Day Four - If It Means A Lot To You

It was three in the morning, and the hallway was pitch dark. Blinded though he was, Lance was able to make his way to the bathroom by keeping close to the wall; he was becoming acquainted with the path, having taken it every night since he got here. By now, his hands knew the architectural structure of the hallway well and could make a return trip to and from the bathroom in less than five minutes.

Something was different that particular night, though. When he reached the third door, he pressed his ears against it; he could hear the strumming of a guitar and a feminine voice, sweet but powerful.

“But I know you can’t come home ‘til they’re singin’ la, la la la, la la la…”
Curious, he slowly turned the doorknob. As soon as the door was open, the music stopped abruptly. Lance shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness of the light. Through his squinted eyes, he could see a girl sitting on the bed, holding a guitar. When Lance’s eyes were fully open, he could also see that the girl did not look happy at all.

That girl was Natalie.

“What are you doing? Why are you here? Don’t you know how to knock?” Natalie fired at him, furious.

“Sorry,” Lance said sheepishly. He was sorry too. You don’t barge into people’s rooms unannounced like that, and had it been the morning, he would never have done it. But in the middle of the night, people’s senses tend to get a little muddled. And he reckoned he had probably frightened her. “But please,” he continued, “Don’t stop on my behalf. You sounded amazing.”

Natalie turned even redder. “Y-you heard me singing?”

“Yeah, sure. It was why I came in.” Lance looked at her expectantly, waiting to for her to continue.

Natalie stared at him, her face skillfully blank. He stared right back. It was the first time they had been so close together since they got here. It was also the first time he had seen her without her makeup on. Having been a professional party animal, he was used to girls with a lot of makeup. Mostly he preferred them with makeup on all the time �" he once slept with a girl who looked absolutely amazing at night but �" he shuddered at the memory �" almost monstrous the next morning. Her eyes were 10 times smaller without her fake eyelashes and eyeliner, and hidden underneath that foundation were hundreds of red spots. He almost wanted to close his eyes while she told him how she wanted him to see the ‘real her’. He wished he never found out. But Natalie - even though the eyeliner she usually wore blended in wonderfully with her dark lashes, he thought she looked even more beautiful without it.

She picked up the guitar, but just as she was about to reach for her pick, she threw the instrument back onto her bed again. “What do you take me for, a street performer?” she snapped.

Lance shrugged �" as you wish, it seemed to say. What he did next, however, caught Natalie by surprise. Before Natalie could even react, Lance had taken the guitar on her bed and placed it on his knees.

“No one,” Lance said, picking up the pick, “should have to sing a duet alone.” Then he began strumming. Natalie’s eyes widened when she heard the familiar tune.

“Hey darling, I hope you're good tonight
And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving
Yeah, I want it but no, I don’t need it
Tell me something sweet to get me by
‘Cause I can’t come back home ‘til they’re singin’
La, la la la, la la la
‘Til everyone is singin’

Natalie never particularly liked Lance �" from day one, she pinned him as the stupid playboy type who went around f*****g girls and wasting his parents’ money. The last thing she expected was this. This boy was, without a doubt, musically talented. He was not only as good as her at playing the guitar �" no, if she were to be honest with herself, he was better �" but he also sounded really, really good. Much better than a lot of the vocalists in the s****y bands that played at the weekly gigs at the pubs she frequented.

“If you can wait ‘til I get home
Then I swear to you that we can make this last
If you can wait ‘til I get home
Then I swear come tomorrow, this will all be in our past
It might be for the best.”

Lance tore his eyes away from the guitar and lifted his head. There was a question in his eyes. Natalie couldn’t help but smile. She nodded. Lance went on strumming, and on cue, she opened her mouth to sing.

“Hey sweetie, I need you here tonight
And I know that you don't wanna be leaving
Yeah, you want it but I can't help it
I just feel complete when you're by my side
But I know you can't come home 'til they're singin'
La, la la la, la la la'
Til everyone is singin'
La, la la la, la la la”

Her voice was soft at first �" barely more than a whisper �" but as the song went on she found her courage, and before she knew it, she was singing the loudest she ever had in front of a stranger. His guitar chords and her voice went together seamlessly, and she realized she had never sounded so good before.

