to leave,” Jordan argued.

“We would ban you from the kitchen anyway,” I said nonchalantly. “Go. It’s obviously a big deal.” Miley stood behind Jordan with her hip popped and her arms crossed.

She nodded slowly, “Okay. If you need to go anywhere, take my car—it’s the green one, and it’s better mine gets destroyed than my parents’. Here is the key,” she took off a shiny silver key from its chain and handed it to me. “Americans drive on the right side of the road.”

“I just did an inventory and I don’t think we’ll be needing anything,” Louis shouted from the pantry.

She nodded again, this time to herself. “Okay. We’ll be back in an hour.”

“I wonder what they’re doing,” Niall said as the front door shut behind them.

“Girl shit,” Zayn said, leaning on his arms against the counter. “Waxing, probably: they seemed a bit jumpy.”

“Well…” Harry said. “They’re all very fit.”

And fit they were. For a group of washouts, they still had it in them, even if it was buried deep in

We retired early that night after a lovely dinner. We got to know the girls on a personal level, with all rumors aside. We found out that Jordan was dating a boy on Broadway named Carter and that they’d been together for three years, and that she was easy to embarrass; the boys and I weren’t a huge fan of him. Miley really was a wild card, we learned, and she would be quite the riot in the two months we had to look forward to. Selena was a bit of a closet-freak, we speculated; she would take a few days to come out of her shell. Demi was a pistol who just wanted to make a difference. All in all, they were all very normal.

I found myself unable to sleep well. The bed was very comfortable, but I couldn’t take my mind off of the girls—Jordan, specifically. Something about her was so fresh and original that I just wanted to stay up all night with her. We wouldn’t do anything, just talk, and she would tell me about her story and I would tell her about mine and then we’d fall asleep listening to each other’s breathing as the sun came up. I imagined her body next to mine, warm and still.

She had a boyfriend, I reminded myself. I shook my thoughts away and stood up, walking to the kitchen to get a drink of some sort. A light was still on in the sunroom, and I could hear a soft female voice. I recognized it immediately as Jordan’s and found myself walking quietly into the room to see if she was all right.

She stood in a corner, with her hand cupped around the speaker of a phone. She was in her pajamas—a long baby blue men’s button-down shirt and black knee socks, with wavy brown hair cascading down her back. She turned to me, smiling from the conversation and taking my breath away. “I love you too,” she said, her blue eyes staring intently into mine just like they had when we first met. She giggled softly, “Okay… Bye.”

“Boyfriend?” I asked, smiling and walking over to her.

“Mom,” she said, tapping the phone awkwardly in her small hands.

The teasing from dinner kicked in again, “He doesn’t even call to tell you goodnight? God, some guy he is.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m waiting for him to call. He’s not that bad, really. I mean, I know that he’s gonna get made fun of because he’s on Broadway and whatever, but he’s a great guy.”

“Uh-huh,” I said quizzically, “And when did you say the last time you saw him was?” Jordan had revealed at dinner that, while she and Carter were apparently “going strong,” they hadn’t seen much of each other since he moved to New York, eighteen months prior.

She bit her lip, “The New Year.”

I raised my eyebrows, wordlessly proving a point.

She sighed tiredly. “I’m afraid things aren’t going to work out,” she said suddenly. “With me and Carter, I mean.”

“But you said—”

“I know, I know,” she looked down, as if she was embarrassed. “I love him, I really do. But we’ve been drifting apart and I’m scared. He’s the only boy that I’ve ever been with.”

“Oh, Jordan…” I said softly. She looked up at me. “You’re going to be a ‘college girl,’ as you say, soon—you should do what’s in your best interest. Any guy would be lucky to have you, no matter how many times you hear it.”

She smiled a little, “Thank you.”

“I mean it. It’s such an honor to be touring with girls at your level of fame—truly incredible, like a dream. I’m obsessed with Disney, and here I am, with four of its stars.”

She laughed once, rather sarcastically, “Disney’s not all that great, believe me; it’s been on thin ice a lot recently.”

I ignored her; I wouldn’t let my childhood fantasies of Disney be ruined with harsh reality like hers had. “I know I’m gushing,” I said.

I was about to go on, telling her how much I admired her and how talented and beautiful she was, but the phone rang in her hands. We both looked down at it.

“Well… That’s him,” she said.

I nodded, “I suppose I should get to bed then.”

She smiled a little, showing no teeth. “Tomorrow it’s my turn to gush,” she said before answering.