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March 29, 2016
"Sienna Grace Rowland, I need you to give me something to work with here." Luke groans while I halfheartedly play 'chopsticks' on the piano, avoiding responsibility. If I didn't want to write a song, I shouldn't have come to work. I'm just wasting both of our time.
"I know Luke, but the only thing running through my goddamn mind these days is that day." I groan out in frustration. "None of my songs make any sense and I keep writing the same words over and over. I'm so lame." I whine.
"Then screw it, Sise." He shrugs. "It's not that hard. Just write about 'that' day and move the fuck on. There's no need to mope about it anymore."
He's right, I could just be a normal songwriter and write about that one time I slept with Harry Styles, but that gets a little complicated when we work in the same building and my brother is his newest colleague. I know I'm making it much harder than it needs to be, I mean according to Mitch he's already written at least two songs supposedly about me.
And now I'm overly conscious that the previously mentioned British man is in the room directly to my right. I know this because I saw him in the lobby looking damn good with his long curly hair and tanned skin when I got here this morning.
But Luke is right. I've gotta get it out of my system at some point. And in less than a week I'll be on a flight out of the country for the next month or so. Now's as good a time as ever.
"Fine." I huff. "It's now or never I guess. Can't put it off forever."
"That's the spirit." Luke grins, high-fiving me. "But don't make it too raunchy. Keep in mind your writing about a man who is literally right next door to us at this very moment."
"Great. Now I'm in my head. Thanks a lot." I roll my eyes. "And I wasn't going to sing about the sex. I'm still putting that off as long as I can."
"I'll get it out of you one day." Luke shrugs. "Now guitar? Piano? What are we thinking?" He asks.
"Mmm, guitar." I hum. "Acoustic. And I'm going to play it."
Luke raises his eyebrows, "You never play unless you have to."
"Yeah well my brother's about to be a world known guitarist. I have to improve at least a little bit before then." I retort. I'm joking...mostly.
I start plucking away, and I know it sounds awful, but I'm determined.
Luke looks amused, "Try switching the key." He suggests.
