Perfect Teeth

I started making YouTube videos because of my teeth. Now when people ask me what sparked the desire to record myself and put it up on the Internet, I give them a different, more polite answer. “I just really wanted to create something, and I can’t draw so…” I tell them with a little shrug, before eagerly moving onto the next question.

I can’t draw, not much besides bad sketches during intense games of Pictionary, but I had no desire to create something during the summer after my sophomore year of high school. I was sick of being self conscious in every photo, giving closed-lipped smiles as everyone else showed off their braces-straight teeth. I was irritated with my insecurity, so I decided that I would use the eight weeks off of school to get over it. I recorded my very first video in the middle of July that summer, six and a half minutes of rambling about what things I liked recorded in really awful quality on my mother’s point and shoot camera. I rewatched that video at least ten times before I summoned up enough late-night courage to post it, eyes focused only on the gap between my front teeth, large enough to fit a sunflower seed through. I waited for the sudden influx of scathing, anonymous comments, but I didn’t get comments of any kind. In the first week, that video got maybe 13 views and at least 9 of them were of my own doing.

So I recorded another video, more awkward awful jokes and I posted it again, waiting, refreshing the page every few seconds to see if anyone commented. Because that’s the thing with flaws – sometimes you’re so self-deprecating that you want someone else to point them out. I wanted someone to point out the gap between my teeth and call me a rude name, some type of validation for my obsession. I told myself that someone else’s acknowledgement would provide motivation to get over my imperfect front teeth, but really I was hoping for an excuse to stop making videos and admit that they were awful and maybe it was time I begged a bit more for braces, even though I really only needed them on my two front teeth. But the validation didn’t happen, not then, at least. I got my very first YouTube comment on that first video, but it wasn’t mean, just a simple, ‘you’re funny – you should do a tag video! sub for sub?’

And then somewhere in between making videos to get over my discomfort with my teeth, I started making videos because I enjoyed making them. I liked spewing shit in front of a camera and making funny jokes and using hilarious music when I was editing. I responded to comments and bought a better camera for my sixteenth birthday party and I kept doing the YouTube thing. I found another community of creators and signed onto their partner program and started making a little bit of money with my videos. Doors opened and opportunities were created and somewhere between that first video and now, four years and 362 videos later, I hit over a million subscribers and won a Streamy (the internet equivalent of like, an Emmy) and was voted Best YouTube Personality on RyanSeacrest.com. (I still have to repeat these things daily to convince myself that they actually happened.)

It was brilliant – I was doing something I loved and actually making a decent living out of it. I was getting to travel and collaborate and I had a supportive community behind me. But out of everything, subscribers, awards, and friends weren’t the most important thing to come out of my videos. Maybe important is the wrong word – they weren’t the most monumental or life-changing. No, that was Harry.

Because if I hadn’t been freakishly obsessed with my teeth and made that video four years ago, I wouldn’t have been in London in the first place. I wouldn’t have transferred to University of the Arts, London, and I wouldn’t be working for Daily Mix or Tongue in Cheek TV. I wouldn’t have interviewed Harry or One Direction in the first place. I would’ve been back in the States, going to one of the liberal arts colleges I had so extensively researched and getting a degree to become an English teacher.

None of it would have happened. Which is so strange, to accredit a website with the highs and lows I’d experienced in the past four years of my life, but it was true. Harry changed my life in a huge, monumental kind of way, but YouTube changed it first.



“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry.” I wheezed, tearing through the room like a blistering tornado of a girl. My sweater was half falling off my shoulder, my bag was barely dangling on the crook of my arm, and my face was flushed from exertion, because I’d just tried to shorten the twelve-minute walk from the tube station to the studio to five.

Alfie looked liked he was well into the stages of my murder plot, his eyebrows pinched together as I breezed into the room. I heaved my school bag by the door and started towards where ZZ stood, plopping down in the armchair in front of her.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Alfie sneered from the seat next to me, pointedly looking from me to the five boys lounging on the sectional across from us. “It’s not like you’re twenty minutes late when we’re interviewing the biggest boy band in the world. I’m sure they just love to wait.”

