FBI Love You (JJ Maybank)

Feet Rooted In Earth

"I don't know about this, Zayn," I said through my device.

I was regretting my decision because I couldn't find the motivation in me to get ready and go meet new people after the day I had had.

"Tell them I'm not coming. Please."

"No, Evie. You're coming. I've already told the boys."

"But-"

"There isn't one," he interrupted me. "Listen to me. You're going to be fine and I promise they will love you. So don't wear anything fancy or dress up because we won't be. Okay? Say, 'yes Zayn, I trust you'."

This man and his words had me controlled. I simply couldn't say no to my best friend. I never have.

"Yes Zayn, I trust you," I sighed. "When will you be here?"

"Two minutes."

"Two minutes? Zayn, I thought you knew this by now! I need time to get ready," I whined.

"You're time is 120 seconds. That's good enough."

"No it's not!" I shrieked.

"One minute!"

Clicking the red button ended the call and I ran upstairs to change. I didn't bother changing my jeans, but I switched the ugly, grey sweater for a black top. When I heard the doorbell ring throughout the household, I speed walked into my bathroom and grabbed a brush and a hair-tie before jogging downstairs at a dangerous rate.

I opened the front door in a huff, disappointed he had only given me two minutes to get ready.

As we walked to the car I couldn't help but whine and laugh about our not-too-long-ago moment.

"Zayn, a girl needs at least an hour heads notice," I informed him. "This must be why you don't have a girlfriend."

"That's low, Evie. Even for you," he chuckled, starting the engine.

I pulled down the mirror that also blocks your gaze into the sun and used it to attempt a messy bun as he pulled out of the driveway to my house.

"Ready to meet the boys?"

"Nope."

"You have nothing to worry about. Did you put on deodorant?"

My lip quivered. Now he was worrying me.

"Yes. I always do. Why, do I smell?"

"No. Just messing with you," he laughed.

"Zayn! I hate you so much."

"Sure. We can call it hate if it makes you feel better."

I gasped at his quick and remarkably smart response.

"You dirt bag," I laughed.

The rest of the drive we attempted karaoke. I swear on my life that Zayn could actually sing and make a career using his voice, but he only waved me off. I was definitely not a singer and I could have sworn I sounded like a dying crow.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

We arrived and my chest sank at the sight of the house. They were inside probably just chilling and peacefully waiting while I'm here in a car sweating to death due to my nerves.

"Ready?" Zayn asked me before opening his door.

I gulped and placed my shaking hand on the door handle.

"Nope."

"Good."

It felt like in a flash we were already at the front door and before Zayn knocked, I used my arm to wipe the sweat off my forehead. I was already exhausted and I hadn't even stepped inside. But then Zayn did and motioned for me to now do the same. I obeyed and stepped through the doorway before beginning to play with my hands. I guess Zayn noticed before he put a hand over my shaking ones and lowered them to my sides.

"Don't do that. You look like a five-year-old when you do that," he whispered.

I nodded. Note to self: don't play with your hands when nervous.

We walked through the kitchen and into a living room. While Zayn walked like he owned the place (which he did) I walked like a lost puppy behind him while staring at my shoes.

"Hey guys! This is my partner in crime, Evie. Evie, this is Harry, Niall, Liam, and Louis."

And knowing I probably looked like an idiot with my head down, I forced myself to look up at the boys sitting on the beige couches. I didn't watch when Zayn introduced me to them, so I knew their names and everyone's faces but not which ones matched. I couldn't even guess as I gazed upon the boys. They seemed like they could be rock stars or YouTubers. But no, they were just Zayn's friends.

"Hi." I slightly waved, receiving a wave back from the blonde and another with brunette, long hair.

"Hey." The blonde stood and walked over. He was tall and seemed nice, and had a Irish accent. I smiled and suddenly felt like this wouldn't be bad after all. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure. Just water. Please."

"No problem, Evie," he said before briskly walking past me. And as he did so he whispered, "I know you weren't listening. I'm Niall." And walked away.

And it made me blush with embarrassment. He knew, which meant only one other thing. Did the other guys know I didn't know their names, too?

As I stood awkwardly in the arched doorway, the long-haired brunette spoke in a British accent.

"We've heard a lot about you, Evie. A lot. Zayn over here doesn't stop talking about you."

This caused everyone in the room to laugh and although I didn't find it funny, I chuckled along.

"Shut up, Harry," Zayn quickly shot back, yet in a friendly matter.

Note to self: Harry. Harry and Niall.

Harry gestured to a seat across from him and the seat next to Zayn. "Sit."

I obeyed, still nervous. And once I sat I lay my hands in my lap a second before Niall came out with two glasses of water and handed one to me. I whispered a 'thank you' due to the fact that I was still nervous to speak.

"Evie," one of the boys in a chair smiled. He had sleeves of tattoos of all different sizes. A lot of them looked almost pointless to have. "We heard about what happened to you at work today. That's tough, isn't it?"

I gulped. Zayn told them?

My breath hitched and I looked at Zayn. "You told them?"

He shrugged. "They're my best friends. They won't tell anyone."

"Yeah, we won't tell," the same boy reassured before Harry said the exact same thing.

"Evie, what do you like to do? What are your hobbies?" Another boy asked me.

"I'd rather not talk about myself," I clarified. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Why not?" The tatted boy from before spoke quickly.

"Louis, don't be rude," Harry spat. "She doesn't want to talk about herself. Leave the girl alone."

"Sorry, sorry."

"It's okay," I said.

Louis. That meant the other boy was Liam, the boy who wanted to know my hobbies.

Maybe this night wasn't going to be bad at all. Maybe it was going to be exactly what I needed. At least that's what I thought until 11 o'clock at night when I saw a spider. A big spider. A spider the size of my palm. And all I could do was faint. Good job, Evie Morris. Good first impression.