Fangirl

Excuse Me?

"Oh my gosh! It's Simon Cowell!"

My heart hammering inside my chest loudly, and adrenaline starting to pump into my veins, my eyes frantically searched for a sign of the person who yelled that.

My eyes were probably glimmering with hope and I don't even know what I was hoping to achieve if I do see Simon. Get signed maybe?

I looked around but I only saw british people wearing business suits and I tried to tip toe but I was still short. I groaned, where is he?!

"Simon!" The same person screamed and I whirled around to my right just to see 3 men dressed in coats and carrying a camera, run off.

Are those.... Paparazzis?

I gasped as I dragged my suitcases to the side and covered it with a conviniently big, dirty blanket on the side.

I quickly ran to the direction I figured where the paparazzis ran while silently hoping that my suitcases don't get stolen. Maybe I shouldn't have left it there. Nah, it's too late to go back, Simon Cowell is near.

I ran, pushing and shoving people out of the way as I struggled to catch up with the tall, long-legged, paparazzis. I've only been in England for two days and I've already excercised here more than I've had back in America for the past 4 years.

"Wait, wait!" I called out at the paparazzis as I continued to push people out of the way while my already sore legs ran as fast they could.

Sweat starting to fall freely, even if it's cold out, I breathed deeply as I continued to follow them.

And after about an eternity, the people finally started to lessen and we were crossing the street to a building that said at the top, 'Syco Records'. (Quick author's note I just made that place up... I don't know shit I swEAR)

Holy mother of cheeseballs. If One Direction was a religion, Syco Records would be Jerusalem or The Promise Land or something.

I openly gaped at the building as I collapsed on the floor, while I breathed heavily. Ahh, some rest, my legs yelled happily.

I looked around and saw a big crowd of people at the entrance, crowding over a very expensive looking car and I let out a low whistle, that is one fine car.

I started to stand up even if my legs complained and I jogged over to the crowd. Paparazzis were flashing their cameras everywhere as everywhere around me, people were speaking.

"Hey Simon!"

"Simon!"

"Mr.Cowell!"

"May I have a word?"

"I have a question!"

I groaned as somebody managed to push me on the ground and nobody even helped me up, bastards.

I stood up and saw Simon Cowell wearing a simple white shirt and jeans with shades on looking perf.

My breath hitched cause I can't believe he was actually here. I even pinched myself to see if this was all real. Ouch! Omg it is real!

He looked even more intimidating up close, he was the Chef Gordon Ramsay of the music industry, I swear. I held my breath as I stared at the man while being swayed by the big ass crowd of paparazzis.

He was actually here.

Well I've been shucked and gone to Heaven. Wait a second, I have to see if my soul is still here.

But I was snapped back into reality once I noticed Simon wasn't stopping for questions and rudely ignoring the people as he made his way to the entrance of the building.