Open Your Eyes
Chapter 1
Scarlett’s POV
“Yes, Niall, it would be a bad idea to yell quite loudly!” I heard the voice—male, with a very distinct Worcestershire accent—from behind me. Whoever had spoken had hissed all but the last three words, shouting them so that they echoed around the parking lot and, I was sure, the hills that surrounded us, too.
“Harry, shut up!” I heard another voice, this one with a thick Irish accent, speaking much quieter, almost low enough that I couldn’t hear. We were at a truck stop, and I had been making my way to the main building to go to the loo and buy some water when I had heard a few lads behind me.
“We certainly wouldn’t want to draw attention to ourselves!” A third voice yelled, this one with a Yorkshire accent, different from the other two. I heard the Irish one swear at him and the first one mumble, “Nice job, Lou!” before the sound of skin slapping together. I assumed that the first one and the third one had high-fived each other.
Rather than give in and face the trio, I opted to walk faster. They couldn’t have made it more obvious that they wanted me to turn around, and I had zero desire to comply. The first and third ones, with the British accents, had sounded so cocky, as if they were used to girls doing what they asked. As my pace quickened, I heard the sound of feet pounding on pavement, and then the first voice, closer this time, perhaps three meters behind me. “We’re not trying to be too loud!”
I maintained my speed, and I heard the sounds of their feet steady. I could tell that they were very close behind me now, but I didn’t want to make it seem as if I was afraid of them, so I kept walking. Why can’t the bloody building be closer? I asked myself. It was almost a quarter of a kilometer away. I wanted desperately to glance behind me and make sure that the bus I needed to catch wasn’t there yet, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the boys behind me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time—ten to noon—and relaxed. The bus that I needed to catch would be leaving until one, so I had plenty of time to get a bite to eat in the building that was getting closer with every step.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It usually doesn’t take this long!” The first one whined, in what I assumed was his attempt at a whisper.
The third one snickered, and the Irish one shushed him. “Harry, don’t be such a wanker.”
I tried to suppress my giggles, but one slipped out. I could hear the smirk in the voice of the first one—who was, I gathered, named Harry. “Oh, so she can hear us.” He wasn’t yelling this time, just talking in a slightly louder than normal voice.
“Haz, if you care that much, run ahead and—” It was the third one speaking. He was cut off by Harry (aka Haz?), who, again, failed at whispering.
“Louis, shut up, mate.” I decided that the third one must be called Louis. I was still waiting on the name of the Irish one, the only one who seemed decent.
“Harry, just give it a rest.” That was the Irish one.
“Niall, she can hear you. Be quiet.”
Niall. So that was the name of the Irish one. It was quite a nice one, at that—I had known a Niall, the father of one of my friends at summer camp. The Niall I knew had also been Irish, but he must have been in his sixties by now, so it couldn’t have been him.
We finally reached the building, and I pulled open the door. It had a large central area, with tables and chairs, and a small food court surrounding it. There were loos to the left, but I didn’t really need to go at all, so I decided to get a table, buy a newspaper, get something to eat, and wait for my bus to come.
As I walked in, I let the door fall back on the trio. I heard one of them harrumph, and I quickly made my way to a table. I heard the three of them head over to the loos, and I relaxed. As soon as I heard the door to the men’s room close, I turned around.
I grabbed a newspaper and paid the man, thanking him. Walking back to my seat, I opened it up to find a picture of me. I smiled. I was a contestant on the X Factor, and I’d made my way all the way to the semifinals. It was November, but, as it was a particularly warm day, I had opted for shorts this morning. I was on my way to the studio now: I’d only been home for a couple days to visit my brothers.
I turned the page and found an article about the University of Oxford. I had been a student there, but when I went through in the show, I had to drop. I was only skipping the first semester, then I was right back to it. I was 18, and I’d already completed a year. I was studying biology, on a scholarship that I’d won from some benefactors in my hometown. They hadn’t been pleased with me skipping a semester, but I’d talked to a counselor, and as long as I worked hard enough, I would still be able to graduate on time.
