btw this is how I imagine Amber's voice sounding like, so yeah. Imagine her actually playing the piano and singing like that.
***
"Liv, help meeee," I whine as I plop down onto my bed, the pillows around me jumping a bit. I already called Landon and he was more than willing to cover for me today, so it's my day off.
"Girl, it's up to you," she talks through FaceTime, as I sigh, getting up and starting to pace the room.
"I just don't know if I'm ready for that kind of stuff," I contemplate. I mean, seriously. I barely touched the piano again after weeks of avoidance, and now I'm supposed to perform on camera in just 4 days? Plus, he needs a keyboardist, not a pianist. Sure, I used to practice playing on the keyboard and it's not really that different from the piano, but it would just be additional stress.
"I say go for it, I mean I'm sure the salary would be pretty huge... The faster you pay off the debts, the faster you'll be free," she says, and I sigh once again. For fuck's sake, this is such a dilemma. I mean, I really need the money and it's just a one-time thing, but it's on such short notice, I could just end up fucking everything up and embarrassing myself in the process, having to say goodbye to my career.
I always like to prepare for this kind of stuff mentally. The fact that I would go in there quite unprepared is just making me feel so anxious. It's really frustrating.
"I still haven't decided," I sigh, mentally debating with myself, my hair hurting from the way I was subconsciously pulling it.
"Don't you have lunch today with him?"
"Yeah, in like 2 hours. UGHHH!" I know I probably need to have the answer ready by then, but I really just don't know.
"Do you want me to drive you there and back?" she asks in small concern. The cafe where he invited me to is pretty far away from home. He said it's a secluded place, so it's obviously quite isolated.
"Please," I plead. She's pretty much the only person I let drive me anywhere.
"Alright, I'll be at your apartment in like an hour. Get ready, love ya!" she cheers as I hear some shuffling in the background. We say our goodbyes before hanging up.
I spend some time just laying in my bed trying to weigh out the pros and cons, then walk into my closet, finding a decent outfit, not really feeling like going all out today. I change into some brown, flared jeans and a cream-colored mock neck top. I pair the outfit with white sneakers and a black purse, wearing rings and small hoop earrings.
I throw my hair in a messy low bun, putting black sunglasses on the top of my head, and add natural make-up. My phone rings, indicating Olivia's arrival, so I go downstairs, getting into her black range rover.
We spend the whole car ride just talking about nothing in particular, avoiding the subject I'm not willing to talk about. When we arrive at the cafe, she stops me from reaching the car door handle and says, "Listen, I know how you work and I know you think you can't do it in time, but out of all people, I know you'd work your ass off and have sleepless nights, but you'd do it like no one else ever could. I think this would be good for you," she looks at me with a genuine look, giving me words of assurance.
"Thanks," I smile, before making my way out of the car. My hands are sweating, so I wipe them across my jeans. Why am I nervous?
I check my phone, noticing I've arrived a bit early. Harry was right; there aren't a lot of people here. I scan over the place, seeing a brown, curly-headed man sitting at a bistro table outside the diner. He lifts his head up and runs his ring-covered fingers through his messy hair, as I make my way to the table. He then stands up giving me a quick hug, a vanilla scent radiating off of him.
"Thank you for coming," he sits down, "Sorry, I already ordered myself a coffee. I remember you drinking tea yesterday, so I ordered you that," he notes. Wow, he pays attention to detail.
"Thank you," I smile, sitting down, "Look, I haven't made up my mind yet, so I ju-" I start rambling, but get cut off by his deep voice.
"It's okay, I didn't expect you to, I understand that it's not a quick decision, and I also want you to know that we could still be friends regardless of your choice. I won't be mad or anything," he assures me as I match his wide smile. Wow, he wants us to be friends.
"Hello, what can I get for you today?" the waitress takes our order, interrupting our conversation.
"I'll have Greek salad, thank you," I close the menu in front of me.
"What about you, sir?" she turns to Harry, visibly swooning over the fact that he's a celebrity, but he doesn't seem to bother.
"Hmmm... Do you have pasta?" he asks with a smirk on his face, looking at me before the waitress nods, writing down on her notepad. Oh god.
"Great! I'll have fusilli pasta, thanks," he states, a full grin overtaking his features. As the waitress turns away, I cover my face with my hands, muttering a small, embarrassed "oh my god," as he starts laughing, closing his eyes and scrunching up his nose.
"You're not gonna let that one go, are you?" I groan, before breaking out in laughter. This is why no one ever should let me near alcohol.
"Of course not," he grins, as I just shake my head, burying my face in my hands once again.