I tried not to wince at the level of disdain in his voice as ZZ stippled foundation across my cheeks, purposely ignoring the five boys sitting across from me, each looking mildly shocked at my rushed and harried presence. Alfie, of course, was already prepped and ready to film, hair perfectly coifed and blazer steamed to perfection. He’d probably been ready for the past two hours, going over the cue cards in his hand while I was in the midst of a terrifying chemistry lesson.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized again, looking up towards the ceiling as ZZ swiped powder along the contours of my face. “We had a pop quiz in chemistry and then I hit the work traffic on the Tube and I’m really, really sorry.”

Alfie still looked like he smelled something foul, lip curled as he reshuffled the index cards in his lap.

“How was the quiz?” ZZ asked, shooting Alfie a fierce glare as he opened his mouth to presumably berate me some more. She was pulling another brush out of the holder slung across her waist and dabbing something underneath my eyes.

I let out a long sigh and focused on her purple hair. “I only cried a little bit, which is good, but I completely blanked on chemical compounds, which is bad.”

ZZ sent me a sympathetic smile and pocketed her brush back in its proper place. “You think it’d be a little easier, considering it’s art school and all.”

I sent her a brow raise, like, yeah, you would think so before Alfie let out another strategically placed huff and glare in my direction. There was uncomfortable shifting from the boys in front of us, who had not resumed their conversation and were looking between Alfie and me warily.

“She’ll have to do like that. We need to mic’ed and then start.”
Alfie gestured towards my frazzled state of undress just as a microphone was dropped in my hand. ZZ pursed her lips and gave me a once over as I secured the mic on the collar of my shirt before slipping my sweater off and shoving it underneath the seat.

If I hadn’t been twenty minutes late to possibly the most important thing to ever happen to Tongue in Cheek TV, I might’ve sassed Alfie back, but given that I was and he already didn’t seem to like me much anyway, I kept my mouth shut. I’d been in London for a little less than two weeks, working with Tongue in Cheek every day, and while most of the team seemed to like me, Alfie barely tolerated my presence. He’d been with the web channel since the very beginning, co-hosting with two other people in the past three years before my arrival, and he wasn’t chuffed about having to share the hosting spot.

There were seven other people explicitly involved in the filming process of the show – Luke and Sawyer, who filmed; Jack, who fiddled around with sound; Karen was in charge of wardrobe; ZZ handled make-up and hair; and then Alfie and I hosted. Normally the small studio was empty, save for the seven of us and perhaps the small entourage of whoever we were interviewing, but today the room was jam-packed. There were bodies lined up along the walls and clusters of security guards hovering around the edges of the room, all a part of the posse that was Britain’s (and possibly the world’s) favorite boy band.

Getting the interview with One Direction itself was nothing short of a miracle, I was told. Apparently it had been through a favor of a friend to get the slot in the first place, but then there had been the rescheduling. I couldn’t exactly blame them – when you’re gracing the covers of Glamour and GQ, you don’t exactly need the media coverage some web series is going to give you, but it still pissed everyone in the building off to know that we were what kept getting shuffled around.

ZZ smudged her thumb under my eyes, removing whatever make-up traces were left there, and hummed. “I suppose you’ll do. I’d like to do something with your hair--” she fingered one of the limp locks hanging in front of my face (she was lucky I’d even bothered to brush it this morning). “—but you’ll do.”

“Well, thanks.” I huffed out, but I sent her a grateful smile as she stepped off set. We were on a raised platform on one side of the room; a fake living room set under four blinding filming lights, three different cameras angled towards the couches.

