Error. [H.S.]

8.

Flecks of crystalline snow whitewashed the city, masking the pavement of any imperfections with a blanket of ongoing beauty. The crisp chilly air burned against my warm cheeks with a soft gust, flakes melting into my skin - the true kiss of winter. Coordinated steps escorted me behind the rest of the team towards the extravagant entrance, a black Escalade parked at the foot of the carpeted stairs just past the canopy adorned with the hotel's crest. The patter of the rain had shifted into a stunning silence, tumbling crystals of white snow blanketing the pavement with the alluring beauty. Tires packed the snow in shape of the tread, the familiar crunch adding another melody through the city.

The drive passed without many complaints or arguments; Liam and Harry actually found common ground in a discussion about a sports team from the UK, while the rest of us quietly admired the snowfall. Fifteen minutes later, Liam parked the car in the backlot of a rundown office building turned recording studio. While no actually recording would be going on, it gave the guys an opportunity to rehearse in a secure and controlled environment.

"We're behind schedule already, come in, come in!" A frantic voice rushed us through the back door, piling us into a stairwell. Beck took position at the bottom of the staircase, monitoring the entrance we came through as a precautionary measure. From her explanation, Harry's security team had the front of the building covered, so the building was secured.

"Well fuck, you should've learned to control the weather." Harry shrugged, leading the way up the staircase, heavy steps clanking against the cement staircase.

"That's about the only thing I haven't done for you, Styles." The jittery man responded, who I assumed was his manager, Joel. Judging by his body language and business casual attire, caffeine was truly the only thing holding his man together from a nervous breakdown.

Thank god I didn't get assigned his job.

His baby blue polo was tailored to fit his toned, but not muscular physique, dark blue slacks  perfect contrast. Black ink contrasted his blue ensemble, each tattoo fitting into a very specific aesthetic, depicting a very dark spin on Alice and Wonderland. In his hand, he fumbled with a midsize iPad, case strapped to his hand. A color coordinated excel spreadsheet lit up the screen with what I assumed was Harry's schedule for the day.

Judging by his appearance, I couldn't form any immediate opinion of him. His litter of tattoos interpreted that he may resemble Harry's rocker-core attitude, but the contrast of his pastel polo made me assume his persona may be more fluid that what could be confined in a single category.

"Damn straight." Harry's large hands shoved the push pad on the door at the end of the staircase, sending the door flying open. Melodic strums of an acoustic guitar flooded into the quaint rehearsal studio, a lulling preview of what the day had in store.

The calming sound welcomed us all into the quaint space, two couches pressed against each wall behind the sound booth. Neon signs with motivational quotes added a colorful florescent hue to the room, and a heavy scent of lavender essential oil was diffusing out of a small lit up trinket in the corner. Having never been in a recording studio before, this was almost the opposite of my expectations.

Louis and Liam took a seat on the center couch, Niall propped on the arm rest besides Liam, while I took residency on the opposing sofa. Harry voided the conversation, trotting into the sound booth to greet the man playing the guitar.

"Alrighty, let's get started, shall we?" With the iPad held snug between his left arm and chest, the man clasped his hands together as he mirrored us, smile masking his obvious nerves. "I'm Joel, Harry's manager, and until we resolve this nonsense, I'll be managing the three of you as well." His perky American accent came as a surprise to me, especially after Harry had confirmed his old bandmates were all English.