The Cover Girls (A One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter 41 - My Nightingale

A/N: Let's be clear:

I KNOW THAT THESE SONGS ARE ALREADY EXISTENT. WE ARE PRETENDING THAT THE GIRLS WROTE THEM FOR THE SAKE OF THE STORY. I TAKE ABSOLUTELY NO OWNERSHIP OF THESE SONGS. THEY WILL BE IN THE SIDEBAR WITH THEIR ORIGINAL ARTISTS.

Good, now that that's understood, please enjoy this chapter :)

~Grace xx

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~April~ 

“What’d your parents say?” I asked all the girls when Louis and I returned.

I was very surprised to hear that they were all okay with it. My parents were very into letting Mike and I learn and make our own mistakes and do what we please as long as we’re safe. My friend’s parents, however, were less open to that. I was glad, though, not just because it meant we could all stay and record an EP. It seemed like their parents were starting to understand that they needed more freedom to grow.

“What did yours say?” Kris asked me anxiously.

“They said yes.”

“WOOOO!” We all starting cheering and yipping joyfully. It was starting to occur to me, everything that was happening around me. I had met One Direction. I had met Ed Sheeran. I was being signed to a record label.

After our short celebration we called back Simon and Harry gave us all his number. He told us that he could free a session at a studio for two days later so we could get recording as fast as possible. But then came the question: what would we sing?

“So we know that you’ve only ever had experience with doing covers,” Simon told us, “But we were thinking for the EP that you could have two or three original songs and then a few covers of your choice. Do you think you’ll be able to do that quickly?”

“We can help them with the songwriting,” Louis offered.

“Good! You should get to work on it right away.”

We all agreed and hung up after a few more questions. He was emailing us the contracts so we could read them and then sign some papers before recording. Simon assured us that we wouldn’t have to worry about any of the technical stuff. All we had to do was sing.

“I think he really likes you,” Niall told us after we said goodbye, “he usually doesn’t work this personally on new artists.”

“He’s really not as mean as they make him out to be on TV,” Kris commented.

“So,” Harry spoke up, “you need to start writing some music.”

“With what?” Rikki asked, “We don’t have any instruments. And even if we did, April’s the only one who can play them.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Louis said, then looked at Harry, “should we show them?”

“Of course!” They hopped up and we followed as they sprinted down a hallway on the first floor. I thought that the only thing there was a bathroom and a storage closet but, to my surprise, there was another, smaller, door.

Harry opened it and began down a staircase that apparently led to a basement.

It was dark and smelled musty. We were all at varying heights on the stairs as Harry shuffled around before finding a switch and flicking it on.

The walls were painted eggshell blue. Gray carpet was across the floor. A big lump covered by a sheet was sitting in the corner, but it was obvious that it was a grand piano. There were two guitar-shaped cases sitting beside it, along with an amp. Beans bags and mismatching chairs were scattered around the room. There was even a small drumset pushed against the far wall.