ZZ leaving meant that she was no longer blocking my vision and I was free to observe the five boys sitting across from me. Seeing celebrities in the flesh is a weird thing, because all of the sudden you’re made painfully aware that they’re people. Suddenly, they’re no longer the words they post on Twitter or the one-dimensional screen personality you’ve watched through YouTube videos, they’re living and they’re breathing in front of you, and you can see bits about them that you’d never noticed before, like how Niall has a slight over bite or that Harry’s boots look like they’re one scuff away from falling apart at the seams.

“Hello,” I breathed out a greeting, trying to push back the sudden nervousness that was tickling at my stomach. They’re just people, I had to remind myself. Normal lads with abnormal amounts of fame and success. “I’m Ezra. It’s lovely to meet you and I’m so, so sorry for keeping you waiting.”

I hoped maybe my polite introduction and apology would uncurl the scowl on Alfie’s face, but no dice.

“It’s not a problem, love.” Liam sent a reassuring smile my way, suddenly breaking the silence between the boys. I was actually a bit surprised at the lack of chatter, but I chalked it up to the time being a little over 9:10 in the morning.

“Education’s important and all that,” Niall agreed with a nod.

“It’s chemistry, so it’s not that important.” I said with a shrug and a smile. “But thank you for being so understanding.”

Each and every one of them sent me a smile full of bright white teeth. Teeth were the first thing I noticed about someone; it was like in that split second introduction I was searching for kinship or not – fellow crooked teeth got more smiles and relaxation then my Colgate smile friends. It was judgmental and rude and irrational, but I couldn’t seem to reroute my brain.

“Filming in four!” Luke called from across the room, fiddling with something on the camera.

“Okay, so, I just want to start by saying that along with the stuff on your no-ask list, I’m not going to ask you anything inappropriate.” I reached for the stack of cue cards on the coffee table in front of us. “I know it probably seems implied, but sometimes people are more comfortable when I tell them. So no religion, no politics, no sex, no drugs, only rock ‘n roll.”

Louis cracked a smile, most likely at my bad joke, and nodded. “Sounds alright, love.”

I turned to Alfie to ask if there was anything else we needed to discuss before we started filming, but he was pointedly turned away from me and scrolling through the iPad we were going to use for the Twitter questions. I thought about saying something else, perhaps apologizing one last time, but I had been up since 6:10 in the morning and I already had enough of my own snark, I really didn’t need his.

“Sounds brilliant then.” I said as I turned back around.

“How long’ve you been working here?” Niall asked as I straightened up in my seat. Luke signaled that we had two minutes before the stream was going to start and positioned himself behind the camera.

“Like a week and a half? I’ve been in London a little less than two weeks.”

“East Coast?” Harry guessed, tilting his head to the side.

“Connecticut.” I affirmed. “Even though everyone seems to think I’m from California.”

“Why London?” Louis leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

“This.” I waved around the studio, gesturing at the lights and the cameras. “I was asked to contribute to Tongue in Cheek and Daily Mix, which is another YouTube channel, and both of them are based in London.”

“You moved half way across the world for work?” Niall was incredulous. “How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen.” I laughed. “And there were more opportunities in London than in Connecticut, trust me.”

“As lovely as Ezra’s entire life story might be,” Alfie cut in as Luke gave the signal that we were ready to go. “I think the teenage girls around the world are much more interested in One Direction.”

“I’m pretty boring.” I agreed with a polite smile, aiming for professionalism, despite how transparent I probably sounded. I could barely handle Alfie and his jabs on a good day, let alone a day that already felt a million hours too long in front of international pop stars.

“You guys ready?” Damien, one of the show’s coordinators, stood directly off stage between two cameras. Normally he didn’t bother to come in on filming days, giving the okay on videos after they were already edited, but apparently a live stream with One Direction warranted his company. “We’re about to go online.”

In an array of head nods and murmurs of agreement, we were ready to go. There were a few seconds of delay as the cameras focused and we went online, but Damien gave us a thumbs-up and I turned towards Camera One.

