the perks of nyc | h.s

chapter one

my fingers glided over the strings, hitting them with enough force to get a clear and beautiful sound. as i strummed the chords for 'luck', one of my favourites, i quietly cleared my throat.

'how can we make amends when we said all we said?

i call you and you don't pick up

how can i say instead that i hope for the best?

i won't, and i won't give up.'

the words gracefully flew out of my mouth, most passer-byers walked away not even achknowledging the fact that i was there. most of the tourists would stop and take photos of me, i'd smile as i continued on singing to perhaps persuade them to at least give me a dollar or two.

an old asian women neared me with a smile and popped in a five dollar bill into my guitar case, my hopes were lifted. i courageously built up the song, belting out my voice, making it vibrant.

'i'm sorry, mother. i know i let you down.

i'm sorry, father. i didn't stick around.'

i sang, pouring my emotions into it, and every word holding a close meaning to my heart.

memories of the glorious life before flashed through my mind as i continued my attempt to appeal to the on-goers, praying for a decent lunch this time around.

the cabs drifted by, leaving rushes of wind behind them. a humming could be heard from my far left over my own voice, continuing it's descend towards my area. the patter of footsteps could be heard from all around me, drowning out any silence that could be found in the city.

honking horns erupted from the busy street, sometimes startling me and causing me to falter with the notes i so desperately needed to produce. the humming grew closer as my strums attempted to get louder, catching the ears of one walking by.

large brown boots stopped in front of me causing me to stop abruptly, mid-song. i slowly shifted my vision from the ground to the familiar boy. i've seen him before, no doubt.

"why are you playing on the streets?"

his question surprised me to say the least. i wanted to tell him that I'm a loser. that i barely eat everyday because i can't hold a job. i want him to know that I'm here playing on the streets because i desperately need cash and it's the only job i can't get fired from.

"reasons."

he chuckled, still staring at me with amused eyes.

"reasons? like what?"

i shifted my gaze towards the open guitar case in front of me. a crisp five dollar bill lay crumpled up along with a few pennies here and there.

"i don't even know you. how do i know you won't laugh in my face? "

"my name is harry styles. now you know me."

i shook my head, realizing who he really was. i've seen his face plenty of times across billboards and magazines. he's in a stupid boy band. he doesn't even know what real music is it for that matter, knowing how to sing without auto tune.

"look, shouldn't you be practicing your synchronized dances or something?"

i spat, watching as he eyes grew wide for a millisecond and quickly shifted to pure amusement and laughter.

"what's so funny?"

i glared at the man in front of me, getting more annoyed by his presence.

"you don't even know me."

"according to you, i do. remember?"

he shifted in his standing position to leaning more on his right leg with a hand stuffed into his jeans pocket.

"you have a point."

he paused, glancing down the busy street behind him.

"what your name?"

"scar."

"scar? no last name?"

"just scar."

i focused my attention back towards the guitar in my hand, letting my fingers hit the cold strings. the dark figure in front of me moved, showing that he had finally left.

thank god.

// authors note //

thank you all for the incredible response to this book. we hope you like this chapter and don't forget to comment and vote or maybe even fan. whatever works best for you beautiful people.

- cierra & tamee .xx