still falling ↠ hunter hayes

chapter four //

Chapter Four

Monday, March 10, 2014

“

       There were clothes scattered throughout my bedroom floor, and on top of that nothing looked right. I mean what in the world do you wear to write with Hunter Hayes? My stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and leaned against my dresser. What did I WANT to wear. I walked to my closet, not thinking of who I was writing with but what I felt like wearing. I pulled out a long sleeved floral playsuit, sliding the barely visible zipper through the soft fabric. I slipped on a pair of white strappy sandals, touching up my messy bun, and already made up face.

        Classy, professional and me. I took a deep breath, grabbing my heavy handbag and rushing to my car. I pulled into the almost empty parking lot. I didn’t see any huge fancy cars or security guards. I slid out of my car, taking a deep breath and slipping my handbag over my shoulder. I popped the trunk, pulling out my guitar. I slammed it shut, taking one last deep breath before walking inside.

        I was early, I always was. I walked down the hall to my familiar room, the room I always wrote in when I was here. I stopped, hearing a guitar playing a slick riff that I’d heard before. I walked into the small room and there he was. He didn’t seem to hear me as he continued playing the familiar song. There went my ten minutes of prep time.

        I sat my guitar down, seeming to catch his attention.

        "Oh, sorry. I was a little early. I am a lot," he said quickly. He sat his guitar down, folding his hands together as he stood up, "I’m Hunter."

        I shook his hand, offering him a warm smile, “Aspen. Oh you’re fine, I’m just not used to having someone else in this room,” I shut the door behind me, amazed at how casual he was.

        He seemed to sort through my words, I could see it on his face, “Am I sitting where you like to sit? You can sit where you want. It’s your space. Take your pick.”

        I laughed, “No, you’re fine. I’ll sit next to you. What were you playing a minute ago?”

        He talked so quickly, like he was constantly hyped up on caffeine. Was it his personality, nerves or the fact that he had a grande size Starbucks coffee beside him?

        "I was just messing around with one of my songs, testing out different ways to play parts live. Nothing fancy."

        "Don’t downgrade yourself, it sounded pretty awesome to me."

        He smiled, “Well, in that case, it was very difficult to play and I deserve the highest praise.”

        I laughed again, earning a smile from him.

        "You’re not how I thought you’d be," I sighed with a smile.

        He turned toward me, “Well, what’d you expect?” He seemed to be genuinely confused by my statement.

        "I don’t know. Um, gosh, this is gonna sound rude. My boss will kill me if I make you mad, um-"

        He leaned toward my ear, cupping his hands over his mouth, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

        Goodness, he was cute.

        "I don't know, I just thought you would be more obnoxious. Maybe a little snobby. That sounds bad, shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know that much about you but, you’re very popular and you’re the first person I’ve ever written with so this is very nerve wracking for me." I awkwardly laughed when I finished.