When a moment of silence takes over, he makes sure to keep the conversation going, "So you write music as well?"
"Uh yeah, I used to with my cousin. I find it kinda therapeutic," I shrug, dipping the spoon in the tea, stirring it lightly.
"But you don't release it anywhere?" he questions with curious eyes, like he's really invested in this, giving me his full attention.
"I mean I sort of do. I have a YouTube channel where I post covers and sometimes publish videos of me singing my own songs, but I haven't released like studio versions of them or anything. I haven't posted anything in a while, actually," I admit, not liking the fact I'm saying more than I'm supposed to. I have to remind myself this is a work meeting.
"Why not?" he asks curiously, taking a sip out of his coffee.
"I mean I don't see YouTube as a job or anything, so I just post whenever I feel like it. I don't only post song covers, I also publish vlogs and other videos with friends, but I dunno, I guess I just need the right people to do that stuff with. I'd like to get back into it sometime though," I start to ramble again, but he just looks at me with an invested look, his eyes radiating an inviting look.
"Interesting," he smiles, "I'd like to hear more of your music."
"I think you've already heard enough," I reply, my drink already halfway done.
The waitress interrupts us again, bringing our orders, carrying it all in one hand. Before she leaves, she slips a small note Harry's way, winking and smiling. My guess's it's her phone number or something, as she probably wants to hook up. God, people just assume he's a womanizer basing on articles written about him.
I hate when people just make assumptions about others without knowing the whole story.
He just sighs and looks down at his plate, his mood visibly low now.
"You should've ordered the bow-tie kind of pasta," I remark, successfully trying to lighten up the mood. Just like that, his is smile is back.
"You're probably right," he's laughing now, "So, did you listen to my album?" he asks, digging into the pasta.
"Yeah, I did, I gotta admit, it's really good," I praise him, "So, do you want me to play the keyboard for all the tracks?"
"Erm, well for all of them except Kiwi," he answers, "It's really hard to explain how it's done. We have a rehearsal later today and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to join? You don't have to play today, just look at how we work, get to know my band, and stuff like that."
"Oh ok, I'd like to get to know them," I acknowledge before taking a bite out of my salad.
"So, do you only play the piano?" he flawlessly keeps the conversation going, giving me his full attention again.
"Well, when I was younger, I went to a music school, where I took piano lessons and learned the music theory for 8 years. I had a very strict teacher who'd make me play the piano for like 2 hours every day. I eventually grew bored of it, and once I knew enough about the music theory, I started learning the electric guitar on my own. I kinda suck at it though," I start telling my whole childhood story, but he looks very invested in it.
I don't even know why I tell him anything more than necessary. I just get the feeling like he won't judge me for certain things other people would.
We continue to talk about how he didn't know how to play any instruments until he joined the X factor, where they taught him the basics of a piano and Niall actually taught him the guitar.
As we take our last bites out of our meals, I start, "Well I guess I'll see you later at the rehearsal," as I'm pulling out my wallet.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for it," he insists, being faster, and already pulling out cash.
"You sure?" I cautiously ask. I don't want to seem like a bitch that can't pay for herself. I'll make sure to pay for both of us next time, though. That is, if there will be a next time.
"Of course. How are you getting home?" he shrugs it off, getting up from his seat.
"Uh, Olivia is giving me a ride. She's actually waiting for me in the parking lot, I think," I stand up, scanning the parking lot for the range rover.
"I thought you didn't like cars," he states, a slightly confused look on his features.
"I don't. She's the only one that I let drive me somewhere," I shrug it off, growing a bit uncomfortable.
He catches onto my avoidance, but, thankfully, doesn't pry. He gives me a quick hug and asks, "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
"Yeah," I answer before quickly making my way back to the black range rover.
~~~
I'm fucking nervous.
I'm already on my way walking to the rehearsal, and I'm just confused. I mean maybe I shouldn't feel so anxious about meeting his new band, but I just think the first impressions really matter, especially if I decide to play in the band for a while, after all.
I usually use walking as a way for organizing my thoughts, but now it's all just jumbled.
What if they don't like me? I mean, what if they think I'm so full of myself because I'm not rehearsing and they are? I already feel judged before even meeting them.
I already know it's going to be so awkward. I like to prepare myself for the worst because I won't be as disappointed when I actually meet the low expectations rather than if I was expecting something good. I don't know if it's some weird psychology shit or my overthinking. Am I an overthinker?
