The Cover Girls (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter 38 - The Karaoke Apocalypse (pt. 3)

~April~

Ed Sheeran was inviting me up onto a stage to sing with him.

And I was sitting there a stupid idiot.

“Huh?” I mumbled, staring up with wide eyes as Louis chuckled.

“C’mon up here, April,” Ed encouraged with a smile, his orange hair sticking out like a traffic cone in the bright stage lights.

Nearly tripping over myself, I walked up the few steps and hesitantly took a seat next to my musical idol. He turned and leaned in to talk to me, the guitar poised comfortably in his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll know this one,” Ed whispered, “so don’t be nervous. Just have fun.”

He leaned back and started to strum a little bit before starting the song. I looked out at my friends’ joyous expressions and noticed that Erin had her phone out and pointed at me, as Ed Sheeran starting singing beside me.

“White lips, pale face, breathing in the snowflakes, burnt lungs, sour taste,” He sounded even more angelic in person and I had a hard time remembering to breathe as his beautiful voice floated around the room, “Light’s gone, day’s end, struggling to pay rent, long nights, strange men.

“And they say, she’s in the Class A Team, stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen, but lately, her face seems, slowly sinking, wasting, crumbling like pastries, and they scream, the worst things in life come free to us.”

“Cause we're just under the upper hand,” Ed winked at me and I softly harmonized with his voice, feeling like my insides were about to explode from happiness as my stomach was doing acrobatics, “and go mad for a couple grams, and she don't want to go outside tonight, and in a pipe she flies to the Motherland, or sells love to another man, it's too cold outside, for angels to fly, angels to fly.” Ed nodded to me as he played the guitar and I started singing by myself

“Ripped gloves, raincoat,” I sang, “tried to swim and stay afloat, dry house, wet clothes. Loose change, bank notes, weary-eyed, dry throat, call girl, no phone.”

“And they say, she’s in the Class A Team, stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen,” Ed and I sang together, but my voice louder this time so you could hear the both of us, “but lately, her face seems, slowly sinking, wasting, crumbling like pastries, and they scream, the worst things in life come free to us.

“Cause we're just under the upper hand, and go mad for a couple grams, and she don't want to go outside tonight, and in a pipe she flies to the Motherland, or sells love to another man, it's too cold outside, for angels to fly, an angel will die, covered in white, closed eye, and hoping for a better life. This time, we’ll fade out tonight, straight down the line.”

“And they say,” Ed sang, “she’s in the Class A Team, stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen, but lately, her face seems, slowly sinking, wasting, crumbling like pastries, and they scream, the worst things in life come free to us, and we’re-”

“Ooh, under the upper hand,” I sang on my own as Ed stopped the strumming of his guitar for a moment, leaving the air to be filled with only my voice, “go mad for a couple grams. And we don’t want to go outside tonight. And in the pipe, we fly to the motherland, sell love to another man.”

“It’s too cold outside,” Ed joined in, “for angels to fly. Angels to fly. To fly, fly, for angels to fly, to fly, to fly. Or angels to die.” We finished the song together.

Trying to describe what it was like singing with Ed Sheeran, my inspiration and role model, would be like trying to explain how to breathe. I felt woozy but strangely aware of every little thing around me. I barely heard the applause and shouting and whooping and hollering.

“You have a great voice, April,” Ed said to me, looking in my eyes as we stood from our stools. He sounded so sincere, so genuine. I would never forget those words.

My legs seemed to lead me back to my table without me telling them too. It was like when something big happened in your life and your body just went on auto-pilot until you could figure out how to work it again. And singing with Ed Sheeran was huge; probably one of the biggest and most significant things I had ever done. It was fulfilling a dream I never imagined could come true.

Louis’ face when I returned was overwhelming. I saw such pride in his eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. It was such a foreign feeling for me, having someone that I was attached to in more than a friendly way. To get this strange feeling in your chest when you see them, then think it’s stupid, but you still can’t deny it. Everything was bizarre, meeting the guys, dating one of them, singing with Ed Sheeran. It made me feel dizzy thinking about it, a strange mix of happy and confusion.

In the midst of the clapping and smiling faces, I started to think, which was never good. Harry went up to sing upon our request and as he was singing, I thought about how different he and I were. How different the boys were from me. How different the girls were from me. Even how different Louis was from me. They all belonged there, laughing and drinking together, sure of their next step.

The thing with Simon was a really big deal to me. Yes, of course it was to them too, they were just as much of the band as I was. But they all had something to fall back on, another love. I only had singing. That part of me was wishing desperately for the deal, even though I knew how dangerous it was. Singing was about how it made me feel, that was why I sang, not for fame, not for the approval of other people. And yet, bothered me so much that a group of people in suits and ties were deciding my future, and I had no say in it. All I could do was sit around and wonder if I was good enough.

Was I?