“Greetings, Internet friends.” I started. “I’m Ezra--,”

“—and I’m Alfie—“

“—and we’re here today with probably the biggest deal in the world right now—“

“—it’s One Direction everyone!”

Another flurry of waves and smiles and hellos and I sunk back into my chair, folding one leg underneath my body as I shuffled through the cards in my hand. We’d been in debates about what kind of interview we wanted this to be in the first place, serious introspective work or fun and cheeky. Alfie wanted to make this into a serious piece of journalism, and while I couldn’t blame him, I was more on the funny route. We were with a group of five boys and this was going on the internet, not a segment of 60 Minutes.

“Now, gentlemen, we’ve got questions streaming in from all around the world on Twitter.” Alfie set the iPad down in his lap and readjusted his microphone. “So we’re going to start with those.”

“If you’d like to tweet One Direction a question, you can use the hashtag 1DTongueinCheek, so, y’know, get on that.”

“First one,” Alfie scrolled through the feed quickly, the suddenly influx of tweets a bit surprising. “niallhoranmakesmehorny – amazing username, by the way – asks, if you could be one superhero, who would you be?”

“I’d want to be Iron Man.” Zayn answered first, his voice a low hum, and almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth there was controversy.

“Is he a real super hero, though? He doesn’t have any real powers, he just makes suits.” Niall asked, genuine curiosity flashing across his face.

“He can fly.” Liam pointed out. “And he’s saved the world.”

“He’s a normal guy, just good at making things. That isn’t really a superpower.” Louis agreed.

“I think that’s what makes him the best superhero, though.” Harry interjected, and suddenly his voice was this thick wave of heat that rushed over me. “Because he’s just a normal guy and he can still save the world. He doesn’t need telekinetic power or control of the weather; he can build a suit and save the world himself.” His voice was gravel and molten rock and all I could think is, I would let that boy read a receipt to me if it meant listening to his voice all day. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard Harry talk and I was more than familiar with the deep drawl of his speech, but it was the first time I was hearing it in the flesh and it send a little jolt through my system.

Before I could get too deep into dangerous trails of thought, I mumbled agreement with Harry. “Self-made superheroes are the best kind.”

Harry flashed me a smile, another glimpse of his perfect teeth and deep-set dimples, and we shared a moment of affinity as everyone else accepted his explanation and moved on.

Liam wanted to be Superman, Louis wanted to be Magneto, Niall wanted to be the male-version of Storm, and Harry agreed to share the identity of Iron Man with Zayn.

Alfie handed the iPad over to me for the next question, reminding the viewers to tweet in their questions as I scrolled through the feed. There were over 400,000 people watching us right now, which made my head hurt to visualize, and the number only continued to grow.

“Okay, I like this one. Remiissocoollike – also awesome username, Charlie would be flattered – wants to know, if you guys could be one food, what food would you be? Also, I am just going to put this out there – does that mean you can eat yourself, if you’re food? How does that work?”

“The deep philosophical pondering of cannibalism early on a Wednesday morning.” Louis muses. “Ezra, you are one deep thinker.”

“I’m thrilled someone appreciates my talents.”

“I can only be one food?” Niall sounded distressed. “There are too many options. Can I be a whole cuisine?”

“I’m gonna say no.” Alfie shook his head. “Just one specific food.”

“Nandos, then? Can I just be Nandos?” Niall looked from between Alfie and I hopefully, as if the rejection of his food-spirit being Nandos would actually crush him.

Before Alfie could smother some more fun and make him choose between chicken or chips, I obliged with a laugh and a nod.
“Nandos, you have a new bestselling item. It’s Niall.”

He beamed at me.

“I’d want to be pizza.” Liam answered next. “You can do no wrong with pizza.”

“Lasagna?” Zayn seemed hesitant in his choice.

“Is there a metaphor for layers in there?” I teased, leaning back in my chair and moving my leg out from underneath me. I could already feel the pins and needles starting on the bottom of my foot.

“Sure, absolutely.” Zayn nodded. “Complicated food for a complicated guy.”