I hadn’t thought about what I would do if I won. If I won the show, I would have a recording contract, which would mean that I wouldn’t have time to go to school. I didn’t like the idea of dropping out, but I didn’t really think that I had a chance of winning, so it didn’t really matter. It was a bridge I’d cross when—and if—I got there.
My train of thought was interrupted by a hand. This hand slowly pulled down my newspaper, revealing a face. An incredibly attractive, slightly familiar looking face, which was smirking down at me. As the hand kept pulling down my paper, it revealed two more faces.
I focused my attention on the first one. He had curly brown hair, that swooped over to his right, and green eyes that you could get lost in. His mouth was twisted into some sort of cheeky grin, like he knew something that I didn’t. “If you had just turned around, we could have avoided this.” He said as he sat down. It was the same voice from before, the first one, Harry.
I turned to look at the one on the left, who sat down next to Harry. He had brown hair that was styled up and blue eyes. He was grinning sheepishly, his gaze flitting between me, Harry, and the third one.
I faced him and suppressed a gasp. He was wearing a blue Yankees baseball cap, his blond hair flying out from under it, and his eyes were piercingly blue. He was possibly the most attractive person I’d ever seen (although his friends were very, very close behind). He was grimacing, but I noticed braces through the slight gap in his mouth, and he sat down as well. He spoke, and I realized that he was Niall, the Irish one. “I’m sorry about these two.”
“I’m Louis!” I looked over at Louis, who was grinning, perhaps encouraged by the fact that I hadn’t slapped them or stood up and walked away—which were both, in fact, urges that I’d suppressed due to their attractiveness.
“I’m Niall.” Niall grumbled. “Sorry, again.”
“I’m Harry.” Harry smirked, looking me right in the eye and raising his eyebrows a bit. He twiddled his thumbs over the table.
I debated what to do next. I could either introduce myself or get up and walk away. As much as I hated encounters with strangers, especially relatively rude ones, something about them made me stay. “Hi. I’m Scarlett Cross. What do you need?”
“Oh, nothing. But when you see an attractive girl sitting alone, it’s hard to ignore her.” I blushed a bit at Harry’s compliment. The smirk hadn’t left his face.
I looked over at Niall with a slight smile on my face and glanced over at Harry. He seemed to understand what I had meant—essentially “he’s quite full of himself”—and relaxed a bit. “Before you ask, Scarlett, no, he isn’t usually this cocky.” Niall spoke up, grinning at me.
Harry slapped his arm, and Louis laughed. “As much as I hate to miss an opportunity to poke fun at him, Niall’s right. Harry’s not usually this bad.”
I returned my gaze to Harry, who was blushing bright pink. He smiled, ditching the smirk. “Yeah, I suppose they’re right. I try to be smooth and these two just ruin it.” He shoved Louis’ shoulder.
Finding that I liked them quite a bit more than I had originally thought I would, I grasped for a way to continue the conversation. “So, what brings you here?”
We talked for about forty five minutes, which mostly involved me learning about what the three of them used to do—I couldn’t manage to find out what they did now—and about the various pranks they had played. I didn’t mention anything about X Factor, but I did tell them about university.
“I still don’t understand how you could choose to take biology. I hated that course.” Niall’s eyes twinkled.
I shrugged. “I like it quite a bit.” I turned my attention to Harry. “You look so familiar…” I trailed off. I had already mentioned twice in the conversation that I had recognized Harry, but I didn’t know from where. The first time I had, Harry had—shocker, this—smirked and Niall and Louis had exchanged glances.
It finally hit me as I sent a text to my friend Taylor. I dropped my phone, making it clatter on the table. “I remember! You’re in Ed Sheeran’s video for Drunk! That’s it! At least, I think that’s it. You look like him. You’re only in there for like, three seconds, but I’ve watched that video so many times. I swear it’s you.”
