I Bet

Chapter 8

My fingers trailed over the soft wooden arm rest as I leaned forwards and stared at the sheet of paper. I read the words over and over in my mind, my eyes scanning back and forth. I was really trying by best with this, but it just didn't seem to be a good day.
"No offence but I've got to sing this crap?" I muttered, finally breaking eye contact with the paper to look back up at Jason.
He sighed heavily. "Our best team has wrote that song, how can you even call it crap?"
"I'm sorry but... have you read it? By the looks of things you want me to turn into the kind of stupid ass pop singer that sings worthless drivel."
Paul and John giggled from the left of me as they sunk back into their seats, watching me and Jason argue over the simplest of things. See, he had given me a few sheets of paper with different song lyrics and chords on that were apparently written by a group of skilled composers, but in my eyes the words were meaningless, repetitive and annoying.
"Worthless drivel?"
I picked up the paper roughly and and stared at it. "Yes! That is exactly what it is! Oh let's just look at this verse here, shall we? 'I saw him as I walked into the shop, just the twinkle in his eye made my heart stop'. Oh y-e-s, because seeing someone while your shopping for flipping broccoli is so romantic. I might as well sing 'he told me his name was Olly, I wish he would jump in me trolley'." I mocked, dropping the paper back onto the table. All the boys were laughing now, however Jason's deep gaze made me feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Why are you so difficult?" He groaned.
"Oh come on mate, the words are pretty naff, yer have to admit." John agreed, sitting up. "I mean I could write better lines while I'm on the toilet."
Ringo laughed. "You have done."
"Well what do you suggest then?" Jason asked in an agitated voice, interrupting the humourous attitude between me and the other four. He was trying to go along with us, but you could tell that he was getting slowly worked up.
"Here's an idea. Why don't she just write her own stuff?" Paul muttered. "It doesn't take Einstein think of that."
I looked at him with a blank expression. Could I write songs? I'd written songs before, but while I was young and naive and they weren't the best little tunes you'd heard. Why did he suggest that? I couldn't possibly write a dozen songs for myself. I struggled to think of the Olly in my trolley line, surely I wouldn't be able to write entire lyrics and chords.
"Can you even write songs?" Jason asked.
I blinked. "Erm, well, I don't know. I could try."
"We'll help." George suddenly spoke as soon as the words had left my mouth. I peered over at him, I couldn't decipher the look in his eyes or the way in which he sat with his legs bent in my direction but his arms folded strongly across his chest. It was as if he pushed me away with everything he said, but then somehow I couldn't tell if he truly did like me or not.
"Ugh, well, that's your job. You can have these recording booths and studio A all week, but I want you to produce some good songs or you're singing the shopping one." Jason explained sternly. "I have stuff I need to do."
He tossed a set of keys at me and I breathed out, sliding them into my pocket. And with that, he was gone, sauntering out of the room before we had even acknowledged his departure.

"So... what do we do now?" I questioned, turning towards the four boys who were sitting there, staring back at me.
"This is the fun bit. This is when you can really get stuck into it." John said and they all laughed slightly.
I was nervous. They were all incredible musicians. They had recorded some of the best pieces of music I had ever heard - their albums were masterpieces. And then there was me, just some hippie girl dragged from a dingy house and I was probably expected to get onto the same level. There was just no way I had the ability to write a song on my own; I really needed their help.

"How do you even write a song?" I asked stupidly, resting my head on the desk so I was like a fish in a flopped position.
"There aint an answer to that. You just think of something you want to write about - somethin' you're just thinking about or that interests you right now. And then you scribble till something makes sense." Paul told me.
"What can I write a song about though!" I moaned.
John tugged at my arm roughly, pulling me back up from my flopped position on the table. "Think."

I sat there, thinking of what to write about. I mean the only things that were going through my mind right now was the fact that I had a record contract. I couldn't write about that. And I was feeling completely heartbroken about how George had left me, and seeing him again just brought the memories back, and the other boys weren't how they used to be. They were colder around me, still trying to be nice but they weren't as close. But I definitely could not write a song about that. It would be too obvious. Right?
The others started to busy themselves doing stuff, George in particular was browsing the different guitars that were strung on the walls. Ringo, Paul and John decided to record themselves making funny noises in the booth and then play them back all mushed up into one thing.
I picked up the pen and chewed it. I was going to write a simple love song not even about anybody. I thought and thought and finally began writing words.
I haven't seen you in a while, your fingers feel cold against my skin
Seeing you again like this should be a sin
Hey, that sounds good, right? Just a simple love song. This will be easy.
All the times I felt the soft brush of your lips
None of them made me feel exactly like this
Okay... this is going alright...
Because it feels like all I think about nowadays is you and me
And even though I know it's over I think of how we used to be
No. No no no no. This is not going in the right direction. Why am I writing about this.
Your soft brown hair and the different shades of chocolate in your eyes
Just how they used to be when you told me all those lies
I can't help but notice your dimples and your fangs
The ones that appeared when you smiled or when you sang
And I can't really believe that I'm telling you all this,
But I think you got me all jumbled up after that sweet kiss.
Holy crap. Holy holy holy holy crap. That was not meant to happen. Am I that obsessed that I can subconsciously write things like that? No. I hate him. I hate him with all my being. Why would I write that? Why would I let myself write that?

"Hey, you've wrote loads! Lemme see!" Paul exclaimed as he glanced over at my sheet of paper. They were all standing nearby now, apart from George who was next to me, plucking at the strands of a guitar he had befriended.
"No no no it's not finished it's not good it's very bad do not read it-" I said in a jumble as I snatched the paper off the table quickly. Well that was smooth, Caitlin.
"Oh come on, give it here." George grumbled and snatched the piece of paper from my grip immediately.
This is it. This is how I end. I always knew I would die young. I'd like to say I love you to all my family, especially my mum and my dad and by the way dad you can have my record player and my Queen records. Goodbye world.

As I watched George's eyes scan over the words on the paper, I couldn't help but tense up all of my muscles as a bolt of fear shot through my body. I watched as his facial expression changed, changed into an emotionless expression. I couldn't even tell what he was thinking, he just looked blank. And then his eyes connected with mine, and them few seconds felt like hours.

{A/N: kinda proud with that song I just wrote! I should soooo be an artist like I am fabuloso honey. lols. this chapter is alrate, I wanted  to update quickly because I feel like I'm ignoring this story. Anyway please carry on voting AND PLEASE COMMENT it means the world. thanks.}