Louis opted for being macaroni and cheese, insisting that he would be the beautiful fluorescent orange of the Kraft box mix, while Harry still looked stumped. “I think…I’d be toast.”

“Toast?” Liam echoed, leaning forward to send Harry an inquisitive look.

“Toast.” Harry affirmed with a nod. I was fascinated by the way his hair managed to stay in place no matter how voraciously he seemed to move his head.

“Are you gonna explain that one, then?” Louis asked.

Harry shrugged, a full-bodied movement that seemed so distinctly European. “Everyone likes toast, but it’s nothing special until you pair it with jam or cheese and then it’s great. I’m toast, you guys are cheese.”

Everyone took that moment to turn around and look at Harry, eyes wide as he seemed to sink further down into the couch. Two spots of red appeared on his cheeks and he ducked his head instinctively, pulling a hand through his hair. (Still didn’t make it go flat.)

“I think I’m gonna have a stroke.” I finally said, taking a deep breath. “Like a cuteness stroke.”

Harry shook his head and reached forward for the coffee mug on the table, bringing it up to his lips as his band mates let out their corresponding coos of appreciation. Niall, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with an elbow, and Liam reached over and ruffled the top of his head.

“Leave me alone.” Harry muttered, but he didn’t look all that put out. “I’m tired. It’s early.”

“Can’t take it back now, mate.” Louis smirked. “We’ve all seen you for the corny arse you are. Normally that’s Liam’s job, but it’s okay. We like it.”

“You’ve just murdered teenage girls all across the globe.” I said and Alfie laughed, shaking his head as I gave him the iPad back.
“And all across the world, toast is being made so teenage girls ever can say that they’ve had the pleasure of eating Harry Styles, if only in spirit.” Alfie made the joke before he probably processes that this is a live stream, and while it’s certainly not the most inappropriate thing ever said on Tongue in Cheek TV (we don’t even bleep out curse words), it probably wasn’t winning any awards with One Direction PR.

Harry’s eyes bulged and he choked a little bit on the sip of coffee he was taking. “Jesus.” He cursed, shaking his head as he put the coffee mug down. Louis, Zayn, Niall, and Liam were all in stitches, laughing as the blush spread across Harry’s cheeks and down his neck.

“That was great.” Niall wheezed as he calmed back down, face flushed from laughter.

Alfie cleared his throat. “Sorry, mate.” He nodded towards Harry, who only waved him off. “Next question—“

And that’s how it went, pulling question after question for Twitter. Alfie and I both tried to pick unique ones, what motto do you live by? and what’s your spirit animal? and last movie you saw that genuinely freaked you out?

We were full of good natured jokes and laughter and as far as interviews go, it was a good one. The conversation was light and easy and everyone was full of smiles. Even Harry, who had stared into his coffee cups for a few moments, was back to smiling and joking with his band mates.

I was also trying really, really hard to focus on everyone, but my eyes kept snapping back to Harry. Some people are just magnetic – you don’t know what it is about them, but you can’t help yourself, you want to stare and observe and deduce. Sitting two feet across from Harry and not letting my eyes drag back to him every time he shifted or opened his mouth or even breathed was difficult, because suddenly it was like I wanted to absorb him. I wanted to watch the way his fingers twisted the ring on his thumb and the way his cheeks moved when he smiled and the way his body heaved with laughter every time someone said something funny (which was pretty often). I caught his eye a few times during the interview, when I apparently lacked enough self control to keep my gaze away, and he was staring back at me every single time. I reckon I’m probably a spot better to look at then Alfie, but the eye contact still made me feel hot and uncomfortable. He smiled every time we made eye contact, just a tilt in his lips, and it was supposed to be warm and inviting but it mainly felt dangerous.

Alfie was wrapping up our interview fifteen minutes later. “It’s been a blast having One Direction in the studio with us today and we hope that you’ve been given some insight about the Brits in front of you, but we’ve only got time for maybe two more questions. The first one I spot is – okay, what’s your favorite movie? This has probably been asked before, but be honest with us.”

