The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

6.

"I was starting to think you bailed on me," Skylar's voice greeted me as soon as I stepped into the studio. I was out of breath - clearly, I was in a hurry.

"Sorry, traffic was rough today. As always - the road workers drowning in unexpected snow," I explained with a small grin.

"Next time, try walking," she didn't look impressed, but that was probably just Skylar's default setting - permanently unimpressed.

I frowned. Terrible suggestion. "But it's cold," I said in the most pitiful voice, like I was begging for mercy. She just sat there expressionless, like she couldn't be bothered. "What if I catch a cold and my voice sounds like a malfunctioning walkie-talkie?"

She sighed, clearly relaxing a little. I watched as she turned on the synthesizer and adjusted the volume. "Did you go over your parts at home? We need to make sure your harmonies actually match when I sing."

I nodded. If sometimes I was lazy with guitar practice, I took singing a bit more seriously - even though it's not my main thing.

"You're singing too quietly again," she said after a while. I stared at her. Isn't backing vocals supposed to be quiet?

"My voice sounds weird through the mic," I pulled out my phone again to check how backing vocals sounded on the original song. It just didn't sound quite right.

My eyes caught a new video on YouTube. Why did I get recommended Harry content? And 50k likes in five minutes? For what? A close-up of him breathing and smiling?

I swallowed hard, standing up. Sitting still wasn't helping me, so I started pacing to get the blood flowing. Skylar didn't seem to mind my sudden mood shift; she was still trying to find the right chords on the piano.

"Your voice is fine. You could totally sing more solos. I think the girls would like it."

I shook my head. "I doubt it. Girls like, you know... Lads with curly hair who probably use too much hair product."

Skylar glanced at me curiously, trying to decode the reference. I could tell she had a feeling there was more in my mind than just our rehearsal.

"Never mind," I quickly mumbled when I realized she was waiting for me to elaborate.

"Wait, hold on - what's with the sudden dip in confidence? A month ago, you'd purposely turn up the mic so it'd catch feedback, and the guys would laugh. Now you're afraid to sing?" she looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but there was a hint of concern there.

"I don't know, it's fun with you guys," I shrugged. "But think about it - how many bands out there are doing the same covers we are? Why would anyone want to listen to ours?" I let my doubt slip out. Honestly, we didn't stand out much; it was one of those cases where playing was way more fun than listening.

"Well, I think Jake and Derek would be thrilled if we stopped doing covers and started creating something of our own," she thought, "But as far as I know, none of us can write songs," she laughed.

"True," I agreed. I remember when Jake showed me his 'poem' in eleventh grade, so proud of it. It went something like: Roses are red, you're looking real fine,/ Maybe tonight we could cross the line? I had to convince him for ages that girls weren't going to be impressed by that and his plan wasn't going to work. But hey, at least he tried.

"What about you? Have you ever tried to write something?" Skylar's voice brought me back from my memory.

"The only thing I write is grocery lists. And bad jokes," I laughed. I'd probably die of embarrassment if anyone found my lyric notebook.

"Yeah, I can agree with the last one," she teased, and I opened my mouth in mock offense.

I kept pacing around the studio, trying to figure out where to sit. Then I noticed a tambourine lying by the guitar cube. I hadn't noticed it before.