He laughed. “You’re right, it’s me.” Niall and Louis exchanged another glance.
I stretched and started to stand up. “I knew it! Anyways, I should probably get back to wait for my bus. It’s leaving at one which is in…ten minutes. It was nice meeting you three.”
The three of them stood up as well. Niall glanced at his watch. “Shit, Paul’s going to be pissed. We should probably get back too.”
The walked out with me, back towards the stop and where their car was parked. I walked with Niall behind Harry and Louis, who were talking about something that involved large hand motions. In a quiet voice, that I hoped the two of them couldn’t hear, I asked, “What’s the deal with the yelling on our way over?”
He laughed. “It’s what Harry does if he sees a girl that he thinks might be fit. He makes a lot of noise so that she’ll turn around and he can see if she actually is.”
“And?” I asked, my eyebrows raised.
“Oh, you want to know if you ‘actually are’? Well, I’d say definitely, and as for Harry, considering he whispered to me, ‘she’s fucking hot’, I would assume that he agrees with me.” He grinned and elbowed my side.
We finally reached the bus stop. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” I waved and turned to go. Louis and Niall said their goodbyes and started walking back into the parking lot, where I assumed their car was parked. Before I could, though, Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to grab dinner sometime? You mentioned that you were in London, and I’ll be there too, so you could come over.” He grinned cheekily.
It was my turn to smirk. I heard the bus pull up behind me, so I made it quick. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t think it would work out. Seriously, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to go.”
He frowned. “Look, I just think that you’re nice, and I want to see you again.”
“You’re nice too, but I’ve got to go. Bye!” Harry had been nice, it was true, but I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he was more of a ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em’ kind of guy. I knew that I’d been a bit rude, and as I boarded my bus, I regretted how harsh I’d been, but I decided not to dwell on it. I found a seat near the back and fell asleep thinking about the X Factor stage, performing on it, and the announcers calling my name.
“Yes, Niall, it would be a bad idea to yell quite loudly!” I heard the voice—male, with a very distinct Worcestershire accent—from behind me. Whoever had spoken had hissed all but the last three words, shouting them so that they echoed around the parking lot and, I was sure, the hills that surrounded us, too.
“Harry, shut up!” I heard another voice, this one with a thick Irish accent, speaking much quieter, almost low enough that I couldn’t hear. We were at a truck stop, and I had been making my way to the main building to go to the loo and buy some water when I had heard a few lads behind me.
“We certainly wouldn’t want to draw attention to ourselves!” A third voice yelled, this one with a Yorkshire accent, different from the other two. I heard the Irish one swear at him and the first one mumble, “Nice job, Lou!” before the sound of skin slapping together. I assumed that the first one and the third one had high-fived each other.
Rather than give in and face the trio, I opted to walk faster. They couldn’t have made it more obvious that they wanted me to turn around, and I had zero desire to comply. The first and third ones, with the British accents, had sounded so cocky, as if they were used to girls doing what they asked. As my pace quickened, I heard the sound of feet pounding on pavement, and then the first voice, closer this time, perhaps three meters behind me. “We’re not trying to be too loud!”
I maintained my speed, and I heard the sounds of their feet steady. I could tell that they were very close behind me now, but I didn’t want to make it seem as if I was afraid of them, so I kept walking. Why can’t the bloody building be closer? I asked myself. It was almost a quarter of a kilometer away. I wanted desperately to glance behind me and make sure that the bus I needed to catch wasn’t there yet, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the boys behind me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time—ten to noon—and relaxed. The bus that I needed to catch would be leaving until one, so I had plenty of time to get a bite to eat in the building that was getting closer with every step.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It usually doesn’t take this long!” The first one whined, in what I assumed was his attempt at a whisper.
The third one snickered, and the Irish one shushed him. “Harry, don’t be such a wanker.”