Before I know it, I'm already at the studio. What now? I mean, I can't just walk in there, so I just text Harry I'm waiting at the front doors. After a minute of silence and anxious fiddling with my fingers, the large wooden doors finally open, revealing Harry's messy hair.
We exchange our hello's and pull in a quick hug, before going inside."Don't be nervous, they already know you're coming. They're cool," he assures me, giving me small relief. My hands are sweating.
As we make our way through the front door, I already hear loud noises coming from the door to my worries. This is it, I guess.
Harry opens the door, and we both make it through, everyone stopping their playing. I look over to the huge equipment. There are a few couches to the side, a grand piano sitting in a corner, multiple instruments scattered around the studio. It's all so fancy and nice.
"Amber, this is the bass player, Adam," he waves his hand to the person sitting on the couch, who's scrolling on his phone. He lifts his head, as we exchange our nice to meet you's.
"This is the guitarist, Mitch," he waves to the person already with a guitar pick in between his lips, a guitar hanging over his shoulder, as his whole demeanor is closed off. He looks at me for a second, then goes back to strumming his guitar, like I was never here, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. See, I knew they weren't gonna like me, "he doesn't really talk much," Harry whispers, noticing my frustration.
"And this is Sarah, the drummer," he says, pointing to a woman about my age sitting in front of the drums, flipping her drumsticks in the air. There's a white hair hoop resting neatly in her brown locks, as the bangs contour her kind features, radiating a very artistic vibe. She flashes me a toothy grin before cheering, "Hiii! I've heard a lot of great things about you! Something tells me we're going to get along really well," as I just kindly smile in response.
Oh god. They probably think I've already joined the band, don't they? Has Harry told them I haven't decided yet?
"Erm, I was thinking about showing you the equipment you'd be working with," he starts, stepping over a bunch of wires, leading the way.
"You have four different keyboards. I mean, obviously, you won't have to play them all at once, they just have different sounds to each of them. It just prevents the mess with changing the effects and stuff," he explains, before continuing to show around the studio, ending up in the couches.
"Maybe we just start going over the songs, and talking through what parts we'd like you to play," he suggests, handing me the piano sheets.
For the next hour and a half, we talk about which songs are played on which keyboards, me taking detailed notes of everything. I don't want to fuck this up.
They continue playing Kiwi, the only track not needing the piano. Mitch is truly impressing me with his skill, making my eyebrows shoot up. Fuck, they're all so talented. It makes me wonder how I would fit into this band. Then, they go over the song once again, talking about the fact that they need to add another guitar for a full sound.
"Hey, didn't you tell me you know how to play the guitar as well?" Harry asks me, taking me by surprise. Wow, he actually listened to the things I told him.
"Oh nonono. I mean, yes, I do, but I play it on a Pheobe Buffay level. I really just know the basics," I try to divert the topic, but they all laugh at my comment. I didn't lie.
"You'd just have to strum a few chords. Very simple actually," Adam speaks up, searching around for another guitar.
"Plus, you'd blend right in, so if you mess up or anything, no one's going to be able to tell who did it," Sarah adds, making me smile.
"I mean, I could try..." I timidly say, fiddling with my fingers.
"C'mon Amber, play us something on the piano," Sarah joyfully requests, putting down her drumsticks, and plopping down onto the seat next to me, as a very flowery scent lingers in the air from her presence.
"What, right now? I haven't learned any of the songs on the album," I impart, shifting in my seat.
"Not from the album, just something for fun. Harry said you write your own songs too, so maybe play one of those," Sarah encourages me, making me widen my eyes.
Oh god, what else has he said about me?
"Uh, alright," I stand up, faking my confidence. I feel like if I don't play them anything, they'll think I can't actually do anything. It's better to just swallow the uneasy feeling down rather than be judged. If I actually decide to play at that documentary, I need to leave a good impression on the band.
Fuck, my hands are sweating again.
I make my way to the grand piano and try to wipe the sweat from my hands onto my jeans after adjusting the height of the stool. Oh God, I'm really doing this. I look around to see everyone's attention on me. Fuck me. I don't even know why I'm so nervous. I inhale a deep breath, before letting it out slowly, and clear my throat to discard the lump already forming there.
*play the song now?*
I start playing the first chords, already closing my eyes. Maybe it's going to be easier if I just don't look at them. I start to play around with my voice to warm it up, then start singing the first verse, singing the lyrics I wrote a long time ago from the top of my head.
"Don't be that way
Fall apart twice a day
I just wish you could feel what you say
Show, never tell
But I know you too well
Got a mood that you wish you could sell"
The piano arrangement isn't as difficult, so I can play it without looking. So far so good.
