Taking Chances

I gnawed on my lip as Zayn half-pulled me toward the recording studio. “You know,” Louis observed matter-of-factly, “you guys seem to do that a lot.”

I gave him a questioning look as I stumbled forward again, forgetting the nerves that were bubbling up in my stomach for a second. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Zayn dragging you into buildings you don’t want to go into. Like when he dragged you into the apartment so that you could meet Charlie when you didn’t want to yet. And now he’s dragging you into the studio so that you can meet Simon Cowell.” Louis paused. “You might want to smile or something, though. You look like you’re going to wet yourself.”

I cleared my throat and tried to hide the blush that was spreading through my face. “I’m trying not to look petrified.”

“You’re failing,” Harry told me with a cheeky smile.

“Thanks, Hazza,” I replied mockingly. “I got that from the fact that Louis noticed.”

“Just trying to help you out.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I keep trying to think about the fact that he already thinks I’m good, but the thought keeps creeping into my mind that I might prove him wrong.”

Liam let out a soft groan next to me. “Bailey, I’m all for humble girls and everything, but your lack of confidence about your voice is actually starting to get ridiculous.”

My teeth latched onto my bottom lip as I stared at the ground, mumbling a thank you at Niall, who was holding the door open for all of us. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I can’t help it.”

“Maybe I said that too harshly,” Liam trailed off, noticing how uncomfortable I got.

“What Liam’s trying to say,” Zayn piped up, glaring at his friend, “is that your voice is incredible. Your range is spectacular, and you can do vocal runs like nobody’s business. There’s no reason that you should be nervous because you’re absolutely fantastic.”

His words made me smile, but I still had nervous butterflies in my stomach as we walked into the conference room, where Simon had told the band he’d meet me. The boys all settled down like they were at home, having private conversations amongst themselves in little groups.

On the other hand, I sat down hesitantly in the chair next to Zayn, my knee bouncing, fluctuating between fast and slow, depending on my nerve level.

Zayn noticed and reached over to grab my hand, giving it a little reassuring squeeze. I gave him a smile, but my eyes couldn’t stay away from the door for long.

When Simon finally arrived, (twenty minutes late, I noticed; definitely a demonstration of power) he sat down in the chair at the head of the table, his hands clasped in front of him. The boys snickered, which made me think that Simon was playing with my head a little bit, but it didn’t matter. I was still scared out of my mind.

“So, Bailey,” he started, his accent thick and very familiar. I couldn’t believe that I was in the same room as Simon Cowell. He was talking to me. For so long, I’d watched him on American Idol and, later, X-Factor USA. He was a legend in the music industry.

And yet, somehow, he wanted to sign me, a lowly American from Boston who was booted from her label for behavior problems. Well, what they viewed as behavior problems, anyway.

I felt a nudge in my side, and I ripped myself from my thoughts. Simon was staring at me expectantly. My face completely filled with heat as I asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

The rest of the boys snickered behind me, and it took everything I had not to give them death glares and threaten them with their lives.

“I said,” Simon repeated, his voice still relatively calm instead of irritated, as I’d expected he would have been, “have you a song prepared for today?”

My stomach dropped and my mouth got dry. “Um…I wasn’t told that I needed to have a song prepared,” I expressed honestly, shooting glares at the boys.

They were completely useless, just shrugging and failing to claim any responsibility at all.

“Welcome to show business,” Simon stated seriously as he sat back in his chair. “Go on. And please, make sure it’s not one of your own songs.”

I got to my feet unsteadily, going through all the songs that popped into my head and rejecting them.

Finally, I just burst out singing the first song that wouldn't completely suck, hoping that I didn’t forget any words or screw it up.

I heard that you’re settled down
That you found a girl and you’re married now
I heard that your dreams came true
Guess she gave you things I didn’t give to you

As I sang Someone Like You by Adele, I prayed that my voice wouldn’t crack on the high parts, since I hadn’t warmed up my voice in the least. But somehow, someway, the whole thing came out perfectly, even though I was a capella.

Simon, not one to gush or express any feelings, really, simply nodded with a small smile on his face. “That was actually very good. I have to say, I never figured you’d pick an Adele song.”

“Neither did I,” I muttered, trying not to laugh.

“But you sang it really well. I never realized what a beautiful tone you had, since your old record company liked to edit and alter your voice so much.”

I felt a light blush bloom at the mention of my old record company, but I was relieved when I realized that was all Simon was going to say about it.

“But I think the boys were right; you’d be perfect for this record company. Fly you manager out here, and we’ll settle the paperwork and contract. And then you can start recording.”

A grin exploded onto my face as I burst out, “Wait, what?! That’s it? I just had to sing a song, and you’re convinced?”

“It’s not like you’ve got a lack of material,” he reminded me. “And I know talent when I hear it.”

With that, he left the room. Right when the door closed behind him, I let out a high-pitched scream and threw my arms around Zayn, who was still seated.

“Um, ow,” Niall muttered jokingly, making a show of checking whether his eardrums still worked or not.

“Thank you so much!” I exclaimed, clapping as I turned back to the rest of the boys. “I can’t…I just don’t know what to say to express how much this means to me.”

“It was all Zayn,” Harry piped up, shaking his head. “We didn’t do much of anything at all.”

“Just nodded along in the background, really,” Liam agreed.

I faced my boyfriend again, who was smiling at me sheepishly. “This conversation isn’t over,” I told him with a smirk pulling up one side of my mouth.

The boys chorused ‘oooo’s behind me until Zayn gave them a threatening look. “We’ll talk about it later, then,” he finished, looking up at me with his innocent, dark eyes.