The Middle | Hemmings + Styles AU

3. they'd both be a trenta

I was going to kill, Olivia.

She'd always been pretty flaky but waiting until I get to the bar where 5 Seconds of Whatever are playing to text me and say that she can't make it? Well, that's more than flaky than a dried out soap cake.

She hadn't even given me a good excuse. Only that she wasn't feeling well. I bet she actually had a date; some rich boy type who wouldn't step foot in a sweaty bar that only sold one type of beer. Typical.

The venue had a lot more people than I'd been expecting which made me curious and I decided not to abandon ship. A decent crowd usually meant a decent act so maybe Luke's band wasn't going to suck entirely.

There was a stage at the far end of the venue along with an open space for people to dance. I decided to go straight to the back of the dance space where a few metal barstools were pressed against the wall. By the time Luke's band took to the stage half hour later, there were even more bodies crammed into the open space. I had to crane my neck to see the stage.

Their first song was pretty good. 

Actually, so was their second song. By the third song I was less fuming at Olivia for not showing up and soaking in the music, my head nodding along to their pop-punk anthems.

Luke introduced himself and the rest of the band to the crowd, but the words got lost in the darkened bar. Or more correctly, swallowed up by the delighted screams of the girls in the bar, as they were dangerously close to catapulting themselves onto the stage.

Their bassist was leading into the fourth song when Luke spotted me at the back and sent a wink my way. It was mildly flattering even though I knew that was in the job description of being a frontman; wooing the crowd.

"What do you think of them?"

I turned my head to the direction of the British voice, and came face to face with a boy with long brown hair and intense green eyes. He oozed sophistication in his unbuttoned silk shirt and a black pair of skinny jeans.

"Do you like them?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"They're good, I think. I'd come and see them again, which is usually how I judge if I like a band."

I tried to casually glance at the tattoos which graced his exposed tanned chest, before drawing my eyes back to his. The word boy didn't fit him properly. He reminded me of an 80s rockstar who had accidentally wandered into 2015.

"They are rather good," he agreed, making my stomach wobble with the way his accent drew out the word rather. He had to be a few years older than me, maybe 21 or 22.

"Do you come here a lot?"

The over-used line was so far from my personality, I wanted to disappear into the floor at that moment. I took pride in my usually witty, sarcastic self but she seemed to have been completely evaporated by Mr Green Eyes.

"Occasionally," he leaned closer towards me and I caught the scent of his cologne. He smelled like heaven and Chanel Bleu. "I'm a music scout for Pilot Records," he explained, raising his voice over the music.

"I work in a CD store," I shouted back. Nice one, Stella.

If he had have walked away from me at that moment, I wouldn't have been surprised or offended. He seemed like a soulful god from another life and I was simply a mere mortal not worthy of his presence.

He didn't walk away though. He held his hand out to shake mine in the most gentleman-like fashion, "I'm Harry." He spoke with a tone that coated each of his words in velvet; ebbing from coarse to smooth.

"Stella," I smiled but it wasn't my usual grin. It was wobbly and weak.

I didn't say anything after that. 5 Seconds of Summer played a few slower ballads which were actually incredibly beautiful. There was something raw and mesmerising about their style of music being stripped back with softer vocals and slowed down melodies.

When they'd finished the set, the boys left the stage and took photos with about a dozen girls that I guessed were either fans or groupies. It was hard to tell. They seemed to adore the four boys though.

Harry watched them very carefully too, particularly interested as they interacted with fans who were clearly very dedicated to the local band. I wondered how long they'd been playing shows for. I wondered if they knew there was a scout here watching them.

Eventually, through the sweaty crowd, Luke made it to the back. "You came," he said with a confident smile. His quiff was messed up slightly from his sweaty forehead.

"Not yet," I joked, doing an internal happy dance that some of my sass had returned.

"So, backstage then?" he winked and I laughed as the British boy next to me cleared his throat. I'd finally forgotten he was there.

"Oh. Luke this is Harry, Harry this is -"

"Luke Hemmings," Harry finished, leaning across to shake Luke's hand. "I've heard a lot about you and your band."

Luke's usual cocky persona vanished and he looked like he might fall over. His mouth actually fell open a little. "You have?"

"I have," Harry nodded, standing up from the bar stool. I suddenly felt very short sitting between the two boys. If I were ordering them at Starbucks, they'd both be a Trenta.

"I've got another gig to get to but I'll be seeing you soon." His head turned towards me and I noticed how sharp his jaw line was. I bet it could cut paper.

"It was lovely to meet you, Stella," he said, momentarily touching my lower back with the palm of his hand before walking out of the venue. Lovely.

"So, what did you think?" Luke asked, pulling me out of my Harry induced-whiplash. His blue eyes were lit up, still riding the adrenalin of being up on the stage.

"You definitely exceeded my expectations," I smiled. "One of the best bands I've seen here. And your guitarist is very talented."

The last time I came to this bar, I saw an acoustic duo who were mildly tone-deaf with lyrics that could have very well been written by a three year old. I didn't tell Luke that though. They'd put on a good show and he deserved to enjoy his moment.

"Michael? Yeah, he is." Luke wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "So, maybe for our next gig you could let us put a poster in the actual store window?"

"Not so fast, quiff boy," I laughed. "You have a long way to go if you want to secure store window real estate."

He gestured towards the bar behind me, "Would buying a drink for the pretty girl that works there help our case?"

"It definitely won't," I told him with a raised eyebrow. "But I won't say no to a free drink."

fyi i made pilot records up and idk if there is a company of the same name out there but if there is, it's coincidental.

AND WHO ARE YOU SHIPPING SO FAR?