Falling | h.s

six

HARRY'S POV

I wake up with a groan, my cell phone blaring loudly. I muster up all of my strength to roll over, begging for the noise to stop. Tom's name is flashing on the screen. I click ignore, not wanting to endure the lecture I was sure to have deserved. I haven't been this hungover in months, maybe since the night Camille left me. I was still wearing my black jeans and boots from the night before which was not helping my discomfort. I sit up slowly and rub my temple in an attempt to aid my pounding headache. What the hell did I do last night?

I glance at my bedside table and see my journal sat there and it all flooded back to me. Janie, her lyrics, her friends. How I opened up, how she made me feel, how we almost kissed. Her smile, the way she looked at me. 

The song. 

I grab for the notebook quickly and flip through the pages and pages of drunken scribbles until I find the page I am looking for. LIGHTS UP is written in bold at the top of the page in presumably Janie's handwriting, and the song we wrote together is detailed out below. Little notes of specific chords and sound effects are annotated on the side. And finally, our names, written together at the bottom of the page.

My eyes scan the page quickly, taking in the lyrics that I barely remember, and I find myself in awe. I hummed along to the song I wrote with the stranger I met in a bar and grinned. It was raw and honest. It was empowering, and most importantly, it was good. No, it was really good. First-single-from-the-album good. I've never written like this before, and it was all because of her. It made me excited, for the first time, to write my second album. I needed her. 

I grab my phone to check the time and see that it's half-past ten and curse to myself. I hop out of bed, splash cold water on my face, tuck my journal in my back pocket, and hurry out of the motel room. 

I curse again as I exit my room, the morning sunshine overwhelming me as soon as I open the door. I cover my eyes in hopes to help my hangover but still move forward. I was a man on a mission. It was hazy, but I was sure she said she and her friends were staying here. Or, maybe her friend said that. Either way, I needed to find her. 

"Good morning," the motel receptionist greets me with a nervous smile. "How may I assist you this morning." She looked to only be about sixteen or seventeen, and by the way she was twirling her hair around her index finger, I could gather that she knew who I was. 

"Good morning. I met a girl last night in the bar down the street and I think she said she was staying here. Is there any chance you can look up her name for me?" I grin again in attempts to charm her. 

"Unfortunately, we are unable to give out any information about our guests," she forces a sympathetic smile. I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "But, did you get her phone number or anything?" She asks hopefully and I shake my head. 

"No, all I know is her name. We were both too drunk and I forgot to ask for her number," I explain and she nods. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" I ask again, hoping that her potential fan status will allow for some leeway. I don't usually like to use my name and profession to get what I want, but in times like these, it definitely doesn't hurt. 

"Well, I can't tell you any guest's names or information, but I can tell you that a group of four girls checked out about an hour ago. But, you didn't hear that from me," she winks and I grin back at her. "I'm sorry I can't help you, but is there anything else at all that you need help with?" She asks hopefully once again. I smile and shake my head.