still falling ↠ hunter hayes

chapter six //

Chapter Six:

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

“

        I climbed into his car, a basic model, nothing fancy.

        "I expected a fast sports car from someone like you."

        He laughed, “I want one. I truly do. I love cars. I just, haven’t gotten around to it. I’m not home much anyway.”

        I nodded, watching the street turn to a blur as we drove on the highway. He lived further out of town in a large apartment building. It looked expensive and quiet. The kind of home I was hoping to have one day.

        I followed him into the elevator, watching him punch the number seven. Moments later, the doors glided open. He turned the keys to his door, swinging it open. I followed him inside, glancing around.

        It was beautiful. His windows overlooked the city. He had a huge sofa, a flat screen on his wall. I saw the sound system he had been referring to and it looked killer. Next to it were racks upon racks of CD’s. He had a huge collection. The large square room was just the beginning. It connected to the kitchen that had an island and all stainless steel appliances. It was spotless on top of that. I thumbed through his CD’s. He had everything from Stevie Wonder to Oasis to even his own records stacked below. He had modern country toward the bottom, his collection of rock and pop music surprised me though, I mean rock music was my favorite, he just didn't seem like the type of person to listen to it. I pulled out Ed Sheeran’s latest album, turning toward him. (The album is Multiply, lets just pretend it's out already).

        "How many stars would you give it? I haven’t had the time to listen to this yet."

        "Five out of five stars. Take it with you, I’ll get it back whenever. It’s a sick record"

        I smiled to myself, slipping the CD in my bag. The reassurance that yes, I would see him again. I turned to his stereo system, sliding the studio cut of “Flashlight” into a slot. I hit play and heard the slow riff fill the room. I walked to his sofa, falling onto it. I closed my eyes, letting our song fill my mind. For the next four minutes, I was somewhere else, wrapped up in the emotion we had created. The ending notes faded out slowly and I heard the CD cut off, silencing the tune.

        I smiled to myself, “It’s perfect. Your voice sounds great on it too.”

        He handed me a Mountain Dew.

        "Thank you, I appreciate it, a lot." He picking up an acoustic guitar from his couch, walking it back to the stand in the corner. I wondered how many he had just laying around. Probably a dozen or so. I picked up the papers beside me, glancing at his terrible handwriting.

        I could make out some words about a painting in Paris and green eyes. Something about a girl. Before I could read anymore, he was shuffling the papers up, folding them in half. He placed them behind him, “That’s nothing yet, just words.”

        I tilted my head, “Maybe we could finish it?”

        He shook his head, “Nah. I’m not wild about where it was going.”

        I could tell he was lying but I didn’t want to ask why. Okay, maybe I did, but I wasn't going to ask anymore questions. I leaned back against his couch as he sat beside me, “So tell me about the new album.”

        His eyes lit up, “It’s going so well! It’s about halfway done. “Flashlight” is on it. Your name is in the liner notes. As official as it can get.”