I finally moved to London. I had been dreaming of living there ever since I was little in hope of starting a new life. I had a job as a make-up artist for multiple famous persons. Make-up had always been a passion of mine ever since I was a teenager, and it didn’t result in me having friends. I had the best look in all of my school in America. It created jealousy in my used-to-be-friends turning me into an outsider. None of the boys fancied me because they thought I only looked good because of the make-up.

It was my first day working for some boy band who was doing a music video in London for their new single. I hurried over to where they were going to start the shoot, but they were going to be on  a bus most of the shoot making it a traveling one. Great.  I only had 15 minutes with each boy, so I prayed to God that they would be done in time. I went through each one and did a good job at it too. The last one took forever though. He triple-checked everything I was doing it right which I was. At the end I figured out his name was Zayn. And Zayn always did this. At the end I told him, “You are fine pretty boy.” He replied, “Pretty boy? Ha, I have never heard that one before.” He kept murmuring pretty boy to himself before he left. I soon boarded the bus and set up my touch up station for the boys in between shoots.

The day was crazy and I was excited to go home and take a long bath over the day. First, every chance Pretty Boy could fix his make-up or hair he was. I think I touched him up like fifty times today. Second, a boy named Niall ate something extremely sloppy making me have to redo all of his make-up again. Finally, I practically got mobed by the boy’s fans while trying to get off the bus. Pretty boy exited the bus to try and help me out. Luckily security saved me before he did. I yelled to him once I started to walk away, “Trying to be Superman and Pretty Boy all at once now?” He just laughed and yelled back, “What is your name? I need you to come back!” “I’m Taylor. Come over here I am tired.” Pretty Boy ran over and asked, “Can I have your number?” I had just realized he always stared at me while I was doing touch-ups. Did he fancy me? A lowly make-up artist? He couldn’t  so I replied “No.”

I walked all the way home and drew a bath. It was so nice to relax after the long day. After I got out I heard knocking on the door. I tried to get some clothes on yelling, “Im coming! Im coming!” As I ran across my flat to the door with my hair still wet I opened the door to see an unexpected face. Pretty Boy was standing there. I couldn’t believe he followed me to my flat. He spoke up and said, “I heard you saying you were going to take a bath so I just waited about an hour, I have great guessing skills.” “Oh, so you’re a genius and superman. Anything else Pretty Boy?” “I am great in bed.” He said and winked at me then said, “I’m Zayn, and I still want that number and I know where you live so you can’t say no.” He just smiled at me cheekily as I wrote down my number on a pad of paper.