“Grease.” Louis answered easily. “You can’t go wrong with Grease.”

“Agreed.” Niall said.

“Scarface.” Zayn shifted in his seat as he spoke.

Liam laughed. “I’ve said this a million times, but Toy Story. It has nothing on Scarface, but I love Toy Story.”

“Toy Story is a great film!” I defended. “Have you found an Andy for your Woody?”

It took maybe two seconds before I wanted to shove the words back in my mouth, my eyes widening as Liam blushed and everyone else erupted from laughter, a few chuckles even escaping Alfie.

“Ezra!” Louis gasped. “How rude!”

“My best mate’s name is Andy.” Liam offered, refusing to look at my face. “But as for the, ugh, erm—“

“Oh God.” I groaned, raising a hand up to cover my face. “Breaking news everyone, Liam Payne has now filed a restraining order against me.”

“It wasn’t that bad—“Liam started, sending a sympathetic glance my way in an attempt at comfort.

“But it was.” Niall interjected. “It really was.”

“And on that awful note, we’re going to move on.” I stuck a hand out expectantly as Alfie passed the iPad over, not even bothering to glance at his face and whatever look of disdain might be plastered there.

“This is going to be our last question, presumably so I can stop making a fool out of myself in front of hundreds of thousands of people, and let’s try and make it a good one, yeah?” I scroll through the usual stream of give Ali from Utah a shout out and HAZZA WHY WON’T YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME and what do you look for in a girl? until I come across a stream of tweets all with the same hashtag. As soon as I refreshed the stream, suddenly the hashtag was trending.

I eyed Harry warily where he sat, head tilted a bit as Niall spoke. I didn’t know exactly where his boundaries were and what he could or couldn’t do. It would be hilarious, of course, and probably the most .gif-ed thing Tumblr would ever see if it did happen, but I had already promised not to make them uncomfortable.

Covering the microphone on my collar with my hand, I leaned towards Harry. “Harry,” I whispered.

He looked away from Niall instantly and leaned towards me as well. “Yes, Ezra?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how willing would you be to twerking?” I asked, voice barely a whisper.

“What?” Harry seemed completely bewildered, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.

“HarryShowUsHowYouTwerk is trending on Twitter.” I explained, pointing to the screen.

“Negative eleven. I’m at a negative eleven comfort wise.”

“Well,” I let out a little sigh of disappointment. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“What’re you all whispering about over there?” Alfie questioned, narrowing his eyes as I straightened back up in my chair.

“Nothing important.” I waved my hand away. “Harry shot down my brilliant plan, but we’ve got a question anyway.
1DIwantyourDs – um, alright, okay – wants to know, besides spending time with your family and friends, what’s your favorite part of being home?”

After they almost all simultaneously agreed on their beds being the best part of being home, we were ready to sign off.

“It’s been a blast hanging out with One Direction today—“Alfie started.

“—and we hope that you’ve enjoyed watching them answer your questions—“

“—but as with all good things—“

“—this must come to an end eventually.”

“We’d like to thank One Direction for joining us today—“

“—but most importantly, thank you guys for watching and—“

“—as always, keep it cheeky!” Alfie and I both finished off together; the same practiced line that we did at least a hundred takes of the first time we finished a video together, just to get the wording and the lilts perfectly. It was easier to just don a British accent when saying it, rather than try and mesh our different speech patterns together.

“Great job, guys!” Damien moved from his spot behind the camera to congratulate us, wide smile spread across his face.

“Thank you guys so much.” I stood up from my chair, shaking my legs as I stretched them out. Alfie had already started with the handshakes, but when I went to Harry, the first in the line of lads each standing up and stretching their own legs, he shook his head and went in for a hug.

