Your Song

Chapter 3

            The wind whipped my face as I swung on the swing. The boys were all over the playground, going on every play structure they saw, joking around with each other and running around.

            "I swear, they're like little boys," I snicker.

            For a minute, I just listen to the laughter in the silent park. I stare at the houses all lined up nicely down the street, curving all around me. I smoothe my hand over the cover of my notebook and sigh. Time for the hard part. Time to choose a song.

            Opening the book, I flip through the crumpled pages. I started song writing at a pretty young age, so my notebook was beginning to run out of room.

            "Decisions, decisions," I mutter.

            If I chose one of my slow, deep songs, they'd get a little taste of how I think less of how I hear things. Yet, I don't want them to think I'm too serious, y'know? All bands deserve to have a fun, upbeat song that has enough meaning to be heard. Maybe I should just read the lyrics, no singing. Yeah, good idea. I know exactly what I'm going to read. Something I wrote last month. Or, wait-no. Maybe I'll read something else. No wait, I'll just read this one. Yes, this one. I think.

            "Don't strain yourself," I hear a voice say beside me.

            Looking up, a curly headed boy is standing with his hands in his pockets.

            "Oh, hey, Harry," I smile sheepishly. "I'm just choosing a song to read to you guys."

            "I can tell." Taking a seat on the swing beside me, he leans over and takes a peek at my notebook. "Watchu got there?"

            "Uh," I close the book shut. "I'll just read this to you guys when you're done playing around."

            He raises his eyebrow and grins. "Well, I'm obviously done playing around."

            "Well, they're not," I say, pointing at the others, who were now on the see-saw.

            "Zayn, get off!" I hear Niall yell. "It's my turn!"

            "See?"

            "It doesn't matter, does it?" he shrugs. "Why not give me a preview, yeah?"

            I instantly shake my head. "No thanks, Harry."

            "Why not?" he frowns.

            "Because..." I think, trying to find a way out of the subject.

            "Because...?"

            "Because I don't want to."

            "That's a terrible excuse."

            "Well, that's great because..."

            "Because...?"

            He waits for me to continue. I keep my mouth shut. Slowly, I slide the notebook under my shirt.

            His eyes slowly follow my movement.

            "Because I lost my notebook?" I lie.

            Harry chuckles, his dimples begin to show. Playing along he says, "Well, why don't I help you find your notebook?"

            I shake my head and jump off the swing. "Hm, no thank you-- again. I can find it myself."

            He casually gets off the swing and begins to take a few steps towards me. I could recognize this move anywhere. He was gonna try to pry it out of my hands. Or should I say... shirt.

            I shriek and dart across the playground, shielding the book inside my shirt. Behind me, I can hear him catching up.

            "Stop it, Styles!" I scream.

            "I will not surrender!" Harry says in a villainous voice.

            "Seriously, stop!"

            I try to run as fast as I can, but he begins to pick up more speed.

            "Fine, fine, I'll show you," I say, just as I crash into another person. Behind me, Harry topples on top of me.

            "Woah there," I hear Liam say, pulling Harry up.

            "Sorry, Louis," I say apologetically. "Harry was trying to get my notebook."

            "It's no biggie," he says, still sprawled on the floor. "Just help me up."

            Taking his arm, I pull him up.

            I feel the notebook slide under my shirt and onto the floor. As an instinct I let go of Louis and pick up the notebook.

            "Oh God, sorry, Louis!"

            "It's no biggie," he repeats, sprawled on the floor once again. "Uh, Liam, help me up?"

            I chuckle awkwardly and scratch my head.

            "Why's lover boy chasing you for your notebook anyway?" Zayn asks curiously. "We're gonna see it later."

            Harry shrugs. "She already chose a song; I just wanted to see all the others."

            "Well, why don't I just show you guys now?" I say, holding up my notebook.

            I feel a throb on my knee.

            "Not now," Zayn says. "You're bleeding."

            Harry groans.

            I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Zayn, for actually caring about my bleeding knee. Thanks, Harry, for giving me the bleeding knee."

            Harry smiles remorsefully and helps me walk. I wrap my arm around his neck as he aids me as an arm crutch.

            "God, you're tall," I limp. "You're basically carrying me."

            He shrugs. "Why don't I?"

            I shrug back quizzically. 

            "Piggy back style?"

            I grin like a little girl and gladly accept. Jumping onto his back, he grips onto my legs and holds me up.

            Turning around, I watch as Liam helps Louis walk.

            "Hey, I want a piggy back ride too," Louis says jokingly. "Liam?"

            He jumps onto Liam's back without permission.

            "Christ, you're heavy," Liam mutters.

            "My house is just down the street, number 8611," I explain. "Not too far."

            Slowly and steadily, we all walk towards my home. With my arms draped around Harry's neck, I feel his arms hold me gently. He carefully takes each step.

            "You're lucky none of my hands are free," Harry says. "I would've grabbed your notebook by now."

            I laugh in realization that I was holding the notebook right in his face.

            "I'll show you all the songs in time, Styles," I smile. "For now, you can only dream."