"If teardrops could be bottled
There'd be swimming pools filled by models
Told "a tight dress is what makes you a whore"
If "I love you" was a promise
Would you break it, if you're honest?
Tell the mirror what you know she's heard before
I don't wanna be you, anymore"
I have to be strategic about using my voice strength in the right moments. I start the chorus quieter, then build up the loudness, creating a thicker sound, already feeling more comfortable around the people sitting on the lounge chairs somewhere around the studio.
"Hands getting cold
Losing feeling is getting old
Was I made from a broken mold?
Hurt, I can't shake
We've made every mistake
Only you know the way that I break"
There's absolutely no sound coming from any of them. All you can hear in the eerie space is the piano and my voice. I don't think I can even hear them breathing, but I don't look in their direction. I'm way too damn concentrated to let my fingers slip from the sweat.
"If teardrops could be bottled
There'd be swimming pools filled by models
Told "a tight dress is what makes you a whore"
If "I love you" was a promise
Would you break it, if you're honest?
Tell the mirror what you know she's heard before
I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna be you, anymore"
Going into the last chorus, I'm now pushing with a lot of voice strength, playing around with the melodies. When the song ends, I open my eyes, inhaling large breaths, and not daring to look at anyone, as I'm silently praying I left a decent impression on them. They are professionals, after all, which means they can hear all of my mistakes better than anyone.
Silence is all I hear. It's fucking torture.
"Are you kidding me?! That was bloody amazing! I can't believe you wrote that!" I hear Sarah exclaim, as I feel my shoulders drop from relief. I didn't realize I was so tense before I heard the words of assurance.
"Amber," Harry calls me and my eyes find his forest green ones radiating something like admiration, "Please consider just joining for the documentary, at least," he pleads. What the fuck makes me so special?
Don't feel pressured. I hear Harry's words from earlier running through my head.
I sigh and finally admit, "I guess I could try," making his eyes immediately light up as if he wasn't expecting me to agree.
"Wait seriously?" he asks like he didn't hear me correctly the first time, and I swear his voice just got an octave higher.
"Yeah, I mean, I feel like it could be good for me, you know? I haven't performed in a while, but if I like it, then maybe I could tag along for a bit longer than just the documentary," I continue, kinda convincing myself in the process.
He happily buries his face in his hands, and I see relief wash through him. I mean, he probably was really worried he wouldn't find the right person in time.
"Thank you," he removes his hands from his face, revealing a genuine look, as his cheeks look a bit flushed.
"Have you performed before?" Adam asks, a curious look on his face as I make my way over to the couches where everyone else is sitting. Mitch has his arms crossed in front of him, but he doesn't have the look of distaste in his eyes he shared earlier. That's a good sign, right?
"I mean, I obviously haven't played in any documentaries, but when I was in music school, we had these exams every month, where we'd perform in front of judges and they'd rank us, giving us grades and stuff," I explain. Maybe that's where I got my constant fear of being judged.
"And the people with the highest grades could go and perform in contests, festivals, and concerts," I start rambling again. God, why am I talking so much? "But that was a long time ago, so I haven't performed in a while, actually."
We then continue to chit-chat about everyone's experiences, Mitch still staying quiet, as I wonder what his voice sounds like. We continue to make plans for the next rehearsals and details about filming the documentary, making me feel more anxious, but I don't let it show.
After a while, everyone goes home, leaving only me and Harry to get ready to leave as well, as I stuff the sheets with sticky notes all over them in my backpack.
"Thank you again," he says, as a smile overtakes him, and I chuckle.
"Harry, you don't have to thank me constantly. If anything, I should be thankful for the offer," I snicker, pulling out my jacket, seeing as it's dark and chilly outside.
"No, I really appreciate it. Usually, when people hear they have to learn the whole album in only 5 days, they start running for the hills," he explains, taking his jacket in his hands as we both make it through the front doors, a yellowish moon shining into the sky, no stars visible.
"I'll see you soon, yeah?" he asks, making his way into his car, already a few yards away from me.
"Yeah," I respond, not being sure if he heard me, but I just continue to move in the direction of my apartment, feeling much more relieved than I was on the walk here.
Maybe this could be good for me.
***
hey queens
this was kind of a filler chapter, but it's only the beginning and I don't want to rush things.
Amber might seem annoying for constantly overthinking things, but y'all have to understand, that this is a big decision for her, so it's all valid.
Also, Love on Tour is starting soon, and I can't wait for all the content! Did you get the tickets?
thank you for giving this story a chance! I love seeing every single one of you on here!
xx