I tried to suppress my giggles, but one slipped out. I could hear the smirk in the voice of the first one—who was, I gathered, named Harry. “Oh, so she can hear us.” He wasn’t yelling this time, just talking in a slightly louder than normal voice.
“Haz, if you care that much, run ahead and—” It was the third one speaking. He was cut off by Harry (aka Haz?), who, again, failed at whispering.
“Louis, shut up, mate.” I decided that the third one must be called Louis. I was still waiting on the name of the Irish one, the only one who seemed decent.
“Harry, just give it a rest.” That was the Irish one.
“Niall, she can hear you. Be quiet.”
Niall. So that was the name of the Irish one. It was quite a nice one, at that—I had known a Niall, the father of one of my friends at summer camp. The Niall I knew had also been Irish, but he must have been in his sixties by now, so it couldn’t have been him.
We finally reached the building, and I pulled open the door. It had a large central area, with tables and chairs, and a small food court surrounding it. There were loos to the left, but I didn’t really need to go at all, so I decided to get a table, buy a newspaper, get something to eat, and wait for my bus to come.
As I walked in, I let the door fall back on the trio. I heard one of them harrumph, and I quickly made my way to a table. I heard the three of them head over to the loos, and I relaxed. As soon as I heard the door to the men’s room close, I turned around.
I grabbed a newspaper and paid the man, thanking him. Walking back to my seat, I opened it up to find a picture of me. I smiled. I was a contestant on the X Factor, and I’d made my way all the way to the semifinals. It was November, but, as it was a particularly warm day, I had opted for shorts this morning. I was on my way to the studio now: I’d only been home for a couple days to visit my brothers.
I turned the page and found an article about the University of Oxford. I had been a student there, but when I went through in the show, I had to drop. I was only skipping the first semester, then I was right back to it. I was 18, and I’d already completed a year. I was studying biology, on a scholarship that I’d won from some benefactors in my hometown. They hadn’t been pleased with me skipping a semester, but I’d talked to a counselor, and as long as I worked hard enough, I would still be able to graduate on time.
I hadn’t thought about what I would do if I won. If I won the show, I would have a recording contract, which would mean that I wouldn’t have time to go to school. I didn’t like the idea of dropping out, but I didn’t really think that I had a chance of winning, so it didn’t really matter. It was a bridge I’d cross when—and if—I got there.
My train of thought was interrupted by a hand. This hand slowly pulled down my newspaper, revealing a face. An incredibly attractive, slightly familiar looking face, which was smirking down at me. As the hand kept pulling down my paper, it revealed two more faces.
I focused my attention on the first one. He had curly brown hair, that swooped over to his right, and green eyes that you could get lost in. His mouth was twisted into some sort of cheeky grin, like he knew something that I didn’t. “If you had just turned around, we could have avoided this.” He said as he sat down. It was the same voice from before, the first one, Harry.
I turned to look at the one on the left, who sat down next to Harry. He had brown hair that was styled up and blue eyes. He was grinning sheepishly, his gaze flitting between me, Harry, and the third one.
I faced him and suppressed a gasp. He was wearing a blue Yankees baseball cap, his blond hair flying out from under it, and his eyes were piercingly blue. He was possibly the most attractive person I’d ever seen (although his friends were very, very close behind). He was grimacing, but I noticed braces through the slight gap in his mouth, and he sat down as well. He spoke, and I realized that he was Niall, the Irish one. “I’m sorry about these two.”
“I’m Louis!” I looked over at Louis, who was grinning, perhaps encouraged by the fact that I hadn’t slapped them or stood up and walked away—which were both, in fact, urges that I’d suppressed due to their attractiveness.
“I’m Niall.” Niall grumbled. “Sorry, again.”
“I’m Harry.” Harry smirked, looking me right in the eye and raising his eyebrows a bit. He twiddled his thumbs over the table.
