Chords

Chapter Three

“You sure that sounded okay? I mean you don’t have to say it just because,” I spoke quietly still sitting on the piano bench. “Emma! Don’t doubt yourself. You were great. You could probably teach us all a few lessons,” Niall winked. I brushed my bang behind my ear and laughed. “I only took a couple lessons, but Miss Evans did teach me well. But it was all I could afford.”

The boys gave me solemn looks, but I knew they were laced with concern. “It’s a long story, just forget about it. Anyways, that was just a rough sheet so, I was thinking we could all contribute and tweak the lyrics. Only if you want to.” “You’re okay with that?”

“I would be more than okay with that.”

We spent the rest of our studio hours talking and writing. Liam, Louis, and Niall pitched in the most, but I couldn’t give enough credit to Zayn and Harry helping with the chorus. But between all that, Harry seemed out of it. I didn’t know what was bugging him, but I did want to help out, even if it wasn’t my place.

We all said our goodbyes, and I began walking to Thompson Street to catch the bus. One I got there, I checked the schedule by the bench, only to mentally smack myself on the forehead when I was twenty minutes late. Before I tried to call Amy, Harry pulled up on the road next to me. “Missed the bus?” I nodded, and crossed my arms trying to understand what he was doing here. He was distant. I didn’t think he was in the mood for anything.

“I’m grabbing some coffee. Would you..would you like to join me? I can take you home afterwards.” A ghost of a smile passed my lips, and I agreed, hopping into his passenger. We made our way to a French coffee house named “Grain de Café”. “Coffee bean,” He chuckled, reading the sign on the top of the little building. “I didn’t know you spoke French,” I smiled. “There’s tons of things you don’t know about me Emma. But I am fluent in French yes,” He replied with a grin.

He held the door open for me, and I happily obliged, making sure I wouldn’t look like an idiot when I almost tripped on the tile. I told him I would find us a small table, and he nodded, grabbing his wallet. I found something close to the window, seeing the diversity of London’s roads and buildings. Sometimes I regretted leaving home the way I did, but then I realize it was completely worth it. Especially if I could live like this. At least for now.

Harry ordered to the brunette working behind the counter, and she went in close with a devilish smile. He chuckled and handed her the cash, and their hands touched, causing her cheeks to blush and a sudden twist to form in my stomach. What the hell? I only knew this guy a week. Maybe less than a week. I could not and would not jealous. Right?

He came to the table, with two cups of coffee, and a small bagel. “I didn’t know what to get, so I got you a cinnamon bagel and a-” “Vanilla mocha,” I grinned, inhaling the aroma of vanilla and coffee bean inside my cup. He smiled and slid the bagel on the grey napkin to me. “So, what other things do I not know about you? No wait. It’s the ‘I’m gonna have to kill you if I do tell you’ information isn’t it?” He laughed and took a sip of his coffee, as did I. “Well, there’s nothing really that interesting. I mean I’m in a band, I like art, I write, I-”

“You write? Why didn’t you tell me? Well you mentioned it to Simon, but I mean, that’s great news. We could maybe, write together,” I implied. “Emma, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. My stuff is crap compared to yours. And it’s just…really jumbled up.” “Oh c’mon. I bet it’s not. You seem really deep. With your clothing and whatnot.” We both shared another laugh, and soon we tossed our coffee in the bin outside, and he took me back to my apartment. “Probably one of the best cup of coffees I’ve ever had,” I smiled. “Always.”

Harry walked me up the stairs to my door, and I pressed the key in the lock, smiling to myself. “Would you like to come in? I mean, I have other books if you want to-” “Sure. But only for awhile. I have another meeting with Simon.” “Twenty minutes,” I smiled.

He walked in behind me for the second time today, but I felt twice as nervous than at the coffee shop. It was my apartment. It was a little beaten down, but it was my home. “It’s nice…” “I know. It’s a dump Harry. But hey, it’s cheap, and it fits me well.”

Harry set his coat down on the couch, and sat there, making me laugh at his giant form on my tiny sofa. “What?” “Nothing, you just look really cute like that.” I ran to get my notebook from my dresser, and came back to find Harry reading from my copy of Pride & Prejudice. “I didn’t know you read-” “Jane Austen,” He laughed setting it back down, “Yeah. It’s kind-of required on the reading list in primary school.”

He read some of the poems I wrote from my small journal, and he smiled at the poem I had written a thousand times. The scribbles were still visible, and I felt really embarrassed. “This one is really cute.” “What,” I said, pretending to be offended. Then Harry recited my poem.

“How I wish you could understand

Hold me beside you and understand me underneath this sky

Don’t try slide me underneath microscopes to know me

Just attempt to see me beyond the naked eye

I need you and want you  to understand

Because I’d live to understand you as well

If I could not know you this way / beyond the skin

It would be like standing between seven shades of Hell.”

I blushed, and he tipped my head up to meet his eyes. “It’s beautiful. Trust me.” Then we were kissing.