Finding My Muse - Nicholas Galitzine

Chapter One: Hearing Him

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--Esmerelda's POV--

I strum the last chord of the song I'm working on as I stare at the journal in front of me. I reach for my pen to make an adjustment as the practice room door swings open, "YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I JUST RAN INTO," Kylie yells running in with her bag hanging loosely around her neck. I stare up at her through my eyelashes, dropping my pen back down.

"What hot guy did you see today?" I ask making her scoff before sitting down. She catches her breath for a minute as I pack away my guitar. The time is running up and by the time she gets to the point, it will be someone else's turn.

"A British man. I met a British man," She says surprising me. Normally she runs into men with southern draws who moved to New York for a change of pace, "His name is Harry and I think I might be in love," she adds.

"Woah, love is a bit quick. Tell me about Harry," I request as I grab the handle of my case. She starts giggling like a madman before opening the door for me.

"NO, you don't understand. Basically what happened was," She says turning around and using very enthusiastic hand movements, "I was walking out of the coffee shop and I was going over my paper. You know the one that was due like two weeks ago. So I wasn't paying attention and I ran into him. Coffee spilled EVERYWHERE. It was terrible and also burning hot. The one day I don't get iced coffee," She says with a small laugh.

"Girl, breathe," I tell her as she smiles wildly.

"Basically, he apologized even though it was one hundred percent my fault. But then we got to talking and he asked me out on a date," She says making my eyes pop out of my head.

"You're the only girl I know that could spill boiling coffee on a guy and still get a date, " I laugh as she shows off the stains on her jacket, "When is the date?" I ask as we walk outside of the practice hall. The cold air hits us in the face as we start our short walk to the apartment building. Fresh snow lays on the ground in piles that were freshly plowed. I slip a little on a patch of black ice making us both lose it as we stop.

"The date is tomorrow night. One small thing. It's a double date and you are coming with me," She says making me stop moving again. She turns back to look at me with a mischievous smile, "It will be good for you. The last date you went on was in like third grade," She says making me scoff.

"Third grade? It was two years ago, thank you very much," I sass.

"Yeah like that's any better," She bites back, "You're going and I don't care what you say," She tells me. I nod my head knowing there is no way I could get out of this. She uses her key and lets us into the building as she tells me more about this British man named Harry. He sounds like a decent guy from the twenty or so minutes she talked to him.

"Oh, before I forget. I have the practice room scheduled for tomorrow. What time's the date?" I ask as we walk inside, kicking our shoes off.

"Around seven"

"I should be done by then. How fancy is this date?" I ask wanting to know if I have to try to look really nice or if we are just going to some house party.

"I guess in between trying and not trying too hard," She says as if that helps at all. I carry my guitar case into my bedroom and set it down beside my desk. Sheet music is thrown about from last night when I was trying to write my final piece of the year. The worst time of the year in my opinion. She stands at my door and looks at me suspiciously.

"How was your day?" she asks with a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in her hands. I lean back in my chair as I straighten out the work in front of me. She tilts her head as I stay quiet, "I know nothing can beat my hot man of the day but it couldn't have been too bad," she says.

"It wasn't terrible," I offer up as she frowns.

"Come on, we talked about this. You have to talk to at least one other person a day. I can't be the only person enriching your life with my pleasant banter," She says making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, mom. Music is all I need. What's the point of making friends when this school is all about competition? If I make friends then I'll feel guilty and let other people take the opportunities I deserve," I tell her as she nods her head. She gives me the same speech almost every day, so I give her the same answer. It's a nice little tradition we have going on.

"Can you at least promise not to stay up until four a.m. working on your song?" She asks. I give her a fake promise before she shuts the door and leaves me with my thoughts. I bring my pen up to my lips, chewing on the cap. I can hear her locking up the apartment before everything goes silent. I wait another twenty minutes before grabbing a sweatshirt from my closet. I throw on the fluffy article of clothing before slowly opening my door. I step on the right areas of the floor that don't creak as I make my way to the door. I slide the door open before slipping out with my guitar and house key. I walk to the elevator before taking it to the top floor. Then I walk to the other side of the hall where the access to the roof is. When I open it up flurries brush past my face as they freshly fall from the sky. The heat of my breath shows how cold it truly is.

I sit on the lower ledge where I can lean my back and not fall off. When I take my guitar out I stare at the city line in front of me. Cars honk from the street below as vendors try and sell whatever they are selling that day. I lean fully back and rest my head on the edge, my hair dangling down. I don't even realize someone's singing until their voice becomes louder. I turn my body and look down seeing a light coming from the floor below me.

It's a man, can't be much older than I am. An acoustic guitar compliments the vocals as they sloppily strum to a tune that must be original. Who is this man?