Our Moments (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter Two: Kaitlynn Marshall

It began with a melody. Four chords opening the song stuck in my head for days. It was popular, especially among people my own age, but apparently these middle-aged poets wanted nothing to do with the 'etiquette' strumming coming from my very own fingers. My heart pounded a bit, nervous as to what the man behind the counter, some would call him my boss, was going to do.

I took a sideways glance toward him, hands beginning to shake and making it nearly impossible to finish up the song. I could see him shaking his head disapprovingly, shaggy hair falling in his face. I was used to this though so it didn't bug me. It was the grumbling of the crowd that did it though.

They were all glaring, some doing some last minute touches to their all equally depressing poems, sneaking these glares from underneath their glasses, or just reading the old stuff, like Edgar Allen Poe, one of the only poets I actually recognized. The others were just jumbled names, floating in and out of my mind in an instant.

I came to a stop as Stanley finally came forward, gray eyes narrowed into slits. "That's enough Kaitlynn. Please."

I nodded, my head lowering to my feet, ashamed. I slowly hopped off of the stool lyrics circling my head.

"Shut the door, turn the light off. I wanna be with you. I wanna feel your love. I wanna lay beside you. I can not hide this even though I try." Moments was so sad, and the one of many songs in which I knew how to play by One Direction. I t was even cooler, in my opinion, that Ed Sheeran wrote it.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and setting my guitar in the case, knowing I was done for the night. I was most likely going to lose some of the pay, like always, and have to double up shifts at Nandos, waiting on table after table, the endless aroma of Perri-Perri Chicken reaching my nostrils and almost making me gag at the thought of eating it yet again. That was what I had to manage through though, as long as I wanted somewhere to stay and to keep my flat, right smack dab in the middle of London. My parents paid for half, but the rest was up to me and if I failed to pay my share, the flat was being rented out by someone else and I got myself a one way ticket back to New York.

I closed my eyes, feeling myself going into complete and total panic mode. Just breathe. One breath in, one breath out. I had to keep myself under control or else I would begin shaking uncontrollably, like always while under any sort of attention from people. That wad probably the reason why my playing skills were absolute shit.

I leaned back against the counter, hands absentmindedly reaching into my pocket for the necklace I couldn't bring myself to wear, even if it had be months since my grandmum's funeral.

I was thinking to myself all of those things when suddenly I heard the reading of a dreary poem. I rolled my eyes crossing my arms over my chest again, still unable to bring myself to wear the beautiful flower pendant Grandmum had held so close to her heart. Stanley walked up behind me, leaning against the counter.

"Kaity, I'm sorry. But you can't play that kind of music. Especially with these poets. They like the classical shit."

I nodded, drumming my fingers against the counter. "I understand. It won't happen again."

"I know it won't. I'm sorry, Kaity but this is something I have to do. I'm letting you go." I nodded again, slower this time. The nausea in my stomach came and I knew I was leaving. I had to go back to New York.

"It's nothing personal. Just business."

"Just business," I repeated, staring down at my hands.

"You're an amazing musician but it's just not working..."

I closed my case slowly, locking it. My eyes were filling with tears as I attempted to take slow breaths. I drowned him out, pushing my way to the door, gripping the handle of my car way too tightly. It swung open and I shoved my guitar in the backseat slamming the door loudly.

"Erm, excuse me? Ma'am? "

I turned to see a man wearing a big trench coat. He smiled underneath his bowler hat. He had a thick Irish accent, something abnormal to me.

"Yeah?" I said, attempting to hide the anger in my voice. Of course it came out as a snap. I took a deep breath attempting to calm down. "Sorry. Just a little stressed."

"It's fine. Look, I was in there when you playing, getting a drink and I heard you playing. Instantly, me mind was rushing with thoughts, and I knew I needed you. You're an amazing player and the guitarist for the band I manage quit. I was hoping you could try to play with us."

I thought about it for a minute and instantly knew I needed the money. I slowly nodded. "Of course. I'm Kaitlynn."

"I'm Paul."