“We’re huggers.” He murmured in my ear as his arms encircled my waist. I tried and forced out a chuckle as I hugged him in return, arms going round his middle for a quick squeeze. I was holding my breath as my head touched his shoulder, refusing to allow whatever intoxicating scent that lingers on his clothing to invade my nostrils. I was having a hard enough time trying to look anywhere but him as it is.

“Thanks for having us.” Harry smiled as we pulled apart. “Even if it was a little embarrassing.”

“Sorry.” I grimaced. “Least you didn’t bring up unmentionable boy parts.” I consoled, bringing my arms back down to my sides.

“That makes me feel loads better.” Harry said flatly, but his eyes were shining.

“As it should.” I joked, before turning towards Niall.

The hug lasted maybe three seconds, tops, just a quick meeting of bodies and appreciative waist squeezing, but I was still kind of thinking about it when I moved on to hug Niall.

“What was the brilliant plan that Harry shot down?” Louis asked after I finished hugging him, eyes darting from my face to Harry’s, who was twisting his arm behind his back in a stretch.

“I asked him to twerk.” I shrugged. “He refused.”

“I have boundaries, okay.” Harry replied. “And that’s one of them. Ask me again when I'm drunk and we'll see.”

“Whatever, party pooper.” I sent him a smile to let him know that I was kidding (and I was, kind of) and then I actively forced myself to look away from him, let my eyes wander to the rest of the set and everyone else in the room, meandering around antsily as One Direction prepared to leave.

“Thank you guys so much again.” I reiterated minutes later as they all prepared to leave, pictures taken, pleasantries administered, and jackets now donned. “It was a blast.”

“It was a good time, Ezra.” Louis smiled as he adjusted his sunglasses on his face. “You’re a laugh.”

“If you think that was good, you should see me when I haven’t been awake since the crack of dawn.” I joked, bringing my fingers up to rub my tired eyes. As soon as I pulled my fingers away, I saw the smudge of mascara and eyeliner and groaned.

The cars they had been waiting for pulled up then and they immediately started filing out, each boy flanked by security guards on either side. They all waved as they departed, Liam even promising to look me up on Twitter, and then they were gone.

The door shut behind the last security guard and I grabbed for a baby wipe on top of the counter, ready to wipe away the heavy foundation caked over my cheeks. We had a good interview, perhaps even a great one, and already I could hear Damien and Alfie talking about how the number of subscribers was rising. In the course of a day, I’d suffered through a chemistry lesson, got lost on the Tube, met One Direction, embarrassed myself in front of almost a million people, and asked Harry Styles to twerk. I had a handful of new stories to tell, a picture with five lads and Alfie that would probably be my phone background for the next month, and a feeling of accomplishment in my bones.

I’d gotten through another interview with Tongue in Cheek TV, probably the most important interview yet, and suddenly London didn’t feel as strange and lonely as it had previously. I was onto my second baby wipe and listening to ZZ gush about how adorable Niall looked when he was gushing about Nandos when I finally unearthed my phone from my bag, turning it on with one hand as I scrubbed at my face with the other.

“Why do you have to put so much on my face?” I whined to ZZ, who momentarily stopped her Niall-loving to give me a flat look.

“Because no one’s perfect.” She said, before launching back into her blonde appreciation spiel. “Except maybe that Irish boy.”

I rolled my eyes at her as my phone came back to life, already opening a few texts from people congratulating me on a job well done with the live stream.

One Direction had left and that was it. Or that was supposed to be it. I was still faintly thinking about Harry and the way he sipped his coffee and said my name, but I was chalking it up to celebrity infatuation and preparing to move on. So I’d stalk his Twitter a little bit tonight and probably like every screen shot of this live stream on Tumblr, but tomorrow I’d wake up and record another video and go to class and everything would be back to normal.

That was it.

Except it wasn’t. I sincerely thought that today would be both the beginning and the end of whatever relationship I had with Harry Styles, but apparently that was just the beginning of my being incredibly and stupidly ignorant to whatever impact Harry was going to have on my life.