“You know you can't give me what I need
And even though you mean so much to me
I can’t wait through everything”
- she told him �"
“Is this really happening?
I swear I'll never be happy again
And don't you dare say we can just be friends
I'm not some boy that you can sway
We knew it'd happen eventually”

He pretended to look heartbroken, and she laughed.

They sang the last part together.

“La, la la la, la la la
Now everybody's singin'
La, la la la, la la la
Now everybody's singin'(If you can wait 'til I get home)
La, la la la, la la la
Now everybody's singin'(Then I swear we can make this last)
La, la la la, la la la
Now everybody's singin'
If you can wait 'til I get home
Then I swear we can make this last.”

By the time the song was finished, they were both exhilarated �" almost as if they had just finished running a marathon. Their cheeks were flushed and their hearts were pounding loudly against their ribcage. They flopped onto the bed behind them, grinning from ear to ear. Then, without meaning to, they turned to the side so that they were facing each other at the same time.

“You were amazing,” he said.

“So were you,” she told him honestly.

“How did you learn to play so well?”

“I took guitar �" and piano, actually �" lessons since I was five. I pretended that it was because my dad forced me to, but secretly I loved them. Don’t tell anyone though.” He winked.

”But seriously,” he continued, “With talent like yours �" why aren’t you a mega rock star signed to some hotshot recording company already? If people who sound like a frog and uses autotune in every single f*****g song can make it, so can you.” Lance reached to ruffle her hair, something he often did to girls he liked and fooled around with �" then he stopped mid-gesture. He realized he didn’t want to treat her like all those other girls, the ones whose names he had forgotten the next morning.

Natalie was silent.

“Unless, you don’t want to pursue a career in music?” he suggested. He knew some people preferred not to mix interest with career �" it was a difficult path, and it could easily turn something you enjoy to something you despise.

“No, I do �" more than anything. I want to sing my heart out, I want to rock the stage, I want hear the screams of thousands of fans cheering me on, I want to affect people with my music.” Even as she said this, there was a distant look in her eyes, almost as if she could see all that happening before her in an alternate universe.

“Well then, why not go for it?”

“I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t sing in front of people. I freeze and my throat automatically closes up. I’ve had chances in the past, record companies who were willing to see me based on my guitar skills alone �" but every single time, I croak. I’ve practiced so, so many times in front of the mirror, and I thought I could do it.

“You did pretty well just now…” Lance pointed out.

“That was a first. An exception.” Natalie buried her face in the covers. “I’m never going to make it.” she said, her voice muffled.

“Listen,” Lance told her. Natalie turned back around and looked at him.

“My dad owns half the clubs in town. Every week, different artists perform. Well, my dad calls them artists, but they’re really no more than a bunch of music fucktards looking for an extra buck. Once we get the hell out of here, I’ll arrange for you to perform every week. The audience is far from intimidating �" in fact, half the time they won’t even pay you any attention at all. Not very encouraging, I know, but it’ll be good practice for you, to help you get over your stage fright.” Lance’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “What do you say?”

“I’m not sure…” Natalie replied hesitantly.

“Come on. I’ll tell you what, I’ll play and sing next to you to give you moral support. If you choose not to sing in the end, at least you won’t look stupid on the stage. And in the meantime, while we’re still stuck here, we’ll practice. Deal?” Lance held out his knuckle.

“…deal.” Natalie smiled and punched his knuckle with hers lightly.
A weird feeling was coming over Lance, one he had never experienced before. He finally understood what those people in the books meant when they said that ‘their hearts were overcome by a warm sensation’. Corny expression, but it did his feelings justice. He felt better than he ever had. So that’s how it feels like to help someone instead of screwing them up, he thought.

“You should smile more.” He told her. “Your eyes light up and you look a hundred times prettier…normally you look so sour and all your features scrunch up together.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Natalie rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I don’t hand those out lightly. Anyway, since we’re probably going to be working together quite a lot in the future…I know you don’t mind me asking some more personal questions. Right?” Lance grinned. “I’ve been really curious for a while now, but I can never catch a proper glimpse of it - what does the tat on your wrist say?”

“Seize the Day. It was the first tattoo I got and…”