I debated what to do next. I could either introduce myself or get up and walk away. As much as I hated encounters with strangers, especially relatively rude ones, something about them made me stay. “Hi. I’m Scarlett Cross. What do you need?”
“Oh, nothing. But when you see an attractive girl sitting alone, it’s hard to ignore her.” I blushed a bit at Harry’s compliment. The smirk hadn’t left his face.
I looked over at Niall with a slight smile on my face and glanced over at Harry. He seemed to understand what I had meant—essentially “he’s quite full of himself”—and relaxed a bit. “Before you ask, Scarlett, no, he isn’t usually this cocky.” Niall spoke up, grinning at me.
Harry slapped his arm, and Louis laughed. “As much as I hate to miss an opportunity to poke fun at him, Niall’s right. Harry’s not usually this bad.”
I returned my gaze to Harry, who was blushing bright pink. He smiled, ditching the smirk. “Yeah, I suppose they’re right. I try to be smooth and these two just ruin it.” He shoved Louis’ shoulder.
Finding that I liked them quite a bit more than I had originally thought I would, I grasped for a way to continue the conversation. “So, what brings you here?”
We talked for about forty five minutes, which mostly involved me learning about what the three of them used to do—I couldn’t manage to find out what they did now—and about the various pranks they had played. I didn’t mention anything about X Factor, but I did tell them about university.
“I still don’t understand how you could choose to take biology. I hated that course.” Niall’s eyes twinkled.
I shrugged. “I like it quite a bit.” I turned my attention to Harry. “You look so familiar…” I trailed off. I had already mentioned twice in the conversation that I had recognized Harry, but I didn’t know from where. The first time I had, Harry had—shocker, this—smirked and Niall and Louis had exchanged glances.
It finally hit me as I sent a text to my friend Taylor. I dropped my phone, making it clatter on the table. “I remember! You’re in Ed Sheeran’s video for Drunk! That’s it! At least, I think that’s it. You look like him. You’re only in there for like, three seconds, but I’ve watched that video so many times. I swear it’s you.”
He laughed. “You’re right, it’s me.” Niall and Louis exchanged another glance.
I stretched and started to stand up. “I knew it! Anyways, I should probably get back to wait for my bus. It’s leaving at one which is in…ten minutes. It was nice meeting you three.”
The three of them stood up as well. Niall glanced at his watch. “Shit, Paul’s going to be pissed. We should probably get back too.”
The walked out with me, back towards the stop and where their car was parked. I walked with Niall behind Harry and Louis, who were talking about something that involved large hand motions. In a quiet voice, that I hoped the two of them couldn’t hear, I asked, “What’s the deal with the yelling on our way over?”
He laughed. “It’s what Harry does if he sees a girl that he thinks might be fit. He makes a lot of noise so that she’ll turn around and he can see if she actually is.”
“And?” I asked, my eyebrows raised.
“Oh, you want to know if you ‘actually are’? Well, I’d say definitely, and as for Harry, considering he whispered to me, ‘she’s fucking hot’, I would assume that he agrees with me.” He grinned and elbowed my side.
We finally reached the bus stop. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” I waved and turned to go. Louis and Niall said their goodbyes and started walking back into the parking lot, where I assumed their car was parked. Before I could, though, Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to grab dinner sometime? You mentioned that you were in London, and I’ll be there too, so you could come over.” He grinned cheekily.
It was my turn to smirk. I heard the bus pull up behind me, so I made it quick. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t think it would work out. Seriously, it was nice meeting you, but I’ve got to go.”
He frowned. “Look, I just think that you’re nice, and I want to see you again.”
“You’re nice too, but I’ve got to go. Bye!” Harry had been nice, it was true, but I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he was more of a ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em’ kind of guy. I knew that I’d been a bit rude, and as I boarded my bus, I regretted how harsh I’d been, but I decided not to dwell on it. I found a seat near the back and fell asleep thinking about the X Factor stage, performing on it, and the announcers calling my name.
