Louis: "I freaking hate my hair," you groan, running the flat iron over another strand. "I freaking love your hair," Louis replies, looking up from his phone. "Well you're not the one who has to straighten your hair like everyday!" you retort, nearly burning your hand. "It doesn't look THAT difficult," Louis shrugs. "I bet I could straighten your hair perfectly in five minutes flat." You roll your eyes and hold out the still-hot flat iron out to him. "Try it." He takes the flat iron and straightens a strand of your hair. "Oooh, this is fun," he laughs, straightening another piece. "It's really not fun," you sigh, smiling slightly at his amusement. "Fuck!" he shouts, jumping back and clutching his hand. "Burnt yourself?" you bite back a laugh and get him some ice. "Fine. Maybe it's not THAT easy," Louis admits, pressing the ice over his fingers. "You should just leave your hair au naturale, it looks nice."
Harry: "How did you even learn how to juggle?" you muse, watching your curly-haired boyfriend as he juggles three apples in his hands. "I used to work in the circus," he replies. "Did you really?" He shakes his head and laughs. "No, no. My sister's boyfriend taught me." You stick out your tongue and he stops juggling, grabbing another apple from the counter. "Bet I can juggle FOUR apples," he tells you, raising an eyebrow. You watch him in amusement as he attempts to juggle four, only to have all four of them drop to the ground in nearly ten seconds flat. "Um, nevermind." You laugh as he picks up the four apples and roll your eyes. "Oi, I'm just impressed you can juggle three, let alone four."
Liam: "How much do you bench?" you ask, watching Liam lift weights. "Dunno, I've never really checked before," Liam shrugs, lifting a weight and examining it. "Probably lots." You tie your hair in a ponytail and watch his arms with admiration. "You're so strong," you comment. He blushes slightly and shrugs. "Thanks." He reaches over and grabs a larger weight to lift in an attempt to impress you, but the weight is far too heavy and he can barely lift it off the ground. "I'm already impressed, no need to hurt yourself," you joke, kissing his cheek. "Psh, I wasn't trying to impress you...I was just..." he mumbles with a faint smile. "Just trying to show off your muscles?" you tease. "Well, yeah," he replies sheepishly, wrapping you in a hug.
Niall: "Bet I can eat four slices of pizza," Niall comments, eying the cheesey pie sitting on the table. "No way! I bet you can only eat three, tops," you counter, taking a bite of a slice and wiping your mouth with a napkin. "Let's make this bet official," he offers, grabbing a pen and scribbling on a napkin, then signing it and handing it to you. You read the napkin and laugh at what he's written 'This is a contract and if Niall eats four slices of pizza, (Y/N) will call him Prince Niall the Sexy for the rest of the day and if he doesn't, he will call her Princess (Y/N) the Sexy forever' and below is his signature. "Sign it, let's make this official," he quips, handing you the pen. You sign your name with flourish, then laugh as he makes it to three and a half slices before giving up. "Fine! You win, Princess (Y/N) the Sexy," he admits defeat and sticks out his tongue. "That's right," you reply, grabbing another slice from the box. "I always win."
Zayn: "I bet I can jump over that table," Zayn points towards a large snack table sitting backstage and raises an eyebrow. "No way," you counter, rolling your eyes. "Yes, way! I'm an amazing jumper," he protests, eying the table. "Nuh-uh, you can't jump as high as Niall!" you retort. "I know, but Niall jumps un-naturally high, it's wierd." You nod. "True. Fine, try and jump the table but if you break it it'd be a terrible cliche." He laughs and makes his way closer to the table, runs and then jumps, landing right in the center of the table, causing it's legs to give out. "Whoops," he laughs, starting to get up. But not before you snap a photo of it to post on twitter with the caption '@zaynmalik playing up the stereotypes #tablebreaking"
