Tunes | Harry Styles

Two days

My fingers holds the card, my body resting upon my hotel bed. My eyes gazes the name again, Harry Styles. Was it a good Idea? I'll be traveling back to America soon, maybe then I wouldn't mean that much no more. But what if this were my chance as a musician?

Curiously, I take my Macbook, turning it on. I hesitated first before typing in his name. A rush of coldness entered my body as pictures and Information about him were viewed.

He's famous?

"Oh my god," were the only form of words I've gotten out of my mouth. "Oh my god," I repeated. He was part, or still is - of the biggest boy band named One Direction. Of course! That is why he looked very familiar. Suddenly, a rush of self consciousness and Insecurity knock up in me. This wasn't a joke. Did he really think I was that good? An artist himself complimented me. He wouldn't just compliment me for the sake of it, right? I then realize he wanted me to be part of his band? But what if I weren't good enough? Maybe he thought I was good enough but I weren't. I bet his band members are experts and professionals and I'm just a college student, just good in music. But them, they were probably too good.

"Fuck," I cursed, covering my face in embarrassment - god knows what I'm embarrassed about.

Two days has passed and I haven't called him. I was in a battle between confidence and self consciousness. But he asked me, he almost seemed too Interested. I set in the coffee shop, writing down some lyrics. It was cliché and typical, sitting in a coffee shop and writing. But I don't blame anyone, it were calming. The aroma of caffeine, the sound of small chatters from other people, the hissing sound of the coffee machine. It was a little world that not everyone can understand or get into.

I never had a friend or company that was Interested in music. Which is bizarre, considering this generation everyone seemed Interested in music. Perhaps it was the fact my taste in music was different. It was raw and deep, but not too deep as if I were forcing myself to sound relatable. Music for me is the definition of home. Writing songs were simple for me. I didn't need deep words, just deep meanings. Something that another person can understand the agony you're going through and to whoever will listen to my songs, I want them to realize they're not alone about how they feel - someone else goes through it too.

My fingers gripped my pen, randomly scribbling down on my notebook. Follow the wind, go with the flow. I tilt my head aside, pursing my lips. I believe we met for a reason, Harry and I. I wanted to experience, he wanted a member and he chose me - which was an honor. Chances like these rarely come around.

I take in a deep breath, taking my phone and the card in between the pages of my notebook. I type in his phone number. Should I text first or call? What if he already found another member? I stuck in a breath and slowly exhaled. I wouldn't know unless I tried. Hesitantly, I type my message.

To Harry : is the position still open for another member? - Louisa

I sent the text, dropping my phone abruptly on my table. Jesus Christ, I just did it. I covered my face, my foot anxiously tapping against the floor, awaiting for a response. Did I sound too unprofessional? Oh my god, I did! That'll probably discourage him.

My skin jumped as my phone vibrated. I gulped a lump in my throat, tugging my lip, counting a minute before I'll reply. The minute slipped away just like seconds as I hesitantly take my phone, unlocking it to see his message.

From Harry : was just waiting for you.