The Cover Girl [Harry Styles Love Story]

Chapter One

Well, after popular demand, here it is! Chapter One...I'm not necessarily happy with how short this is, and I'm sorry /: But just because it's short does not mean there aren't important things in it. Let's just say, you might want to pay attention (;

-Levi (: xx 

She inhaled deeply and ran her fingertips amiably over the checkered ebony and alabaster keys, cherishing the beloved feel of smooth plastic. It wasn’t just the plastic—in fact, she liked the feel of ivory keys like she had on the grand piano in the main room better—it was the familiarity of it. The plastic was rather worn and had lost its luster, but it was smooth, nonetheless, and she had made it so. She slid into the ottoman she had transformed into a bench and reached across the keyboard to the laptop and webcam where she clicked it on. She separated her long, chestnut waves into two parts and placed them tidily over her chest where they extended to her second ribs. She tugged at the hem of her black-and-white striped Henley and brought her silver locket into camera view. She then stretched her arm once more over to the webcam and adjusted it to viewing her from neck down. As soon as the camera focused, she halted, staring into the feed on her screen. That one little mark, that little distinctive flaw was visible. She swallowed over the tough knot in her throat and used her hair to cover it. As soon as she was satisfied with her appearance and the position, she clicked RECORD and placed her fingers on the keys.

            Her chipping black-polished nails flew across the keys gracefully as she willed the piano to spit out a beautiful jazzy tune she taught herself over and over by ear. As her cue neared, she took in a breath and opened her mouth. “You’ve been on my mind. I grow fonder everyday lose myself in time just thinking of your face. God only knows why it’s taken me so long to let my doubts go. You’re the only one I want,” her beautiful folk voice caroled as her hands worked with her. “I don’t know why I’m scared; I’ve been here before. Every feeling, every word—I’ve imagined it all. But you’ll never know if you never try to forgive you past and simply be mine.

            “I dare you to let me be your one and only. Promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms, so come on, and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts.

            “Have I been on your mind? You hang onto every word I say. Lose yourself in time at the mention of my name. Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close, and have you tell me whichever road I choose you’ll go?

            “I don’t know why I’m scared; I’ve been here before. Every feeling, every word—I’ve imagined it all. But you’ll never know if you never try to forgive you past and simply be mine.

            “I dare you to let me be your one and only. Promise I’m worthy to hold in your arms, so come on, and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts.”

            She stopped singing to personalize it by adding in the melodic piano solo she came up with to replace the part of the song she couldn’t sing alone. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as this was the first time she actually thought she wouldn’t have to do a second take. Her hands slowed and she vocalized with a brilliant vibrato, “Come on and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts.” Just as she played the final chord, she heard a low, muffled booming sound, and she recognized it to be the garage door closing. Quickly, she leaned over her piano and clicked off the camera.

            “Iridesca, would you come down for a moment?” She switched off the piano and stood with perfect posture and marched to the hallway. She cascaded down the winding stairs gracefully and swept through the front room and took her seat at the large, mahogany dining table that was filled with brown paper grocery bags. As June, Iridesca’s mother, transported the bags from the table to the counter and then to their rightful places either in the refrigerator or the pantry.